Jill; Belle Of The Ball

Jill; Belle Of The Ball

I had waited way too long to get my hair cut since the length was now approaching my shoulders. Janice, my sister, is threatening to take me to her beauty salon if I didn't, at least, get it styled. If any creatures built their nests in hair, she is sure I had a large colony using my hair for living quarters. Recently it has become an obsession with her, I am sure she has a reason for her sudden interest in my hair.

I was in my junior year of college and unlike my sister I had to study hard to get through my courses. She is majoring in business administration and maintained a 4.0-grade average. She never had to crack a book much less take notes in class. However, I am lucky to get passing grades and any extra time that I managed to acquire, had to go towards my subjects. I had not picked out a major yet since I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.

Sis is always pestering me to make up my mind about what I wanted to do in life, and my indecision just drives her nutty. I had lots of interests in life but could not decide on what I wanted to pursue. The basic problem is that I procrastinate too much.

This is how I ended up in my present predicament. All my time spent trying to pass my courses, but very little spent on personal grooming or even the basic social activities. Long untidy hair, having last been cut almost four years ago since I didn't really want to take the time to keep it cut and styled. A ponytail with a rubber band is good enough for me, although at least once a week I did manage to get a brush through it whether it needed it or not. I shampooed it when I took a shower, but never any conditioner, strictly wash and dry.

This fuss with the hair came about as the result of being invited to a fancy dress ball. A prominent sorority on campus has held this ball once a year for as long as the university has been around. It is quite an honor to be invited to this gathering, and my invitation is only as a result of being related to my sister Janice. She has belonged to this sorority since her freshman year and is now their president. It would be a faux pas to ignore me even if everyone hated the idea of me being there. I think Janice had ulterior motives in getting me invited for she was always trying to get me matched up with someone either male or female.

I wasn’t fond of the idea of going to her Sorority Ball, but in no uncertain terms, Janice told me that I would go, my failure to go would reflect badly on her. Somehow that logic seemed flawed, but I have a natural fear of her, so I decided I would concede to her wishes and go.

I really did not know where to get my hair cut since it been forever since I last accomplished this task. I was pretty much a loner, not having any friends, so I did not have anyone I could ask or network with to find an appropriate establishment to perform the deed. So, I ended up asking Janice. Well, being the 4.0 business major that she is, she assured me that she would take care of everything for me.

Two days later I am told that my appointment is on Monday at 7:00 AM sharp. I nearly had a heart attack on hearing this, since I never got up before ten on most days. Janice's reply a little curt and blunt. “Since I am paying for this, you will go when I can get you in. Because you are getting the works, it requires several hours to perform the selected tasks.”

Since I am always tight on money, I kept my objections to myself for fear of her withdrawing her offer. Saving some money was always a high priority for me. Our parents were footing the bill for both my sister and me to attend college, but Janice had gotten a full four-year scholarship. The fees were not totally outrageous but thirty-five thousand a year is not the cheapest tuition by far for both of us. The financial help did include an apartment for me and the sorority fees for Janice. We are limited to a small allowance for clothes and meals. There is always an adequate amount, but no discretionary funds are included. If we needed additional funds for something we were expected to find a job to supply the needed revenue. Since I was having trouble with my studies, the time spent on a job would hurt my grades quite a bit.

The appointment is on Monday since I had no classes and since the ball is on the upcoming Saturday that made it the most logical choice.

“Janice what exactly does the works entail?”

Her usual curt reply followed. “Just go with the flow, from your looks you definitely require all the help you can get, you might even enjoy it if you keep an open mind. Rebecca, her longtime friend, is managing the shop and would personally handle my appointment.”

I knew Becky quite well and became more relaxed on hearing that she is going to handle my appointment. Janice even arranged for some clothes for me to wear to the ball, I guess worrying that I might embarrass her if she failed to pick at least decent clothes for me to wear. She told me Becky would have them at the shop for me to try on and then she would bring them to my apartment on Saturday afternoon.

“I presume that means that you do not trust me.”

“Yep, this is exactly what I mean. Becky is going to ensure that you look your best and touch up your hair if needed.”

I knew Janice has always been somewhat controlling, and there was not much I could do but go along. I would talk to Becky on Monday and see if I could get her to forget about Saturday. I am not a little child that had to be dressed and made sure I was clean and neat. Well at least I am not the little child, the other might have some truth to it.

On Sunday evening, I got a call from Becky reminding me of my appointment. I told her I had it marked on my calendar. We talked a while about what has happened to each other in the few months since we had last talked. Apparently Becky's shop is doing quite well, and she is expanding the services offered there again. The owner is quite pleased with Becky's management and had given Becky part interest in the shop.

I told her about the courses that I am taking this year and kind of complained about how hard my studies are as compared to Janice breezing through hers. She has always been aware of how smart Janice is, telling me of how Janice is teaching her some management principles to help her run the shop better.

I tried to find out what Janice is planning to have me experience, but Becky remained close-mouthed about it. “Since Monday is a very slow day for the shop we will slip out to lunch and maybe do a little shopping before we head back.”

“That will be great, I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

I picked out some of my better clothes to wear, not wanting to embarrass myself or give Janice any more ammunition to use against me. I was up and dressed by six A.M., then arrived at the shop by six-thirty. Since Becky was not there yet, I went to a diner just down the street and picked up a couple of large coffees. Large coffees are a student’s mainstay.

When I returned to the shop, Becky is just opening up, and I followed her in. “Yay, you brought me coffee, you are such a sweetheart.” I sat at her station as she opened the shop, turned on the lights and made the salon ready to do business. She sat next to me, and we talked as our coffees are sipped.

“Now can you tell me what Janice has in mind since she is so secretive about it?” Becky paused in her conversation as she is apparently deciding what to tell me. She made her decision.

“Do you trust me and my judgment?”

Although Becky is a friend of Janice, I had known her for several years. She is a hard worker, but I had never known her to cause anybody any hurt or embarrassment. My simple reply. “You are a trusted friend, at least from my standpoint, and anything you decide is best for me I will live with.”

She decided that I needed to know the complete story, about today. “Keep quiet and allow me to fill in all of the blanks. Then after you have heard the entire story, I want you to go along with everything I am going to do to you with no hesitation or comment. That includes going out to lunch with me.”

I agreed nodding my head. “That will not be a problem.” She warned me that since I had agreed, there is no backing out of this when things are revealed.

As an afterthought, she decided offering me a choice might be a better way to handle the upcoming day’s activities. The choice being, to find out everything in advance or suffer the consequences and then be informed of the how and why. Surprisingly, I chose the do now and tell later, a totally new approach for me. In the back of my mind, I am freaking out since this seemed to be much more than just getting my hair cut, sorry make that styled.

Becky finished her coffee and led me back to the shampoo basins. She had me remove my shirt as she placed a cape over my upper torso to keep me dry. She didn’t want my shirt to get damaged by any of the salon’s chemicals. I paused in thought. There is much more to this than I originally envisioned but Becky asked me to trust her, so I placed myself in her hands. My hair is thoroughly washed and conditioned, in fact, she did it twice. Then she applied another liquid on my head, massaging it thoroughly into my hair. She placed a plastic bag over my head and secured it. She sat the chair back up so that I was not leaning backward, then pulled up a stool and started filing my nails.

At that point, I began to smell a rat, knowing Janice is up to her old tricks. Several times in the past Janice had tried to convince me that I should dress as a girl. Mainly these occasions corresponded with Halloween and Mardi Gras. Janice truly believed that any career possibilities for me revolved around the female gender that is me being a member of that gender.

I am horrible at sports, very shy and reclusive, but the thing that tipped the scales is my figure. I naturally had a feminine figure including a narrow waist and hips way to big and curvy for any member of the male gender. The only thing lacking is my fairly flat chest. The tittie fairy is apparently not a supporter of Jill the college coed.

Jill was the name that Janice always called me, oblivious to my given name of Jack. Yes, I am aware of the reference to Jack and Jill, hearing it all my life. I don’t think that Janice ever used the name Jack in our 22 years of brother-sister relations. It began to make sense; Becky’s reluctance to tell me what is going on and Janice’s commitment to handle everything for me.

Becky removed the plastic bag and washed the dye out of my hair. What is left was a very austere Champagne Blonde color. It was conditioned again; then she proceeded to cut it into a style. Thankfully very little hair made it to the floor, since I guess she was just shaping it into a style, most likely a feminine one. When she turned the chair around facing the mirror and I was allowed to see the style and color I gave her a raised eyebrow look.

It is feminine, the cut changing the dynamics of my face from androgynous to female without a doubt. I wanted to be upset with Becky but doubted that me getting angry about it would change the outcome. Apparently I was to go to the ball as a female, Janice’s desire would be fulfilled and most likely my reputation ruined in the same breath. To Janice there is the added advantage of her uncouth brother not showing his face at the ball. A win-win for her.

Becky could tell that I realized my eventual outcome, that big sigh that I expressed a dead giveaway. She moved the cart with her curlers on it next to my chair and started setting my hair in curlers. She made small talk about my new appearance, suggesting that it would not be as bad as I thought. In fact, she defied anyone to make the connection between Jack and Jill in the days ahead. After she had finished putting my hair in curlers, she placed a net over the curlers. A brief glimpse in a mirror confirmed my obvious female presentation.

My eyebrows are next, waxed to thinly penciled arches, and then false eyelashes are added. Each individual lash was glued to my existing eyelashes until the count ended in the hundreds. After the addition of a few, I could see the edge of the new lashes as they framed my eyes. I again gave Becky the stare.

“Let’s face it the luscious lashes look good on you,” is Becky’s statement. In the mirror the old Jack had already departed, in fact, I imagined he wouldn’t be showing up again in the near future.

In the next two hours, I received a facial including a cleansing mask, complete with cucumber slices over the eyes. After every treatment, a little more of my masculinity was pulled from me until a female image is all that remained. Next, I am led to a room with a padded table where she helped me get comfortable.

I knew that crunch time is here, now would come the part that I would dread in the future, but I had quietly let Becky do as she wished so far. Besides, Janice is going to get her way one way or another, so fighting her only makes it worse for me in the future.

She used a depilatory cream on my body removing what little hair I had, leaving me baby smooth all over. Unfortunately, my groin received the same treatment; nothing left down there but my shriveled male appendage. It is shriveled because it was totally embarrassed to be left alone without any camouflage. It did twitch every once in a while, I guess trying to make some kind of statement or was that a whimper.

Becky did use a moisture cream on my body, but even that didn’t cause Percy to perk up. The cream did feel good as it is absorbed into my skin. Then she pulled out some boxes from a cabinet with my name written on them. I should say that Jill’s name is written on them. Obviously, quite a bit of planning had gone into this endeavor, probably by Janice.

The first thing she pulled out of the box was a replica of a female’s lower anatomy. My mind although assaulted by all of this quickly figured where this is going, and I fainted. I must have been out for quite awhile, because when I awoke, Becky is finishing attaching the vulva to my anatomy. I had raised my head to see what she is doing, and all I could see is two gorgeous lips with a slit perched in between. Percy is no longer visible, maybe for the long term.

The lips that I had dreamed of entering with the right girlfriend one day, but that looks to be impossible now since those lips are now on my body. Of course, the required landing strip of pubic hair is there to lead the wandering appendages to the Promised Land.

Oh Gawd, did I just think that a male could see me as desirable and want to see to my undoing. All of a sudden I realized that Janice had apparently other motives here since attending a dance would not require breasts and a vagina. In fact, I wondered how long these appendages were on for, the preparation quite detailed for a day or two in service. Becky brought my thoughts back to the here and now as she placed two fairly heavy blobs on my chest. I kept my promise and did not hassle Becky. “Will lunch also include an explanation of these treatments and the new look?”

She gave me one of her patented smiles “I am surprised that you have kept your cool this long.” After measuring and marking my chest as to the placement, she glued them to the proper spots. She placed one of my hands on each to steady them as the glue set. I quite often have dreamed of having my hands on a nice set of tits, but holding my own was not what I envisioned.

I laid there for twenty minutes as she wanted to be sure the glue had firmly secured them to my chest. I am helped up, and a corset placed around my body. The front busk is done up; then she started tightening the laces, gradually reducing my waist until the female silhouette is more apparent. There was a mirror across the room, the reflection of myself in the mirror quite unnerving. My naturally smaller waist now accented to the extreme. An almost hourglass figure reminiscent of females in the last century now in its place.

I had walked into the salon this morning a young male, maybe even a little handsome, but that person had vanished somehow, and a gorgeous female was now there in its place.

Becky quickly gave me some clothes to put on, afraid that if she let me look too long at the naked female image, it would cause me more distress. I am sure a prolonged look would do exactly that. At least, I received a pair of pants and a blouse for my first outing, plus the required feminine undergarments. Back to her station and she removed my curlers and brushed it out. Curls prevailed and the hairstyle framed my face perfectly making my face, even more, feminine.

Becky adding a little mascara and some lipstick and Jill is a reality. Before I could think much, she pulled me out the door, and we headed down the street to her favorite restaurant. I was out the door, teetering in my heels before I could figure out what is going on. As she locked the salon door, I realized I had no other alternative. I was pushed into the restaurant since I had hesitated at the entrance. The hostess seated us at a booth facing the front window, and I was scared to death.

The reality finally caught up with me I was out in public dressed as a female and in full sight of all my peers. My only comment is whispered to her. “Becky what have you done to me, and why?” That statement is followed by a burst of tears as the floodgates released. She quickly hustled me off to the ladies restroom, to help soothe and calm my fears.

When we returned I was a little better, but still lost as to what is going on. Almost all of my class mates ate at this restaurant, as my eyes darted around the establishment to see who is here. Sure enough several of them are here, looking our way. Becky leaned over to whisper to me that I should calm down; nobody is going to recognize you dressed this way, take a deep breath and eat your lunch.

Then to add insult to injury in walks Janice and heads directly to our table. Becky rubs my leg with her foot, mouthing to me to keep quiet. Janice looked around wanting to know where Jill is, Becky smiled but told her that she had gotten sick this morning, too much was happening that she couldn’t handle and had vomited several times. So Becky had taken her home so she could lay down for a while. That seemed to mollify Janice, and she turned her attention to me. Becky introduced me as a friend, visiting for a couple of days to check out the local college.

Janice is quickly back on track wanting to know if Becky had made the changes to Jill as she had requested. Becky told her that some of them are completed, but the rest would be handled as soon as Jill is feeling better. Janice wanted to be sure that Jill is going to show up for the dance and not that horrid Jack.

It took a concerted effort to keep my mouth shut, but I managed although I am sure that steam is coming from my ears as Janice kept up the chatter about Jill. Finally, Janice had to leave for an appointment, leaving Becky and me alone again.

Becky looked at me, then giggled. Your own sister did not recognize you, and you were only a foot or two from her. She then proceeded to tell me what Janice had in mind for me, supplementing it with how Becky had in mind to derail Janice for good.

It was Janice’s idea that if I am made to attend the ball as a female, it will cause her less anguish than if I attended as Jack. If an opportunity came along for my future so much the better. It was obvious that she was ashamed of me as the Jack persona, but due to her being president of the sorority she is obligated to invite me. She is hoping that all of the feminine treatments and appendages would keep me cowered and pretty much a wallflower at the ball.

Becky disagreed; that is no way to treat family whether she liked me or not. Becky confessed that over the years Janice has changed, not the friend she once had; she thinks the sorority has had a lot to with her change in attitude. The sorority sisters are stuck up bitches, and Janice has managed to become the head bitch. She paused in her telling of the story as our food is brought out. We sipped our iced tea, and ate our burgers in peace, and then after the plates are removed, she resumed her tale. Becky thought the best way to bring Janice down a notch was to make Jill a walking bombshell.

Jill will be so attractive that all eyes will be on her at the ball, with the attention of every young male on her, the sorority sisters will be furious. Nobody will now you true identity until the end of the ball, at the unmasking you will reveal your true identity. Once the other sisters find out that your transformation into a female is at Janice’s request, the shit will hit the fan. Becky looked at me, then asked if I was up for this. I told her I would try, but I am a dorky male, I don’t see how she is going to make me attractive and desirable by the end of the week.

I was told that I had already had the attention of every guy in the restaurant, a few more tweaks, and some dynamite clothes and you will wow them. From the restaurant, we went to the mall, Becky confiding to me that we had to find a dynamite evening gown for the ball. I mentioned that she had said that Janice had bought me one, but she told me it was so awful, a dress to ensure that I stayed cowered in a corner, not be the belle of the ball.

We hit every dress shop in the mall and finally ended up in the most expensive shop in town. I was pulling back on Becky as we entered the shop, as I knew that neither she nor I could afford anything from this shop. Becky led the way up to the counter, asking if she can talk to Julie. The SA walked in the back, then returned with another younger woman. Julie gave her a hug; I presume she was a customer of Becky’s, and they were lost in conversation for several minutes. Becky got around to asking if Julie had a better than average evening gown for the upcoming ball.

Julie asked who it was for, with Becky pointing to me. Julie asked my size, I had no idea, but Becky told her that I was a size twelve. We were led back to the back room and into a smaller enclosed area that was sectioned off from the larger room. Julie pulled out several dresses, and Becky checked them out. Becky placed her hands on her hips telling Julie that she needed something with more pizazz. Julie told her that was the selection that she had left since the girls had all been in picking their gowns early for the ball.

Becky told her it was for Jill, Janice’s brother that she wanted the dress for. Julie mentioned that she had already sold Janice a horrendous dress for Janice’s brother. Becky told her that I am Jill, and Janice needed a lesson or two in treating others properly. Julie smiled then led Becky into another room that she kept locked. When we entered, and the lights were turned on, my breath was taken away. The dresses in this room were delicious, any female wearing one of these would certainly be gorgeous enough to eat.

Becky scanned the racks till she found what she was looking for, a perfect dress for the ball. The dress is a pale pink, with yards and yards of lace and satin in the skirt, the bodice is designed to fit closely and to accent any advantages that a young female might have in the breast area. Becky said that she would take it, and asked how much. Julie smiled and asked Becky if she could have a picture of Jill and Janice at the unveiling. Becky told her she is planning to take video, and she would make sure that Julie received a copy.

Julie told her the dress would be two hundred dollars then; I thought that was outrageous, but Becky took the money out of her purse and paid her. Julie suggested that I try it on, and she could have it altered to fit snugly for free. Becky turned to me and told me to strip. I hemmed and hawed, but with Becky assisting I am soon in panties, corset and bra. They unbuttoned the dress, then had me step into it. It is slid up my body and was placed around my chest.

It was strapless and even with the corset on I had to take a deep breath for them to get the buttons done up again. Julie retrieved a pair of pumps with a four-inch heel to slip on my feet so they could check the hem. The dress fit perfectly to my upper body, but Becky wanted it taken in another inch, telling Julie that I would have a strapless corset on in a smaller size so the inch more would be no problem. I looked at Becky with fear in my eyes, an inch tighter; I am already having trouble breathing.

She marked the spots that needed to be taken in and told Becky that she would drop it off at the salon on Wednesday when she came in for her appointment. We exchanged hugs and kisses, and we left to go back to the salon. I am furious with Becky for spending that kind of money on a dress. I knew that I couldn’t afford the dress, and unless Becky had recently won a lottery, I doubted if she could either. Becky listened to me rant, but soon we were back at the salon, and as we entered Becky steered me to her office.

In the last week, a chain of salons had purchased this salon, the owner of that chain had interviewed Becky, liked what she saw and made her a franchise owner of this salon. Becky ended up trading her small investment in the salon into a much bigger one, this time as a franchise owner. Francine liked her and waived the fees associated with the franchise until the salon is making a profit. They talked about Francine’s chain and what they did differently than the normal beauty salon.

They catered to the male customer, ones that might like to see themselves in female attire, but were too scared to do anything about it. The treatments they had developed allowed the male to make the transformation easily and at a fair price. They didn’t gouge customers, quite often the rates they charged were the most reasonable in town. Once the females found out what the salon was capable of, they also flocked to it, if they could make a male look like a female imagine what they could do with a genetic female.

Her contractors are due here in the morning, changing the décor of the salon, replacing it with a much more feminine atmosphere. At this point, she stopped and changed the topic to what I wanted out of life. I gave her a puzzled look, why are we talking about me now. She giggled, I have a proposal that I think would be perfect for you, but it is totally left field, so out of your comfort zone that I fear that you might faint again. I leaned forward, wanting to know what she had in mind. My curiosity is now piqued.

The one thing she needed most is employees she could trust; she felt that I fit that requirement plus I made an attractive female. I want you to start next Monday as my receptionist/nail technician. My eyebrows went up, but I refrained from opening my mouth. You will be in full female dress, including hair and nails, an advertisement of what the salon can do for a male. I am not trying to embarrass you, or humiliate you since no one will actually know who you were before. I want you to live the female persona 24/7 and if you relax a little, enjoy what it is like to be pampered and courted as a female.

This is a side of you that is right below the surface, it has always been there, and you just denied it any chance to see the light of day. Your behavior as a male has been at the best pathetic; you are a loner, yet you have meaningful relationships with a few females when you let your guard down. I know for a fact that your IQ is the same as Janice’s, but yet you struggle doing even the simplest things. I think I know some of the problem, but I need you to trust me and try this for a while.

She noticed that I had not fainted, but wanted me to think about what she said. I surprised both her and myself by telling her that I would try it, maybe for a few weeks since spring break is coming up, and I would have the free time. I am hugged with a vengeance; apparently Becky can really squeeze the most out of a hug. We returned to her station, talking as Becky further feminized me, each treatment removing a little more of what few masculine traits that remained.

My ears were then pierced, three piercings in each ear, two studs and a hoop in the bottom hole. Then another facial is applied, several creams designed to shrink my pores and a treatment to stop any further beard growth. I never did like to shave, often appearing on campus with stubble, not because it looked macho, but because I was too lazy to remove it.

My hair revisited, now that I am onboard she wanted me to have much longer hair. She added in over three hundred strands of hair, longer than my male hair coming to my shoulder blades. They matched my dyed hair, making me look more feminine while adding volume to my existing locks. She wet all of my hair again and reset it on curlers, this time using a lot more. Under the dryer again, this time for forty minutes, then as she removed the curlers my hair bounced in gigantic curls. I looked like a female before, but now I resembled some guy’s wet dream. The look is without a doubt sex to the nth degree.

She helped me learn to apply makeup, giving me instruction, then making me do it on my face. Several times I had to make myself up, often doing something, not to her liking and I had to do it over again. It is surprising how good you can get at something to keep from having to do it over and over.

Then she had me remove my polish and redo my nails several times to get the hang of it. After the third application, she pronounced me good enough to start doing nails with her supervision. We talked about what she wanted me to do at the ball, how to handle Janice when she caught on to the masquerade.

We decided to evade Janice at first, mingling with her sorority sisters, to establish a friendliness to my new persona. Then when the unveiling came about, Janice couldn’t point to me and claim that I am obviously a male in a dress embarrassing her.

We talked about the salon, in fact, Becky invited me to work with her for the next few days, as the contractors made the changes in the décor. There is new stations to be set up, chemicals to stock up, and, of course, taking requests for appointments. The salon would be closed for several days, but they are running ads to catch the attention of the new group of customers that the salon is trying to attract.

She had me practice my voice a little; eventually, I am able to get it in the right range with the proper inflection. Becky had me record my voice and play it back, and even I am impressed with the sound of it.

Since she didn’t want Janice to find out about the changes she asked me to move in with her for the next few days, I only had one class each day for the next two days, and then I am through until spring break is over. I am a little skeptical, but she convinced me that I had nothing to worry about. At the moment, she still likes guys, and my appearance is far from what a guy looks like. I did ponder the at the moment part.

We went to my dorm room, removed my textbooks and a few personal items, and then went to Becky’s apartment. She showed me to the second bedroom, pulled out a nightie for me to wear tonight, told me to change then help her make something to eat. As I undressed in her large bathroom, I kept staring at the image in the mirror. Jill is definitely the image I see when I look in the mirror. I turn right and left trying to get the whole image in my mind. I can’t see any Jack in any of the poses, in fact, I really don’t feel like a Jack anymore.

I like the look, the hair moving back and forth over my shoulders feels so good. Becky had used a little fragrance on me before we left for lunch, although it faded a little the smell is still all girl. As I checked my face in the mirror again, I reached into my purse to get my lipstick out. I touched up my lips, feeling better about my image now with fresh lipstick. Becky is standing outside the bathroom door asking me if I am ready now to help her cook some dinner. We both started giggling, as we made our way to the kitchen.

A couple of sandwiches with some bean soup is the fare for tonight. The sandwiches would make Dagwood jealous, though. Three kinds of cheese, two types of meat, lettuce, olives, tomato, onion, several different mayos, and mustards, and all served on a toasted sesame seed bun. As we were finishing the sandwiches, Becky reminded me that as a young female I would need to take up jogging or join a gym to keep my female figure at its best. I could see her point, but was not thrilled at the thought of exercising in any shape or form.

I helped her clean up; then we adjourned to her living room. She took a minute to change into a nightie, then joined me on the couch. We talked about my studies, why I struggle to do the work required and Janice just breezes through. Becky asked me if I look forward to the classes or do I dread the time in the classroom.

Unequivocally I hate the experience, every minute in the classroom like a day in a jail cell. Becky says that is my problem. I have told you a little about the salon and where you might fit in. Are you looking forward to the experience? Yes, I am excited to learn something new, something fun. She smiles, I have finally connected the dots to the puzzle.

“I want you to take one of your classes this week, attend it as a female, and think what you might learn in that class that would make what you’re learning with me more fun and enjoyable. Then with that in mind, I bet you the class will become bearable, and you will learn the material without having to memorize.”

I did attend one of my last classes as a female, surprised at what little reaction I received doing it. My concentration was better, fifteen minutes after I entered the class I was listening intently to what was being taught, even made some pertinent notes on the lecture. As I left the classroom, I was amazed, most of what was taught today still fresh on my mind, something that never happened in the past. Two days later I repeated the experiment for my last class of the semester. The same results as before, the material fresh and clear in my mind. One of my male classmates even asked me for a date, that kind of shocked me, but managed to utter that I had a boyfriend already, sorry. I presume he has vision problems, since I was not really dressed as a female, but yet he interacted with me as if I was one.

It was now the day of the ball, Becky had me up early, and at the salon getting ready for tonight. I had helped her all week, we had got the salon ready to open on Monday, fully stocked and clean as a whistle. Several late nights were put in, but they were fun as Becky and I hustled to get the salon ready.

Becky wanted me to do all the preparations for today myself, she would offer advice and help if needed, but Jill was the star here, and had the ability, just needed to assert herself. I started off with a bath, soaking in all of the bath salts that I had added to the warm oily water. Then after making sure there were no outbreaks of fuzzy hair on my body I blotted my skin with a towel.

A cute lacy pantie was next and then the new corset Becky had obtained for me. I got it positioned properly then tightened it as much as I could. I called for Becky and she entered the room with a huge smile on her face. Time to have some fun with Jill seemed to be her only thought. I was prodded, pushed, and any other thing she could do to assure the corset was tightened fully, both edges of the corset now touching down the middle of my back. At times I was sure I would faint, due to a lack of air. A quick pinch to my nipples usually brought me back to the living, and also provided Becky some entertainment. Finally I was helped into the dress and it was zipped up molding itself to my body. I doubt you could get a finger anywhere under the edge of the dress. As I tried to take a few steps it became apparent that either standing or maybe a slow dance was all the dress would allow in movements. Even sitting would be difficult, between the corset and the tight dress.

Now how to get to the dance, that was solved somewhat as a limo pulled up to the salon. Becky had me kind of fall back into the seat, I was now almost lying down on the seat. Becky accompanied me, making sure my hair style did not get ruined. After I was dragged from the limo, I made my way into the ball, this year it was being held in the college auditorium. The place was all decorated up, looking nothing like it usually did. I made my way around, talking with all the females and even a few males.

Nobody recognized me, even Janice joined one of the groups of females I was talking to asking if anyone had seen Jack here tonight. I smiled but continued my rounds being as friendly as possible to everyone I met.

Finally Janice cornered Becky asking where Jack was, making quite a scene as she did so. Becky winked at me and I walked over to join the group of females that were next to her. She got very hostile toward Becky, wanting to know why Jack was not here, after she spent all that money on his makeover. A couple of the girls wanted to know about the makeover, why Jack had been given one. Well Janice tried to back pedal, but it was too late. I finally walked up to Janice and in my male voice, I told her I am right here. She eyed me up and down and then tried to scratch my eyes out, several of the girls caught her arms before any contact and she was dragged away by the security for the ball.

Most of her female sorority sisters wanted to know what was going on, so Becky and I spilled the beans. From the look on everyone’s face Janice’s stature took a severe beating. Becky had everything recorded on her phone, uploading it to the internet for all to see. The Facebook page with all of this on it went berserk, the count quickly into the thousands. I was treated special the rest of the ball, got to dance with almost everyone, and really enjoyed myself.

After the weekend things calmed down some, the salon’s Grand Opening on Monday keeping everybody busy. I did continue working for Becky, now three years later a partner with her in this salon and another new one we are opening across town. I never heard from Janice again, the scuttlebutt was she had hooked a wealthy male and was being the perfect society wife for him. Whatever she managed I wished her luck, I am sure somewhere along the line it will all catch up with her.

I did stay as Jill, a more satisfactory life for me, one that I enjoy. Becky and I moved in together permanently, quite content to enjoy each other for eternity. I do think back often on being the belle of the ball, a gift for me that I will treasure forever.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Lynnette; Following Her Lead

 

Lynnette; Following Her Lead

I earn my living as a dance instructor, not my first choice, but the choice that pays the bills. I would much rather make my living writing, but so far no publisher has shown any interest in anything I put a pen to.

The dance instructor job came as a result of a college friend that got into a bind. Lynn had started the dance school to help pay her way through college. It did that and a little bit more, and after graduation she decided to see if it could provide a living for her full time.

It started off with a bang, Lynn winning a local dance contest, giving her school a leg up with regards to the competition. She hired additional instructors, and soon had customers. Lynn was always a good dancer, her mom giving her the education in all forms of dance when she was younger. Her Mother was a co-owner in a national chain of dance studios. Unfortunately, her mother never lived long enough to see her daughter excel at what she learned.

My involvement came about when a couple of her instructors, were hired away by the competition. One competitor, in particular, had in for Lynn, wanting to bankrupt her school before she took all the business away from them. Lynn had a much more pleasant personality and is good with people, making her popular with her students. Just to be in her company is uplifting.

We had met in college, at a mixer. Both of us freshmen, both of us new to the school and knowing no one, we somehow found each other. We danced that night till they closed the place, just happy to be with each other.

I started out life with the name of Jess, although the few friends I had over the years quickly morphed that into Jessie. Lynn was no different, the second time we met that became my new name, and she never did call me Jess the entire time we spent in college. I was short for a male, about an inch or two shorter than Lynn, but probably weighed twenty pounds lighter than she did, since a female never discusses her weight we will never know for sure if that is true.

Nothing more serious ever happened between us, although we attended several dances together each year. My dancing ability coming to me, courtesy of my mother, although she wasn’t near as qualified as Lynn’s mother. I could do the basic dances, nothing fancy, but my downfall is that I enjoy dancing. It is fun and exciting, and getting caught up in the music and twirling around the floor is what life is all about for me.

By now you have probably figured out that we are not talking about any of the modern dances. This is ballroom dancing in all its glory. You actually hold your partner, interacted with them, and the two of you make a couple that performed the dance. In my opinion, standing opposite a partner, gyrating in a non-musical maneuver, can’t ever be called dancing.

Anyway, she needed an instructor to help fill the gap till she could hire some more instructors, with my name at the top of the list. We had lost contact with each other after graduation, but I still lived in town, so she eventually tracked me down. I was working temporarily at a retail store, seasonal help, for three weeks. When she called, she asked if I could help her out. I told her that I am not a qualified instructor, as she knows, but I would help her any way that I could.

We met the next day at her studio, and she ran down what my duties would be. I would be teaching females the basic steps, maybe dancing a few dances with the better ones when they learned the basics. It was all one on one training, not group classes. My skills would be adequate for this, and she hoped to be able to hire a couple more instructors in a week or two. She had me dance a couple of dances with her, this time with me following. Up to this time I had always led, a normal male dance position. Lynn wanted me to have a little experience following so that I could show my students the basic female steps.

She put some music on, and we started dancing, the steps came to me naturally, and we danced around the studio for several hours. We did Fox Trots, Tangos, some Quicksteps, but mostly Waltzes. She remarked several times about my ability, fascinated that I could dance so well in the female role. My first student was the next day after work; I had only two more days of my seasonal work, and then I would be once again without a paying job.

After my first student, Lynn asked if I would consider being a full-time employee for her since I did so well with that student. “I will think about it, my dream of working as a writer still holding that prized first spot.”

At the weekend, reality had descended on me again, and I told her I would accept. Nothing had changed, but that was the problem, three more publishers had returned the manuscripts with rejection letters, one I don’t think even looked at the offering.

At the studio, I am scheduled for four to five students a day, each session usually two hours, with the more advanced limited to one hour sessions. Eight to ten hours a day, with me being paid by the type of instruction I gave. I was bringing in one hundred to one hundred fifty dollars a day with ease, most of the students were pleasant and easy to get along with. Lynn was ecstatic with my help; she never did hire any other instructors.

Her primary competitor soon went belly up, giving us, even more, business. She ended up doing a group basic dance step class, then me doing the individual classes from there on. Things progressed from there as she slowly added a few more students to the school. She did, however, see that we had saturated the market, teaching most of the people that wanted to learn to dance in the area. She feared a downturn in the business level and four months later, it appeared. She was planning for this in the back of her mind, having a thought or two as to what she could do to keep herself financially secure. I was not aware of her plans, or that I would be included in those plans.

She gradually laid off two of her other instructors, as the business dwindled she would let them go when there was not enough to keep them busy. She kept the two female instructors she first started with, however, wanting them to keep the school going as she moved on to other pursuits. More and more she spent time with me dancing in the studio, sometimes late into the evening, always with her leading. I had a feeling that something had changed, but I loved to dance so I kept the comments to myself. Then when I had danced my last scheduled class with any students, she told me her plans.

The plans were disclosed over dinner at her house, which was attached to the dance studio. When I saw the bottle of wine, I knew that I would be wined and dined to get my approval for whatever she had planned. The standing rib roast, a good indication of the degree that she sought my approval. The meal is delicious; she admitted that she hadn’t cooked it, dancing is her forte, not cooking. We sipped wine looking at the stars as we sat on her patio. It is a beautiful night, stars seeming to populate every square inch of the nighttime sky. Finally, I asked her what she wanted to talk about; I could see the difficulty she is having in getting the conversation started, and I tried to make her at ease.

“I trust you Lynn, that whatever you have in mind, I will listen to, and most likely agree to your request.” The biggest smile came onto her face, and I knew that I had stepped into it big time. She dragged me back inside and hit the remote on the TV, and a video started playing of a couple dancing a Strauss waltz. The dress the female is wearing is gorgeous, one of the prettiest I had ever seen, but the couple’s ability is not quite up to the level of a serious dance enthusiast. I noticed the dress because it was cut very provocatively, not the usual dance contest dress.

Lynn asked me if I noticed anything different about the couple. Other than the dress I didn’t see anything unusual or different. She played it one more time, and then I noticed the effeminate appearance of the male partner. “The video was at a dance contest nearby, at a club where this type of dance contest is gaining popularity. Now the bigger dance organizations are taking notice and are going to start a national tour featuring this type of contest. They already have fifteen stops scheduled, with minimal prizes of one thousand dollars for the winning couple in each of three different dance competitions. The Waltz, the Tango, and the Foxtrot are the three primary dances they are going to feature.”

“The competitions are called the Turnabout, with the roles of the dancers reversed. The male dances the female role in costume, and the female dances the male role in a tux. To jazz it up the dresses the male in the female role, wears are more provocative, downright sexy. The competitions are gaining in popularity, playing to packed clubs in few towns already. Since a certain individual is so good at dancing the female part, I wondered if this contest might have an interest for you. I still have all my mother’s competition dresses, neatly packed away in storage. Most of them can be altered to enhance the sex appeal, and since they are all considered retro, they would be a natural for this type of contest.”

“Incidentally, you and she are almost the same size so they should all fit you with a minimum of alteration. The dresses are very feminine, perfect for this type of contest.” I had listened to all she had said but didn’t know about participating in this crazy idea. I never had dressed in my mother’s clothes, although one Halloween I did go as a fairy princess. The second fact is I had never had a serious relationship with a female, in fact, Lynn would probably qualify as a one and only date. It is not like I don’t want a relationship, it just doesn’t come easy for me. Lynn wanted me to think about it; she knew that it was pushing the limits that I would feel comfortable with, but the money is too good for the idea to be discarded without an attempt to see if it is doable.

I asked her some questions, about how I am to appear, what would be required to handle the impersonation. The answers are not what I was expecting, the degree that I would have to live as a female much more than I would have liked. The discussion ended that night when she told me there is a contest in the next town, about fifty miles away. She suggested that we enter and that I get transformed into a female for the dance. We try it out, both the impersonation and the dance to see if it is something we can handle. Then decide if it is to become a way of life for a while.

Nervously I agreed to the trial, getting a bonus hug and kiss from Lynn. She had made an appointment at a salon in town that did these type of transformations regularly, for tomorrow. After I was the correct gender looks wise, we would select a dress that is appropriate, maybe two, and then she would have them altered to fit the contest better. The contest is in three days, so not too much time for me to over think things. The one thing that I had to start on immediately is learning to maneuver in heels.

She went to her closet, returning with a five-inch heel with ankle straps. She smoothed a knee high up my foot after she had removed my socks. She eyed the heels, and then my pant legs, I guess figuring that I would not be able to get the pants off with the heels in place. She had me stand up, unbuttoned my pants and slid them down my legs. Before I realized what she was doing, I was naked from the waist down except for my boy shorts.

The heels are slipped on, the fit is perfect, and I suspected some advanced planning since it is obvious that Lynn and I are not the same shoe size. She fastened the ankle straps, and I heard two distinct clicks. I looked down, and the shoes are locked onto my feet. I looked up at her, giving her an evil eye, but she denied any wrongdoing, the fact is that you need to get used to the heels. That means that you stay in them until the contest. Don’t think of trying to cut them off; those shoes cost over five hundred dollars, and I will hurt you severely if you damage them in any way.

I asked the obvious, “Do I wear them to bed?”

“Yes, you stay in those heels until the dance contest.” I looked down at my lack of pants, pointed to that area. She came up to me, gave me a big hug, and told me I had two options, one she would lend me a skirt so that I could go home; the other is you stay here for the next few days. I smiled at her; she obviously has had this planned for longer than I had thought.

I presumed that I would be on my feet for the next few days, I should say heels since they seem to be a part of my outfit for the foreseeable future. I am not sure if I shared her gung-ho attitude, about the dance competitions, partly due to the level of involvement on my part. I guess it is worth a try, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I only wish my writing had some chance of being a success, every day I was more aware of it being wasted time and effort.

Seeing me as a female in a turnabout dance competition, is far fetched, but I presume not as out there as myself as a top selling author. If the disguise is good enough, I might be spared a lot of embarrassment, if not, no telling what humiliation I might have to endure. It is a small town, a lot of people know me, especially since I have been helping Lynn in the dance studio.

She shared her bed with me, telling me that she has had all her shots, besides we had lots to do in the next few days, thus no time to fool around. I was offered an oversize T-shirt to wear for pajamas, and two pillowcases were slid over my heels to prevent damage to the heels and bed. According to Lynn, the heels were Jimmy Choo’s, the best in female foot apparel available. The heels were quite comfortable, even though my feet are pointed like I am standing on my toes. It only took me about twenty minutes to get accustomed to walking in them.

Of course, Lynn is in awe of my ability to walk in the five-inch heel. I visited the bathroom, then slid my feet into bed. The pillowcases made it easier to get comfortable as the heels slid on the sheets. I received a passionate kiss, and Lynn thanked me for at least giving it a try. Shortly after getting into bed, she cuddled my back, with her arm over my side with her hand on my breast. I laid there staring at the ceiling for a while but soon lost consciousness, with only the alarm the next morning making me stir. I made my way to the bathroom. A very necessary task for me in the morning then sat on the toilet to remove the pillowcases and perform my daily ablutions.

Lynn had made her way to the kitchen and made coffee and had sliced some fruit and had some toast ready. I usually do not eat much in the morning but with no idea what is on the day’s agenda, decided to make an exception today. I was given a skirt to wear today, along with a cami top. When she caught my stare as I looked at the clothing that had been handed me, she told me that “you will have a coat to wear over them, the salon is only two blocks away, and very few people are out this early in the morning.”

I was going to ask just what is going to be done to me but decided that for the impersonation to be perfect, it would require me to be a female. To minimize any humiliation with regards to me, I was more than willing for the transformation to be nearly perfect. That would be much better than being laughed at. That pretty much handled what is going to be done to me; they were going to transform me into a female, a sexy one if Lynn is going to use the provocative costumes. I put on the clothes and Lynn took my hand, and we are on our way. When she closed and locked her door, an extra wave of nausea washed over me. I was out in public dressed as a woman, with a minimum of clothes on, and I am scared to death.

We walked to the salon, and I was surprised at how little attention I had received. At the front desk, Lynn told them my name and that I had an appointment for the works. Since we are entering the turnabout dance contests, we decided to use each other’s name. I should add that Lynn decided that we use each other’s name, although I could see no problem with it. Lynn is sometimes a guy’s name so that I would be spared some embarrassment. But the real Lynn thought her full name would be so much better, so now I am officially Lynnette.

At the salon, a gorgeous blonde came up to the front after being called by the receptionist. She introduced herself as Mary, a transformation specialist for Turnabout Gurl. Now, how do I describe the salon, it dripped femininity from any angle. The colors in the salon were all pinks and pastels, the drapes were light pink sheers, pulled back with Burgundy ribbons. All of the beauty equipment is polished chrome, that and all the mirrors made a bright and shiny appearance. The cushions on the chairs are upholstered in a pink leather, quite attractive, and I may add comfortable.

Mary’s uniform is a Lolita-like dress, very short with lacey petticoats underneath. The neckline is rounded with almost nothing restraining her breasts from escaping the confines of her dress. Her heels are stilettos, five inches tall, with two narrow straps holding them on her feet. Unlike me, her shoes are not locked on. Of course, stockings are worn, attached to a garter belt that peeked out every once in a while from underneath all of the petticoats. Her hair is an up do with tendrils of curls over each ear. Like I said the place dripped femininity.

She grabbed my hand and led me back to a treatment room; Lynn wished me luck, telling me that she would pick me up at five tonight. I gave her the deer in the headlight look; that is seven hours from now, and I silently prayed to whoever to save me from my apparent fate. My prayers are not answered, and fifteen minutes later I am naked and lying on the table to be waxed. Mary is a skilled professional, making quick work of what little body hair I possessed. Somewhere in the initial meeting the key to my shoe locks was given to Mary, so they were now sitting to the side waiting for my transformation to be completed.

No area left untouched, from my eyebrows to my toenails, I am smooth and feminine. Next, she rearranged me on the table, placing my feet in some attachments on the end of the table. She placed straps around my ankles and moved the stirrups as far apart as possible, stepping into the space between my legs she sprayed a liquid on my groin, shortly after that there was no feeling.

She started doing away with my male organs, twisting and pushing until they were positioned where she wanted them. It took her about an hour to do the manipulation and place the prosthetic over my male area, creating a truly feminine looking vulva in the process.

I wondered why I had to have a vulva since I would always be wearing a dress for the competition. Another question for Lynn tonight. I am curious as to the necessity of having a vagina, but the thought never occurred to me to ask before my equipment is nestled behind a very female pair of lips.

Mary placed a couple of fairly heavy silicone blobs on my chest and marked their proper location. Then glue was added and allowed to get tacky. Then she turned the breast form inside out and placed a small recession in the back of the form over my nipple. She pushed down fairly hard to assure contact and adhesion. After fifteen seconds, she released the hold and positioned the rest of the breast form over my chest being sure to match the markings she had placed on my chest.

She added a little more glue to the edges of the form and smoothed the tapered edge with her finger. I had to lift my head to see the finished product; they were moving like they are made of Jell-O, always in motion. Then in between my two new mounds I caught a glimpse of my vulva, now there was no doubt as to my sex, female all the way. I knew that my few male features on the rest of my body would only enhance the feminine look.

Before Mary moved on to other things she closed the door to the treatment room and asked me to pinch my nipples, I did and let go of them fast, like they were red hot. I could feel the pinch like the nipple is actually mine. Next, she asked me to probe my new vulva, being careful not to scratch my insides with my fingernail. She supplied some lube, then watched me as I probed with my finger. My index finger was about half way in when I touched something that sent waves of pleasure through my body. Mary stated that the appliance would allow intercourse, as long as the partner is not super-endowed. That was information that I am not sure I needed to be informed of. I don’t think that I would ever contemplate having sex with a male, whether I looked like a female or not.

Next comes my hair; it is shampooed and conditioned, and then dye added to convert my hair color to a strawberry blonde. Three new holes in each ear are added two studs, and a long dangly hoop is inserted into the new holes. All of this for a trial run for this new type of dance contest?

Once the dye had thoroughly processed, it is rinsed out, and a conditioner is used on me. Then back in the styling chair and she sectioned and combed out my new blonde hair. Each section is carefully cut, her aim is to create a curly up do, something perfect for dancing and quite retro. Once the cut is finished, she started winding my hair on rollers. In less than thirty minutes, my head had over sixty rollers on it. The rollers are all sizes with larger ones on the top of my head and smaller ones near my neckline.

A dryer is rolled over and the next hour is spent with the warm air cascading over my head. I nearly dozed off a couple of times, but half way through that hour Mary came back pushing a cart loaded with nail polish and manicuring supplies. She placed both my hands into bowls of liquid, letting them soak while she got ready to finish my hair.

As she started removing the rollers she told me that she had used their special setting lotion, a fairly new development of Turnabout Gurl. After just one use, to renew the curl only required the spraying of water on the hair. The curl would instantly reform and then using only warm heat the hair can be dried. Once dried the curls can be brushed out into the proper style.

I managed to see the implications of this; I was stuck with a feminine head of curls until the setting lotion finally quit working. This experiment is supposed to be for only one dance, to see if the idea might be feasible. Now destiny seems to have interceded, and there may be many dances in the future as a female. That is particularly relevant since I had breasts and a vagina.

The nails are next, after receiving a manicure, Mary applied extensions to each of my fingernails. One look at the extensions and I will not be writing for quite some time. They extended an inch past my fingertips, seems like dancing as a female might be the only thing I am capable of in the near future. It certainly won’t be doing anything with my hands. I received a dark Burgundy polish after a base coat had been applied. Then that is finished off with two more coats of color than a high gloss topcoat. My nails sparkled like beacons, flashing color with every hand movement.

Mary cleaned up the manicuring supplies then repositioned me in the styling chair. The chair is leaned back some, and she applied a cleansing mask to my face. That stayed on for twenty minutes; then she rubbed cream into my beard area. The fact that she used gloves to apply the cream should have given me a hint of what the cream could do, but being a male did leave me at a mental disadvantage.

That last cream stayed on for thirty minutes while she worked on my eyebrows. I was surprised that there were any eyebrows left after her attack. When I am finally allowed to see my image, there is a two hair wide pencil thin arch above each eyebrow, and that is it. As I am trying to take in the appearance of my eyebrows she is telling me that I no longer had to shave, the cream effectively killing off the hair roots. I wasn’t particularly fond of shaving anyway, but to be told that I would not have a beard ever is shocking. That and my eyebrows made it quite clear, my life as a female has begun in earnest.

In a way, I hoped that Lynn’s idea for the dance competitions is going to work out since I doubt that I could return to my former life or any part thereof in the future. I kept glancing in the mirror throughout the day, and each treatment left me more feminine. The male me is gone, I think for good. Even if I started dressing like a male, it would be months before the image matched the gender, if ever.

Next is makeup; Mary rolled over a cart with every conceivable cosmetic known to man, that should be woman. She tried different shades to get my colors, then showed me how to apply them. Several times she had me start over until she was finally happy with my efforts. The nails added quite a bit of difficulty to the task of applying makeup. The elegant tips making any use of my hands almost useless, especially eyeliner and mascara. I had to learn to use the pads of my fingers to grab anything, the extensions even made approaching something difficult. I did manage to somehow get makeup on me, but realized I would have to practice quite a bit to be able to do it in a reasonable amount of time.

Then the last time she showed me how to remove the makeup for bed then had me reapply the whole concoction again. Of course, Lynn took that moment to show up, standing out of my sight as I applied the cosmetics to my face. When I finished, she came over to compliment me on my skills and give me a hug. No kissing, since it would smudge my lipstick. I was lost in my thoughts, a tender kiss might be nice though and sorely needed right now.

Mary said that I am finished for the day, I looked around for my clothes, but they were not where I had left them. Lynn handed me a bag; your clothes are here. I looked in the bag, a little leery of what I would find, and true to my hunch, the clothes within are all female. I looked into the mirror; the body is now female, I guess the clothes should fit the body. I am helped into the feminine items, some of which I hadn’t seen on any female that I had ever dated.

Panties first, then a bra, followed by a camisole. The first time a male wears a bra, it seems to feminize him. There is really no individual item of a female’s lingerie that so personifies a woman as a brasserie. As I slipped my arms into the straps, it was like I was surrendering to the female gender. Then, when Lynn helped me lean forward to get my breasts in the cups, then fasten the clasp in back, it was the final step in the gender change.

Lynn couldn’t be practical and bring me some pants or, at least, a pair of shorts; no she decided I need a dress. The dress had a fitted bodice, with a full skirt that swished against my legs as I moved around. My heels are still with me, a constant reminder of my commitment to this crazy idea, but I seldom thought of them anymore since I had become used to them on my feet. We left the salon, with me being told to be back tomorrow for a lesson in female deportment and in how to manage my hair.

The walk back to the studio is uneventful but filled with lots of new feelings. The jiggling of my breasts in their bra, the feel of the earrings as the one pair swayed against my neck. All of this and more making me acutely aware of my new gender.

I am now Lynnette, a female in all things I do, and a female in all of my thoughts and actions. My right hand reached for my swaying skirt to hold down the hem, my other hand to my side, although a little further out to allow for my wider hips, that courtesy of some hip padding added to the panties I had been coerced into wearing.

The biggest difference is in my perception of where I am and of how seemingly all male attention is focused on me. Every male we passed seemed to take in my appearance, forming some kind of opinion of me as they passed. Lynn assured me that they were admiring my looks and whether they had a chance with me. That thought caused shivers up and down my spine. The sad truth is that I now will be a focus of that male attention whether I wished it or not.

When we got to the studio, Lynn set up some music, and she took my hands and started dancing. It was different from how we danced with me in male clothing. I am dancing in female mode, but the dynamics of the situation have changed. My breasts, the lack of a male organ between my thighs and the numerous feelings from my now feminine clothing made the dancing so different. I was in another world, following Lynn’s lead and the music made me dance like I hadn’t a care in the world. I was free, allowing my feminine feelings to guide me around the dance floor.

When the music stopped, Lynn kissed me on the lips, complimenting me on my dancing. As she put it, we floated around the dance floor as a couple, a couple in love moving as one.

Now I am sure you have a lot of questions as to why there were several things done to you that you felt were not necessary. You are a sensuous person and with the changes made to you today, the feminine instincts came to the forefront, allowing you to immerse yourself in the female gender. Thus, your dancing has become fantastic. We spent, at least, another hour practicing, although with our previous practice it is more getting comfortable in our new roles.

The heels did become painful after that extra hour, but after being able to sit for a while, it is livable with. She is ecstatic at my progress, feeling that we had a good chance to win at least one event this weekend. It had been a long day, experiencing a lot of things that I have never dealt with before.

Tonight when she spooned my back, her hand found a sizable breast to massage and hold. It did feel good, but I am quite conflicted, not knowing how I should react to the feelings. Lynn did buy me some more heels, all expensive brands that fitted me comfortably, mostly four and five inch heels. Luckily not with locks. The first few steps out of the heels made my situation very clear. I was walking on my toes, to keep the pain from my calves down. My tendons had tightened in the last couple of days, now to be comfortable walking I would require some type of heel.

I noticed that with all the dancing with me in the female role I started to act more submissive. When Lynn brought something up, I acquiesced instead of offering an alternative or telling her no. Nothing bad happened because of my submissiveness, but it is a noticeable change in my demeanor.

I woke early, making us some hot cocoa, and oatmeal. Lynn joined me as soon as she smelled the chocolate. We stayed up, even though my appointment is, at least, three hours away.

As I am learning to handle my hair and become a proper young lady, Lynn is going to go through her Mother’s dresses and select some that might fit the type of dancing we were going to do. Although it is extra work, she suggested that I change dresses for each different type of dance. Some of the other contestants in other local competitions had not done so, maybe costing them a chance for finishing higher in the competition.

The happenings at the salon are easier to handle today, the deportment lessons basically just common etiquette. Ballroom dancing involved some of these already, so it is not a stretch for me to master them fairly quickly.

Doing my hair, that is a totally different situation. If my nails were of a sensible length, I might have been able to get by, but since I had the ultimate in feminine nails, I learned the steps to get my hair looking proper but was unable actually to do it myself. Mary assured me that after a few days, I would be able to style my own hair. Lynn decided to use the salon’s services instead until I could do the styles myself.

That night more dancing to several different songs, most of the time I managed to lose myself in the number, dancing away like I had been doing it all my life. Lynn did have me try on her mother’s dresses, six in total and of those she selected three that would be perfect for the competition. She pinned some alterations she wanted to have done, a friend of hers would have the alterations done first thing in the morning.

Two of the dresses had plunging necklines, and Lynn decided one of them should plunge a little more. A lace-up bustier, sans the straps, is the only undergarment I could wear other than panties. For one dance where she dips me and then spins me around it is decided that a little adhesive might be necessary to keep my breasts in their cups.

The day of the competition starts like a regular day, but soon my nerves and excitement get the best of me, and I lose what little I had eaten for breakfast. Lynn makes some herbal tea for me, a blend to calm me down a little. At four in the afternoon, I start to do my makeup and hair, not wanting to chance my ability to get it right the first time. Surprisingly it did come out the first time, better than I had done previously.

Lynn wanted me to do it myself, although she could help if I had trouble. The idea is that it would keep me from getting as nervous and if we are to do more competitions the practice would be valuable. She helped me with my garment bags, and we left for the club. When we arrived, we were shown to a dressing room at the back with two couples already there. One obvious female told Lynn that two female couples are not allowed, Lynn smiled, pointed to me and replied she is a male.

The lady seemed shocked but stayed, the other couple left, apparently we were too good in our roles to compete against this evening. In total, there were seven couples for the contest, although two of the couples were quite comical. I changed dresses to the first costume; then we made our way to the dance floor. You could tell that they didn’t have this as planned as it should be, several mistakes made as the contest proceeded. It wasn’t too long before we were announced and the dance started. I surrendered myself to Lynn and just followed her lead. They did have an excellent sound system, and the music swept us away.

I thought we had messed up since it was so quiet during the dance, in these clubs usually someone is saying something or remarking about the dancers as it is going on, but not tonight, I tried to think if it was this quiet when the other dancers did their turn, but I honestly couldn’t remember. The music stopped, and it was still quiet, then as she is leading me off the floor, the applause is deafening.

The other two dances were about the same; it turned out we were the audience favorite, getting more applause than all of the other couples combined. The last costume of the evening for me is quite risqué, gaining more than a little attention from the males in the audience. One of the judges seriously doubted our turnabout roles and asked to see some ID. He was positive that I was a real female trying to fool the judges. In a way Lynn was a little put out, he had no trouble with her being a real male, both of us out to make a quick buck. I kidded her quite a bit about that on the way back to her apartment.

We did win the contest that night, getting all of the judge’s votes including the judge that doubted that I was a male. I thought all the way to the apartment about our win, and what it meant for me. I knew Lynn would want to enter the other contests; apparently we could be successful at it, even knowing that the competition would be better in the future. Was this what I wanted to do, though, portraying a female all the time, that part I was indecisive about?

We opened a bottle of wine and sipped it in her living room, both of us trying to get our thoughts together to talk about the future. I eventually started the conversation, asking her if she thought we could make enough money from the contests to support us. She thought we could, but where she thought we would gain the most money is from sponsorships from some of the companies doing business with the dance community. Several of the companies doing dresses for the females would be likely candidates to use us in their advertising and furnish me with additional dresses to wear in the competition as a side benefit.

Your looks are so female, that you would be a natural for this type of ad. Once these contests pick up some more support, you will be featured on all of the dance magazine's front covers. I corrected her; we will be featured on the front covers. I ain’t doing it if you don’t, that is final. She giggled alright we will be the featured dancers on a lot of publications.

I told her that I am not that keen on the 24/7 impersonation, she nodded, but you know it can’t be turned off and on, once you start you have to keep it up, or you will be doing nothing but changing genders in you off time. I did realize that, but could I do it for the future until we found something else to do with our lives. I told her I would think about it real hard, maybe get away for a day or two to think things through. Then I realized what I looked like; I would have to portray a female for my get away. Not my original intention, but maybe a good way to see if I can handle living the female life.

Lynn had some classes she couldn’t get away from, so I was on my own for the next few days. She did tell me that she is reserving a spot at the next Turnabout dance competition if I changed my mind she could always cancel. I decided to visit my older sister who lived about five hours away. I called her and asked if I could hang out with her for a couple of days, her husband had just left on a business trip for three weeks, so she said come on. I packed my things and headed her way. I had to stop for fuel once and at a rest stop to use the bathroom, but nothing happened and I did use the proper facilities for my new gender.

I didn’t tell my sister I was in girl mode, not sure why I didn’t, it was in my original plan to do so. I drove up to her house and her two kids came running to the car. Both are girls, they paused to take a closer look at me then dragged me into the house, no comments, not even a slowdown in their conversation. Betsy, my sister, however did stare. Her mouth open, then OMG emerged. I really think it took her those few moments to figure out who I was. She tried to squeeze the paste out of me, I am sure if I had been a tube of toothpaste I would now be empty. The girls helped me bring in my things, taking them to the guest room. Meanwhile, Betsy was conducting an interrogation of me.

Over the next hour I divulged all, telling her about Lynn, her ideas and what has happened over the last few months. Betsy was intrigued about the dance contests, since she had danced some in college, she knew something about it. She grabbed her local paper and scanned the local entertainment section. There at the bottom of the page is a club that advertised it was holding a turnabout competition this weekend, of course, Betsy wanted to go. After she got the girls to bed she moved some furniture in the living room so that we could practice some. She put on some music and dragged me to the center to dance with her.

She was pretty good, as soon as she remembered she had to lead, not as good as Lynn, but quite respectable. We danced for over an hour, only to find her girls watching us from the stairs. She again put them to bed then joined me in the kitchen. I had made us some herbal tea, I for one needed the soothing tea in my body.

We talked, I told her that was not my intention to come up here to dance more, but she gave me that puppy dog look that she is so good at, and of course I gave in. She has always had the ability to coerce me into doing whatever she wanted. The additional years have not changed anything, maybe her skill has been honed to perfection, but she will never admit to anything.

We danced some more during the day as she found a baby sitter, made the girl’s dinner and went through her closet looking for me a suitable dress to use for the competition. She found one, a few scraps of material that hardly covered anything, I was not happy about the choice, but she had used the evil eye on me all day, so I could hardly refuse her wish. She wore an old suit of her husband’s, with her feet in a pair of penny loafers. She slicked her hair down, no makeup, and used an ace bandage to keep her sizable breasts from ruining the effect.

Of course, I had to do the whole process starting with a bath and ending walking down the stairs in five inch heels. She was pissed to the wind that I could handle the heels better than she ever did, mumbling under her breath quite often about the fact. She drove to the club, we entered and she paid the fifty dollar entrance fee. She steered me to an empty table with her hand in the middle of my back guiding me. Each couple would be called up, having to dance the song that they had been selected for.

We were about half way in the group of participants, a typical ball room waltz played as we danced around. The judges seemed impressed, their eyes never leaving our bodies. When they announced the five semifinalists we were in that group. They started playing different songs and the couples danced to the songs. After each song a couple would be eliminated, till they were only two couples left. It took three more songs before the winner is announced, the crowd quite happy at our choice to be the winning couple. We met with the club owners, received our three hundred dollar prize, and then left after taking the time for a couple of drinks.

So when I returned home Lynn was waiting for me, shaking her head at me as I walked up to her. “So I let you go off to relax and unwind and you end up dancing again. What am I going to do with you?” I was already red in the face, as I tried to figure out how she knew what I had done. It turns out Sis had called her, bragging to her about how good a dancer I was. I was kidded some more, her only stopping when I had told her everything about the weekend.

The next competition was two weeks away, so I practiced my hair and makeup skills as Lynn helped at the dance studio. Surprisingly she had some interest in the turnabout dances, several couples interested in learning the reversed steps, so that they could maybe enter a contest or two. They were not out to win the competition, just wanting to have some fun doing something they would never do normally. Lynn set up a makeshift class, with her teaching the female partner to lead and I was drafted to teach the male partner how to follow. Both couples that had signed up for the class were a lot of fun, having a ball as they learned the steps.

One of the males was smaller, and would make a presentable female for the contest. The other male was taller, he looked alright dressed as a female, but his forte was his dancing. Even doing the following he was light on his feet, having fun during the entire class. We wished them luck, they were going to attend the same competition as us, but the open part of the competition. Both couples placed, the female part of the couples quite happy at the results and their husbands participation. The smaller male had confided in me that the sex before the contest was the best of their married life.

Our part was later in the evening, this contest set up and run better, we were allowed to pick our music and we were the second couple to take to the stage. All in all there were eight couples for the Waltz portion of the contest, we made the finals, most of the other couples were competent but needed to dance some more together so the dances were more relaxed not stiff and stuffy. They ran the qualifying round for each dance picking finalists then after all three had been staged, the final dance to pick the winner in each type of dance.

We easily took the top spot in each dance, again a Judge had doubted my gender, this time Lynn had my driver’s license and accompanying pictures for proof of my gender. I know it was getting to Lynn, I was questioned but she was not, obvious to everybody she was a female posing as a male.

This time we left with three thousand dollars in prize money, plus a reporter was there from one of the dance magazines wanting to do an article on us, and feature me on their front cover for next month’s issue. Lynn was all for it, I had some reservations, but I did agree to the interview eventually. An hour later the reporter had the interview done with accompanying pictures of me in all three costumes used during this contest.

Lots more competitions in the following weeks, with us taking the top spots in most of them. We did have some serious competition in a couple of the contests, word getting around about the prize money offered, making more serious dancers enter the contests.

We danced in the competitions for five years, before the novelty of the contests waned, eventually ending the contests. We had put most of our prize money away for just such an occurrence, so life continued on, both of us now involved in her dance studio. All of that time dressed and living as a female had taken its toll on me, so I continued in that role, a more natural way of life for me. We still go out dancing with me always following her lead, a role I am used to and so enjoy.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Yvonne: Loved And Treasured

Yvonne: Loved And Treasured

I slipped on my sweats quickly, having only a few minutes to get down to the main floor of the dorms to await my ride to the salon. The trip to the salon was not one I was looking forward to, but one that couldn’t be avoided.

A little history of this soon to be adult. I have been in this particular boarding school for five years now, a few weeks from graduating hopefully. Mother was the reason for me being here, divorced now and trying hard to keep a roof over our head. Her longtime school friend ran the boarding school, offering to allow me to go to the school for free. The school was not really out any money, since the room had to be maintained anyway and she was short a few students from a full enrollment.

The school stressed academics and excellent grades were expected from all of their students. That made getting the good grades harder since to get an A you had to score 98 or higher on a test. In regular schools 85 usually got you an a A.

If the parent wished a reward/incentive could be added to the students file to be implemented to reward or provide an incentive for higher grades. In my case Mom added the incentive, since she was pretty sure there would be no money for college unless I managed a scholarship. I had no idea what the incentive was, but did know at what point it would be applied to me.

I guess I was looking ahead at leaving the school and let my grades slip a little. Unfortunately they slipped past the point of applying the incentive. I had an idea what she might have arranged; a specific incentive since the length of my hair has been a major point of contention between us ever since I came to the school. I liked long hair and resisted any attempts at cutting it. The school had some rules in place, male hair length not allowed past the bottom of the ears. To evade the scissors I had to wear it in a ponytail, with a pink ribbon bow. That was the compromise that Mom and the head mistress had worked out allowing me to keep the long hair.

Mom told me in a matter of fact way that any more discussion on the subject would end up with me in curls. She didn’t like long hair on me, it would make getting a job difficult or impossible for me. I know she was trying to see that after school I would be able to provide for myself, but I somehow didn’t think having longish hair would keep me from finding some employment. So at best a stalemate was achieved as long as I wore the bow in my hair.

Yes, I was embarrassed by the bow often, but was steadfast in keeping my long hair. I got kidded, even the females in the school getting involved. I frequently had lipstick applied to my lips, one girl in particular catching me and removing my bow, running away with it. That would require me to head back to my dorm room and obtain another bow, before I was caught by a faculty member and written up.

The males were not to be left out, the number of times my male clothes disappeared in gym class too numerous to count. I was always left a dress to wear, now half of my closet in the dorm filled with dresses. My male clothes never did turn up again, it was now getting to the point I had very few male clothes left to wear, surprised I made it this far in my time spent here.

The hair issue did not really get to the point of me having to wear a bow until a year ago when the length of it exceeded the dress code rule. Last look in the closet I had only a few outfits left that would be considered male in looks, since there was still several gym classes left to take not a promising situation to face.

I was unsure about the appointment at the salon Mom had made for me, but there was still a few weeks of school left and the dreaded finals were still to be taken. Plenty of time still for her incentive to have an effect on me and my grades. One of the salon employees was to pick me up, as a favor for my mother. Also not allowing me an easy escape from the appointment.

The lady showed up, and I was shown to her car. The ride was pleasant as she asked about me and my schooling, a real novelty these days to find someone actually interested in others. It turned out she would also be the one treating me today. Everything was explained in detail, I was going to receive extra long hair extensions in a lighter hair color, making my hair appear frosted. A style cut into the hair with long bangs that could be swept to one side or the other and the rest layered down my back. Curls courtesy of a setting lotion so that one looking at the back of my head would see layers of curls all the way down my back. Since the hair will be so long I will need to put it in a braid every night to keep the tangles manageable. Today she will show me how to do the braid and make sure I could perform the task myself.

At the salon we talked as she was adding the extensions wanting to know about the relationship between myself and my mother. I explained my mother wanting to be sure I could get a college scholarship, that the main reason for the emphasis on my grades and her preference for short hair. I admitted to my grades slipping some, in actuality only a half percentage point drop, thus apparently putting me at the point where the incentive would be employed. We talked about other things then she suggested instead of fighting my Mom why didn’t I embrace the change, taking the incentive a step or two beyond what was intended. If I then applied myself a little more maybe another avenue might open up, a way to still get my scholarship without all the stress and worry.

It sounded good, what did I have to lose. With the new longer locks I will not be classified as a male member of society, no male has hair down to their waist and in curls. I am sure somewhere in the fine print a bow and ribbons will show up, either as part of what Mom had planned or as part of the school dress code as it applies to me. We agreed on some breast forms, pierced ears and long polished nails to start with. Enough to move me to the female category, but still be loosely considered a male gender wise. I did hesitate asking that nothing else be done until I saw my new hairstyle when finished.

Well it was far worse than I imagined, I now looked like a fashion model, the frosted look of the two colors of hair really doing a job on what little masculinity I might have had left. She did show me how to put it in a braid, at that point I saw that the longer hair and its effect on me was only the beginning. Now at least an hour a night, brushing and braiding my hair would be necessary to maintain it. After the second attempt of putting my hair in a braid my arms ached, from having them above my head for so long, trying to fashion the braid.

I decided to go ahead with the step beyond concerning the incentive. The nails were first, extensions added to my existing nails and painted a pink in color. Then my ears pierced, small diamond studs inserted to keep the holes from closing up. I almost chickened out when I saw the size of the breast forms, even though she said there were the right size for my body. After she glued them on my chest I swallowed hard, these are going to change everything about my life. I actually thought a loose top or shirt would conceal them, I was wrong. Very wrong.

The bill had already been paid by Mom, although I don’t think she had anticipated my additions to her planned incentive. Then I made my way home, the thought now appearing in my befuddled mind that I would have to face her with my additions, with no idea how to explain why I had chosen them. Maybe this was not such a good idea. My mode of transportation to my home was the bus, an entirely different experience looking so much like a female.

As I entered the house she was waiting for me, checking me out and even poking my new breasts. I opened my mouth in surprise, I actually felt her poke me, impossible I would think since it was only a breast form. She smiled, a bigger then ever smile, lighting up the whole room. I backed up a little, this in not what I was expecting from her. Where is the yelling and screaming, the lecture about how this ruins everything?

She grabbed my hand and led me to my bedroom, sitting me on the edge of the bed. I looked at her, then around the room, my jaw dropping, my heart stopping mid beat and my hands getting clammy and cold. This is not my room, where am I? Frilly curtains, walls painted a light apple green and pictures of females in evening wear adorning the walls. Mirrors on my closet door and inside nothing but dresses and skirts. A vanity over by the window, its top loaded with makeup of every kind. My focus was back to my Mom now, her larger than life smile still there.

“I see we have arrived at the same destination even though we have taken different paths to get there. What you have done has saved me weeks of fiddling and scheming, so thank you in advance. Now you are officially my daughter, a cute pretty female that is quite smart. That intelligence along with your looks will get you everything in life, so you are now prepared for a life of a female, to be taken care of, to be loved and to be treasured by your spouse. A batting of those eyelashes and anything else you may want is yours. No need for the scholarship now for collage, this will get you farther than any degree could possibly do for you.

Change into something more revealing and we will eat out tonight, we may even be able to find a young man that might be interested in you yet today. Who knows. Oh wear the pink ribbons in your hair, they go with everything. You look so cute with that long curly hair.

So apparently I had played right into her hands, saving her the trouble of scheming to get me to experience the same thing. I did wear the pink bows and ribbons as I gathered up the mass of curls into a very loose ponytail situated low on my head.

I was not ready for the reaction of others to my new femininity. Especially the stares from anything resembling a male. From the car to the restaurant I was constantly ogled, even a few with their mouth open in lust. The waiter while taking our orders seemed obsessed with me, his eyes seldom left my breasts, although I think he was also fascinated with my hair, as close as he was standing next to me. I mean he was never more than an inch or two from my body, with him having to stare straight down to see me. While Mom was having a giggling fit he checked my water and iced tea four times during the meal making sure it was filled to the brim. I even got a free dessert, one that I shared with my Mother, mainly to keep her from giggling or outright laughing at me. As we left the restaurant she just smiled at me, yes the world is now obtainable for her daughter, but she does need a new wardrobe.

So we went shopping, five hours of traipsing through every store in the mall, trying on hundreds of clothing possibilities to see if it was suitable for her daughter. Mom spent nearly eight hundred dollars on me that evening, then I remembered I still had a couple of weeks of school left. So with my new figure, female clothes the likely attire for my remaining weeks of school.

My fellow students treated me just like a real female, the trouble I had in the past never to appear again. I did do better in my studies, I presume since I was still getting used to my new body and clothes a lot less masculine to distract me. Whatever the reason my grades improved significantly, five A’s and one A minus for my final grades. That resulted in me graduating in the top third of my class, a feat for this former male to be sure.

Oh, I was dressed as a female for my graduation, my wardrobe now exclusively for the female gender. My former male clothes, what I had left of them, vanished that first week never to re-appear again.

I still wear the pink bows, not because I have to but because they looked good with my new wardrobe. Mom did like pink anything, the majority of my new attire in that color or shades thereof. After graduation the school held an open house for potential employers to meet the new graduates and maybe connect with someone they might like to hire. I was dressed to the nines for the open house, Mom made sure of that. Along with the clothes I received a new name, Mom deciding the name Yvonne was perfect for me. A much better choice than my old moniker of Vance.

During the open house I was never alone, lots of people wanting to talk to me and ask questions. I ended up with nine interviews scheduled for the next few days, at their places of business. Mom made sure I was briefed on each business and how to put off any decision till I had attended the other interviews. A new dress was required for each interview, a female can’t be seen wearing the same dress in a month’s time, unwritten rule number one. Shopping again, this time the perfect dress had to be found for each interview. Mom had done the research on each company, what they looked for in their new employees compiling a dossier on each company I had an interview with. Don’t ask me how she found out all of this information, she just did.

Everything worked out, two of the interviews ended up offering me a job, the second one of the two I was in favor of. The male that conducted the interview spent over three hours with me, coercing every bit of information out of me, including the fact that I was born male. It didn’t seem to make a difference, the rest of the interview was carried out as if that bit of info made no difference in his assessment of where I might fit in with the company. In his summation I was offered the job, with him asking me if I could start immediately. Of course I told him yes, he seemed nice and very interested in me, a definite possibility if I was looking for a mate. I did notice he didn’t wear any wedding rings, and that he wrote my phone number down on a separate slip of paper and put that paper in his pocket.

I was told where to report tomorrow and a brief description of my job duties, then he wished me well and the interview was over. I was expecting a hug, but after I eased out of the office, I realized it would be inappropriate at my interview appointment. I can dream though can’t I?

The first week at my new job went well with him checking on my progress daily. I liked the job, fairly easy for me, and my work colleagues accepting me into their work group with open arms. Then the end of the second week Scott came to check on me again. After some small talk, he asked me out to dinner, wanting to talk with me about my job and how I have been treated so far. Whatever the reason I was all for it, I was running out of dresses to win him over, and my salon appointments were already three times a week to make sure I looked beautiful at all times.

Surprisingly there were very few questions about work or how I was being treated, on the dinner date. The time spent talking about me and what I wanted out of life. Then an equal amount of time spent on him, with both of us having the same things in mind for our future.

That Friday was the first of many weekly dates, over the next few months, Recently I got asked to accompany him to his parent’s house for the weekend, that simple act thrilling me immensely. I apparently passed with flying colors, his Mom spending time with me and already treating me like a daughter-in-law. It was exactly three months to the day when I was called into his office for my three month evaluation. He spent well over two hours going over every facet of my job and how I was doing.

Then he paused as he asked me if I would be open to other employment possibilities. I nodded my head, then smiled as he pulled a ring box out of his desk drawer. He scooted off his chair and got on one knee asking me to marry him. After our engagement he wanted me to be a full time wife, tending to his needs and taking care of him.

He moved pretty fast asking me to move in with him a few weeks later, that way I could get an idea of what I could expect as his wife and lover. I was all for that, the kiss that I received when I accepted the ring a tasty treat, leaving me wanting for more, much more. We lived together for a year, when he flew me to Las Vegas for a quick wedding and then to Hawaii for a week long honeymoon. I saw very little of the islands, but the hotel suite we had was quite comfy and adequate for our needs.

My wardrobe has grown exponentially and I still have two salon appointments a week to keep me looking my best. My hair is now down to my butt, kept silky and shiny by the salon staff. I still remember back so long ago when I made the decision to embrace my female self, the best decision I have ever made. Long curly hair was just the start. To be loved and treasured the reward.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca