Claudia; Fashions And Friends

Claudia; Fashions And Friends

I started and developed my own business, a project very few people have had any luck with. It took more than a couple of years to get it off the ground and eventually profitable, but with perseverance and lots of will power I was able to succeed in the long run. My solution as to what to do to make that possible was to buy older clothes, that were being routinely disposed of at thrift stores and charity shops and remake them into current fashions. I started with male clothes. But found that was not my magical key to success. Men’s fashions do not change that much, so even if the garment was changed from the original design, it still looked somewhat out dated. However, female fashions were a totally different story. Take a full skirt and change the waistband, then re-cut it to a pencil style skirt after shortening the hem and the once disposable skirt, now a fashion desirable. The main advantage in using older clothes is the fabrics available back then were much higher quality then those in use today.

It took the gals that I hired a few days to catch on to what I wanted, but they were soon evaluating the incoming goods and turning it into modern fashionable designs that were sought after and desired by the bargain conscious female shopper. I purchased a warehouse, where the ladies could perform the work. Then stuck my neck out and bought new sewing machines and laundry equipment for the ladies to use. The warehouse was fair sized, but was kind of out of the way, hence the selling price was reasonable. It had a lot of skylights, so additional lighting was not necessary for the ladies to do the work, other than what was on the sewing machines.

At first, I only had a corner of the building I had purchased for the sale of the garments. As we produced more unique garments and word of mouth spread I decided to open a stand alone store specifically for selling the goodies we were producing. It took about two weeks for our customers to find the new store, since I was doing all of this without advertising what we were doing. Let’s face it money was tight, with the wages I was paying, two payments on property I was purchasing, and now more help to run the store.

Things progressed so at the end of the sixth month we now had five stores and word of mouth was spreading about what we offered and our reasonable prices. I now have two females out doing the buying, shopping all of the thrift stores within a hundred miles looking for goods we could redo. I had done the initial buying of clothes, but the gals did so much better at picking what could be transformed into something salable.

We had branched out to every type of female garment, including dresses, blouses, skirts, shorts and even some evening wear. In a couple of instances the places we shopped at would set aside incoming donations till we had a chance to go through them, they still got their desired price for the items but did not have to clean, hang and pay someone to sell the item.

My ladies doing the renovations on the garments now numbered fifty doing the cutting and sewing, along with twenty ladies manning the stores and selling the merchandise. The gals doing the renovations were accomplished seamstresses, taking an old garment and making it desirable, in most cases, in less than an hour. That along with the two ladies doing the purchasing left me with quite a payroll. The first year I had reasonable success with selling the goods, but paying on the properties I was buying and the initial cost of the sewing machines and laundry equipment left very little for me after payroll was deducted from the quote unquote profit. There was a light at the end of the tunnel though, as I now owned most of the equipment used in the production of the garments and had paid down considerable on the warehouse and stores I was purchasing that were used in making and selling the finished designs.

I found out from the two buyers that extra items were being added to their selections, the stores adding in things they could not sell rather than have to pay to dispose of said items. The girls had started marking their purchases with a colored plastic strip, barely visible but proof of what items they had indeed paid for. The ladies doing the cutting and sewing went through everything, if they could do something with the item it was handled whether it was a purchased item or not.

One of my first hires, a lady by the name of Florence did the sorting of each completed item, looking for the small plastic strip as she sorted the items to be sent to the stores. She quickly learned the wants of each stores clientele, sending the appropriate item to the store most likely to be able to sell that item. Things she was in doubt about were stored in the part of the warehouse where we first had set up a place to sell our products. Now that area was becoming full, but the ladies were doing such a good job in redesigning the clothes that I didn’t want to complain or in anyway make a fuss about what they chose to make out of the used clothes.

In a way we were like a big family, several of the ladies husbands drove their trucks and vans to pickup the clothes, with me paying them a fee for their efforts. One of the gals older daughters did the cleaning around the warehouse, then one day a week made a trip to each store to handle anything that needed to be done there. Every couple of weeks she would clean my apartment, I paid her a salary, her gratitude shown to me often quite visible. I was always hugged and received many cheek kisses, her little way to show me how much she appreciated the job. In fact, over the last two years most of my employees greeted me with hugs and kisses. I presume this treatment was since I did not tell them exactly what to do, just let them loose to do what they thought appropriate. I knew everybody by name and asked about their families as I made my rounds. Even though I had stopped to talk to them they never stopped sewing or working on their project.

My lease on my apartment was up for renewal in a month, the landlord seeing a way to squeeze more rent out of me, so I decided to convert the old store in the warehouse into an apartment for me. A couple of the gals husbands were contractors so Florence arranged to have them do the work, saving me quite a chunk of money. I had already seen some of their work at the stores as they remodeled a bathroom or built a service counter. Somehow, Florence made all the garments that were stored in the unused store disappear and the work began, I had told them what I desired, but left it up to them how it would be completed. I was forbidden to look at the work being done, Florence said it would be a nicer surprise when the job was completed. Eight weeks later they finished their work, at only a fraction of the estimated cost.

A grand unveiling was planned for this Friday, all of the employees invited to see what had been done and whether I liked it or not. We even closed the stores early so those ladies could attend. Florence arranged for everyone to make a dish to bring to the unveiling, tables being set up in the warehouse so everyone could partake of all of the goodies. I suggested that their families be included too, that suggestion getting me more than a little heartfelt attention and thanks from the ladies.

We ate first then the apartment doors were opened and everyone toured my new abode. I had tears in my eyes as I made my way through the place, everything I had desired and so much more. There were curtains over each window, recognizing a lot of the material used, then on the beds were matching bedspreads to coordinate with the curtains. Then I took in a deep breath, realizing that the place was fully furnished, not a stitch of my old worn out furniture from the old apartment visible. The furniture was all second hand some of it from the frequently visited thrift stores, but refinished or re-upholstered as needed. I looked at Florence, who nodded and came to hug me, whispering that all of this was a gift from the girls for what I have done for them. She took hold of my arm and showed me the rest of the place, it was truly phenomenal what they had accomplished.

Florence announced the showing was over, pushing everybody out of the apartment. Once everybody but a few of the girls and her were remaining I was told that the next part of my surprise is non negotiable. Carmelita the gal who cleans my apartment and the rest of the facilities is mainly responsible for this next part. She discovered a hidden stash of clothing at your apartment, along with a wig, some cosmetics and a few other assorted sundries. Your dressing secrets have been talked about for a long time, but know we have proof of our suspicions. So we have decided this has went on long enough. She reached over to me and started unbuttoning my shirt, while one of the others undid my belt and let my pants drop to the floor. As the other gals left the apartment with a piece of my male clothing in their hands, wide spread giggling could be heard.

That left me with Florence who stepped over to one of the closets and swung the door open revealing an awesome array of feminine clothing. At the end of the closet was shelves with underwear neatly stacked on each shelf. The gals had sewn each and every piece selecting their material from all of the free goods that accompanied the items we purchased. Then I was taken by the hand to the second bedroom where an even larger closet was loaded with more feminine finery, racks of shoes lining the floor under the dresses.

On a vanity table near this closet set all of my makeup and two wigs, each on their styrofoam heads. Florence turned me so I had to look at her, you are to dress as a female now, the gals insist, nothing else is acceptable to them. I was pulled tighter to her and hugged tightly, then she suggested it was such a waste standing there nude when so many beautiful feminine clothes were available for wearing.

“The girls have one more surprise for you. Tomorrow at nine A.M. you have an appointment at the Turnabout Gurl salon to convert that male figure into something more appropriate for all of these nice clothes.”

“Once the salon learned what the girls wanted and checked into what we did, the services to correct your figure deficiencies will be no charge to you, since the salon has a favor or two they would like to trade for. In fact, they want to sell some of your items in their salon, a contract to supply them is awaiting for your perusal in your office. I don’t think you will have to worry about selling the goods in the future. Now get dressed, I am tired of looking at that male figure, we need something more colorful and feminine to grace our owner. Something to reflect her true nature in life.”

“Now get some clothes on, the gals are waiting in the warehouse to see you in your new persona, so lets not disappoint them.” I did dress in some of the gorgeous clothes they had made for me, feeling like a princess. I was literally dragged back out to the warehouse, where I spent the next three hours talking with everyone, trying to express my gratitude for all they have done for me. I was hugged tenderly by every gal, called by my new name Claudia and shown the love they had for me. It did not surprise me that not a stitch of my male clothing was ever seen again. The few male garments I was wearing that day left when the gals returned to the warehouse so I could get dressed.

The appointment the next morning took care of my figure deficiencies, Claude now permanently missing. The owner of the salon had made a point to be in town, so she could talk to me about purchasing our clothes to sell in the salons. They already handled a lot of new clothing, but wanted to set aside an area for what we made. In most cases our garments were of better quality than what they were buying new, so a much better deal for their customers. I almost had a heart attack when she mentioned she had over two hundred salons, wanting everything we could produce for her salons.

As they were working on my hair and nails I pondered what to do with the stores I now had. Francine the owner of the salons suggested I set them up as thrift stores, taking donations from the public, then sorting then to what could be worked on. All of the stores but one had no other thrift stores within miles, so we would not be endangering our relationship with ones we were already buying from. It all sounded good to me so I made a note to tell Florence my ideas and let her handle the details.

As I was leaving the salon after they finished with me, I saw my image in the mirror. No doubt any more, the feminine part of me is here to stay, something I had secretly desired for years, but couldn’t figure out a way to make it happen. My friends saw that part of me and made sure it did happen, indeed my employees are my friends, my best friends.

Over the next few weeks we made all the changes, now buying clothes from all over the state. I have seventy seamstresses working for the company now, five buyers out purchasing more goods and five company owned thrift stores. The last store has been turned into a production facility for evening wear, with ten gals there creating lots of beautiful dresses. The deal with the salons worked out perfectly, they sell our creations about as fast as we make them. We will probably have to expand again to be able to keep up with the demand.

Just like in my business, making stylish fashions from discards. Claudia is the stylish female and Claude is the discard. The best part of my job is now going through all of the new clothes picking out what I like for myself. There is an advantage to being the owner, Claudia will always be the best dressed female in town. Also the female with lots of true friends, life couldn't be any better.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Laura: A Life Changing Bet

Laura: A Life Changing Bet

The time had crept up on me, a year earlier my wife and I had an argument about her outrageous salon charges for maintaining her hair style and appearance. Looking back the charges were not that excessive, but I was jealous of anything that took any funds from our joint bank account, money I wanted to spend on my desire to succeed at my job.

We were both employed, her progress in her career much better than mine. She was an executive in her company, a promotion she obtained six months after she was hired. I was hired about the same time as she was, but never did progress past the entry level job. I was desperate to climb the corporate ladder, but being rebuffed at every attempt. I thought that any success at making that promotion was in being dressed as a successful corporate player. Three piece suits, fancy ties and expensive shoes were the norm for me.

I mingled with my competition at sporting events, at the bars after work and at any company function whether I was invited or not. Needless to say all of this was expensive, when compared to what I had managed to obtain job wise, a pure waste of money.

The argument with my wife about her weekly salon charges was an attempt to secure more money for my project. Her salon did do wonders for her, a truly beautiful woman emerged after her weekly appointments. All I could see was that money being used in my attempt at being promoted, to my warped mind a much better use of the funds.

As you can guess she prevailed, her salon appointments secure. But she did make a bet with me. She would loan me the value of a year’s worth of salon appointments for my project, but if after a year I had not managed to secure a promotion I would have to go to the same salon appointments as her for the next year. During that year I would not have any of our joint funds for my project, all funding for my idiotic project will come to a halt.

The money she will loan me is from her private account, money from an inheritance she received when her father died a couple of years ago. All I saw from the bet was more money for my climb up the corporate ladder, never dreaming I might not make it above what I am now. In a year surely I will be promoted at least once, maybe even more than that if I played my cards right. I agreed to the bet, we scribbled the bet down on a piece of paper and both of us signed the bottom. It was folded up and placed in her jewelry box for safe keeping. The next day she gave me a check for the money and I deposited it in our joint bank account.

Things returned to normal, I continued on my spending spree, several new suits and a three hundred dollar pair of shoes my first acquisitions. Over the next few months nothing happened, I had spent all of the money she loaned me and more with no success on the job front.

Monica suggested that I let my hair grow longer, since most of my male colleagues had hair down to their collar already and it didn’t seem to hinder their climb up the corporate ladder. So my monthly barber shop visits were canceled and my hair grew much longer. She also suggested some vitamins, for me to take, helping me with my overall health and giving me more stamina. I eagerly agreed, since I was already suffering from fatigue. Drinking with the boys, sleepless nights and job pressures were taking their toll on me.

The time seemed to fly by, at the end of the year came up I had already gave up hope of being successful, since I had spent most of our extra funds on my project, their was nothing left to make any significant change. I had stopped going out with the boys, no sporting events and unless I was required to attend, no company functions were participated in.

Two days later the agreement we had signed, a year ago, was placed in front of my place at the breakfast table with a time for my first appointment noted at the top of the paper. Then the reality of the situation suddenly made it to the frontal lobe of my brain. I was going to have the same treatments done to me as she experienced, then have to go to work with the changes for all to see. I tried to reason with her, but her finger on my lips stopped that protest immediately.

“You agreed to the bet, it is not my fault you did not realize the full extent of the wager. You have spent a huge portion of our joint funds, plus what I loaned you on this ridiculous scheme of yours. It is now time to pay the piper for your actions. You will attend the salon at the same time I am there, with us both getting the same treatments to make us pretty and beautiful.”

I tried to sway here telling her that I will likely be fired because of my looks, she just smiled.

“Whatever the outcome we will deal with it. If fired you can handle the cleaning, meals and laundry at home, essentially becoming a housewife. If you are moved laterally at work you will accept it willingly, since all of this has a direct connection to your actions over the last year. End of discussion, since this is all because of your attempts to succeed, which, I might remind you, that have failed miserably.”

“We leave for the salon at eight tomorrow morning, the appointment taking about three to four hours. I will drive us, then after the appointment I can drop you off at work. At quitting time I can pick you up, saving quite a bit on gas and car expenses in the meantime. If they terminate you, you can wait in the lobby till five when I will be by to pick you up.”

My comment to all of this never made it out of my mouth, her finger on my lips signaling the end of any further discussion. I suddenly lost any appetite I might have had, now worry consuming me and my thoughts. If only I had moderated my involvement in this project things might have turned out different.

Monica was up before me picking something for me to wear from her closet, then pushed me into the shower. She smeared a cream over every inch of my body, had me wait for fifteen minutes then wash it off. What little body hair I had was now gone, my skin now smooth and soft because of the cream. When I finished in the shower I dried off then proceeded to the bedroom. She was waiting giving me a pair of her panties to wear. I declined pushing her hand with them back towards her. She grabbed a hold of junior, then rubbed the panties over him causing all kinds of eruptions on his part. Another pair of panties were handed me after she cleaned me up and I reluctantly pulled them up my legs. I was embarrassed at her jerking me off destroying any resistance I might have had to her efforts.

I got a blouse to wear, essentially a white dress shirt with buttons on the wrong side, the sleeves long and the fabric of the blouse thinner and nearly transparent. A pair of pants was next, my sigh at being given them instead of a skirt made Monica giggle. The pants had a rear zipper and fitted my body tightly. No socks, a pair of loafers instead of my regular male shoes. She gathered up my ID, credit cards and cash from my wallet and put them in her purse. I was furnished a smaller purse, since the pants had no pockets with enough cash for lunch only. As I was coming to terms with all of these changes I was dragged out the front door and deposited in the passenger seat of her car. A short ride to the salon, then helped out of my seat and led into the salon. We were seated next to each other, while a tech came over and started on Monica. The same tech would be working on both of us, Monica first then me right after she finished with Monica.

Monica’s hair was washed and conditioned, then trimmed into a very feminine hair style. Curlers were added next, as I watched and groaned knowing I would be next. I looked pleadingly at Monica trying to get her attention. When she looked my way she had such a huge smirk on her face. I lowered my eyes some, not wanting to admit that I was trapped, nothing I could do would get me out of this. Unfortunately for me I had walked into the trap too easily. Once her curlers were finished I was next, my hair also washed and conditioned then I received the curlers too. My hair was still a little shorter than Monica’s, but I was told that shortcoming would be handled on my next appointment. She did shape my hair cutting off the split ends as she did so. I did notice she had cut my hair on my forehead into a cute set of bangs, to match Monica’s already cute bangs.

I tried to picture me with Monica’s hair do, the red from extreme embarrassment spreading through out my face and neck. I was placed under the dryer like Monica as the tech moved to work on Monica’s nails. She removed the polish then filed them as needed, applying several coats of new fingernail polish to finish the manicure. She checked the dryness of Monica’s hair, then moved to my nails. It took her longer to get mine into shape, having to file and file to get them presentable. Than to my horror, she glued short extensions to my nails so that my length would match Monica’s. Again the polish, with me having to avoid looking at my nails since they had totally changed the appearance of my hands and arms.

The tech moved back to Monica as she removed her curlers, brushing her hair into the set style. A liberal dose of hair spray to maintain the look and the hairstyle was finished. Monica looked in my direction seeing the fear etched on my face. Her hairstyle seemed far more feminine than she had indulged in previously, most likely a change to insure the degree of my changes to be quite significant.

My hair was next, curlers removed then brushed like Monica’s the hair style was the same, only my hair was shorter then hers. I closed my eyes tightly, not wanting to see my new hair do. Monica asked a question of me causing me to look her way noticing the tech starting on her makeup. Oh gawd no, I let out a pitiful moan, shook my head as the curls of my new hair do bounced against my ears. Of course, Monica was giggling now, her planned bet with me giving her more entertainment than she expected.

I was there as the morning progressed, but out of it mentally. I remember my eyebrows being shaped, to match my wife’s. I remembered mascara being applied to my lashes, several coats that made my lashes heavy and so noticeable. The rest of the makeup followed, things added to my eyes, rouge for my cheeks and lipstick for my plumped lips. In the mirror when I forced myself to peek, there was no sign of anything male, a cute feminine persona the only thing visible now.

I waited to see if the tech was going to do anything else to Monica, then let out another pathetic moan as she approached to add another hole to her ears. A diamond stud no less, quite a bit bigger then the previous earrings she wore in her ears. I was handled next as two studs now matching Monica’s were in place. Quite noticeable not to be missed by anyone looking in my direction.

Monica got up from her chair and walked over to me pulling me from my chair and grabbing a hold of my face in her hands. I was kissed passionately, and for quite some time. When she released me I was breathless, disoriented, and almost dizzy. She held on to me than led me to the front of the salon. She paid for our appointments, using my credit card, then added a tip for our tech. Of course, an appointment was made for next week, same time but two hours longer since I had to have extensions added to match Monica's hair length. Out to her car and then she asked me if I was hungry. I told her I had no appetite at all I just wanted to go home and sulk.

" I will drop you off at work then, not eating will help you to lose a little weight, to be able to wear my dresses you need to lose several pounds. The comment about wearing her dresses was not forgotten, but I so wished that I had never heard that comment.

I was dropped off in front of our offices, quickly finding myself alone and now scared shitless. One of the visitors was holding the front door for me, so I swallowed hard and made my way into the offices. I headed for my normal cubicle, but was apprehended and led to the personnel department instead. Set down in front of the manager of that department I was asked to explain my manor of dress for today. I decided not to elaborate on the bet and my future looks because of it. I simply replied that I liked the look and wanted to try it out at work.

He seemed baffled at my statement but decided to proceed with what he had in mind for me. I would no longer be an executive, but relegatred to a P.A. position for one of the up and coming executives. I was to report to my new boss, a Jeremy Hunter on the third floor. I was familair with Jeremy. One of my percived colleagues that I was trying to get past in my striving for a promotion. To now be working for him quite humilating. I decided to try it for a couple of days, the prospect of becoming a housewife for Monica was not something I could get my head around.

I made my way to his offices and settled into the desk outside his office. He appeared a few minutes later took one look at me and then smiled. Nothing was said to me, as he handed me some papers he wanted retyped and a couple of emails he wanted sent company wide. It took me a few minutes to get signed in to the computer system, my user name now pretty girl. Along with my user name, my name was changed. The nameplate on the desk now proclaims the occupant is Ms. Laura Walker, since my male name was Laurence, feminine but still similair. The nameplate was there when I first seated myself at the desk, so all of this was obviously decided before hand.

I am sure several people in the company are getting their jollies off at my predictament. I completed the assigned work, then was handed some more things that had to be done. When break time came I ventured to the break room to retrieve a coke, the girls already there greeted me warmly, asking if I needed any help to let them know. Never in all of my career maneuvers here has anybody greeted me warmily or offered to help in any way.

I made it back to my desk and settled into the last three hours of work time, feeling like I now belonged somehow. I did manange to complete all of my assigned work, even put my desk in order for the next day. On my way out front to meet Monica I realized I actually enjoyed the work, the time went fast and the work was easy and stress free.

Monica was waiting for me, as I got into the car I noticed several bags of clothes in the back seat, Imagining they were probably for me, and none of them remotely masculine in nature. She asked how I made it through the day, not surprised at me being latrerally moved to a P.A. position. I looked at her wondering if she somehow knew in advance of my shift in positions. The fact that I was whisked away to personnel before anybody of authority had a chance to see me might indicate her involvement in some of this.

Once home she had me help her with dinner, with me in charge of making us some salads to eat. I was asked if I was kidded today by anyone, I truthfully said no although there was quite a bit of smirks and giggling in my area.

After dinner with me helping her clean up, she did put her hand on my forehead making sure I was not coming down with anything. I did get properly kissed in thanks for my help, then led off to the bedroom. My hair was placed in a net to help preserve the curls and I was shown how to remove my makeup. I was informed that I had to get up an hour earlier so that I could do my makeup and touch up my hairstyle. I had to apply moisturizer to my face and hands, then do my normal bathroom things regarding my teeth. When I returned from the bathroom I found a nightie laying on my side of the bed, so I decided to put it on, much better to have something else on other than the panties I had worn all day. The nightie did come with a matching pair of panties, silky and clean. I slipped under the covers, not wanting to stay visible in a frilly nightie and panties. It was a wasted effort as she got in next to me, pulled back my covers and groped my male organ and nipples. Things progressed and soon junior was inside her as she rode me like a cowboy, energetic and without any reservations. She collapsed on me with us dozing off with her laying on my body, her hot nipples trying to bore holes in my chest.

Morning came way too early, I was not awake yet as I was sat in front of her vanity as she showed me the steps to put on my makeup. I had to redo parts of it, but was surprised when I saw the feminine face from yesterday. She did have to help with my hair, my hands above my head were useless in getting it to look like it did yesterday.

I was dressed in some of her clothes again with her taking some measurements of my body to see if a dress was a possible option. I ended up with another pair of pants, even more form fitting than yesterday and bright pink in color. I had noticed she had more muted colors in her closet, but alas not for me to wear apparently. Another blouse this one buttoning up the back, with Monica having to do up my buttons. It was in an ivory color looking quite good paired with the pink pants.

Again she would drop me off, then pick me up after work. No ID, credit cards or cash other than a minimal amount for lunch in my purse. A lipstick was placed inside my little purse along with a mascara for makeup repairs during the day. I was still wary when she dropped me off at work, but made my way to my desk, then signed in and started on the pile of papers left for me this morning.

Nothing unusual for the day’s activities, but I was kept busy all day. I decided to skip lunch again, not really hungry and wanted to please Monica by losing some weight. I was a few minutes late getting down to the lobby wanting to finish the last of my work for the day. Monica gave me a stare as I slid into the passenger seat, flipping down the visor so I could check my makeup in the mirror. She kept quiet but I did get a giggle or two when she was at a stoplight. Thinking back such a feminine action and I have only been dressing as female for two days now.

Each day was a repeat of the day before, then it was time for my second salon appointment. Another tech joined the one from last week adding extensions to my hair as soon as my hair was washed and conditioned. I smelled a rat as the extensions were longer than Monica’s present hair length and there had been no mention of her receiving extensions too. I let it slide, the life of a female was not as bad as I first thought. I actually was looking forward to going to work everyday, no stress and being kept constantly busy left little time for worrying about my slow progression to all things female.

It was three weeks later when I could fit in one of her dresses, the smile on my face as I wore it out of the house told anyone how much I liked wearing the dress. It was also my first time in stockings and heels, another thrill that I wanted to experience every day now.

Three months later I was moved to another executive, same PA position but assigned to one of the higher ups. The worked changed a little more report typing and composing documents not just typing what had been written by somebody else. I really got into it asking Monica to delay in picking me up once in a while since I was in the middle of a report and wanted to finish it before leaving. Not an every night occurrence but usually more than once a week. Monica would spend the time shopping for us, with me calling her when I was almost finished.

Now my everyday clothing was mainly dresses, I even wore one on the weekends when I helped Monica clean the house and do laundry. Our love life couldn’t be any better, with her taking the lead we missed very few nights in our bedroom frolics. We kissed often and the kisses were intense and with tongue. No reason necessary, just step up and do it.

After the year was up, I never did revert back to my male persona, quite happy to be a female now, pampered by the salon, respected at work and loved dearly at home. What more could a female want out of life. It started out as a lost bet, but I am so thankful the bet was made in the first place and pleased that I lost it. Definitely a life changing bet.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Deborah: A Makeover To Make A Sale

 Deborah: A Makeover To Make A Sale

As I hung up the phone a huge smile emerged. After months I finally managed an appointment with the owner of the Turnabout Gurl Salons. If I could land their business I would be set for life. Still single, working as many hours as I can to make a go of something in my life. Up to now I haven’t been too successful, managing to make enough to handle expenses but not much more. Luckily, I didn’t have much interest in the opposite gender or I would be hopelessly broke all the time. Oh, I liked them, admired their beauty, but talking with them often left me speechless and nervous. I did manage to converse with my customers, most of them female, but the subject was always on what I sold or on their own business, never anything personal between us.

I am a salesman representing a plethora of companies all supplying products used in beauty salons. From curlers, to makeup, to hair care products. The company I worked for only sold to wholesale suppliers, not to individual salons. Since the Turnabout Gurl Salons had their own beauty supply company, that was who I was aiming for. On earlier attempts to sell to the wholesale entity, I was told I would have to meet with the owner of the chain, she would decide if my product was deemed worthwhile to be carried in the salons. Now that I have an appointment with Francine the owner, hopefully half of my job done.

On the day of the appointment I changed clothes four times, trying to choose the right look to impress her without being ostentatious. I finally decided on a new pair of Dockers and a knit shirt in a matching color. Hair in a ponytail, but kept low on my neck. I often used my hair as a selling point with regards to our line of hair care products, since my use of them regularly kept my hair soft and luxurious. Over the years I let it grow to a length that was decidedly not masculine, a bit lazy but in a way I was proud of its length and look. Overall a casual look, I hoped, but still business like.

I was to meet her in one of her salons, as I entered the salon in question, I was awestruck. I knew the salons were bigger than the usual beauty salon, but seeing it in person made me a believer. This one larger than a lot of retail stores, with a staff to handle that business.

Packed with customers as this ungodly hour, a sea of beautiful faces and hair styles. I had to wait a few minutes for Francine, since she was on the phone. As I looked around the salon, I was surprised at the number of males taking advantage of their services. I had read that it was a huge part of their business, but verification of that fact still made it unreal.

A tall lady approached from an office in the back, introduced herself and led me back to her office. For a salesman to be stricken speechless, a rare occurrence. This lady oozed confidence in both her actions and words.

Back in her office with my cases of samples, I started to tell her about my products. A few words into my spiel, she stopped me, telling me she preferred to see the products being used rather then hear about their merits. I gave her a quizzical look, but did not know how to respond. She asked if I had brought along a model so that she could see the products first hand being applied and used. I shook my head no, fearing I had already lost a possible sale.

“Can you demonstrate your products in use, if I furnish the model.”

Again another shake of my head, I do use the hair care products at home but never the curlers, makeup or other beauty products. She asked what other salons I sold to, with me naming a couple of salons that I sold to their beauty supply company. She quickly walked out of the office, with me sure that I had lost any chance of selling anything to her. She was gone for ten minutes, with me not knowing what to do. Do I pack everything up, getting ready to leave or do I wait till she returns? She returned later with another female, one that I recognized from my one of my other accounts. She used to work for a salon, that bought my products from one of my wholesale customers. I had briefly met her when she was at the customer’s business picking up supplies for the salon she worked for.

She asked me to open my cases and show Maureen what I had in them. I did so as Maureen looked through the cases to see if what she needed was indeed there in sufficient amount to do as Francine wanted. She did have a smirk on her face, as she pulled certain items out and laid them on a tray. Over the next twenty minutes quite a few items were added to the tray, representing most of the lines I carried. She told Francine there was sufficient quantity and in the right colors to do as she requested. I noticed the large amount that she had selected, but didn’t pay attention to what she had selected

Then Francine dropped the bomb on me, a smirk on her face as she did so.

“Since you do not have a model or can show the products in use I have asked Maureen to apply said products to the model of my choosing, that way I can see if they are as good as you say they are. The model is going to be you since you are available and are wanting to sell me said items.”

“Now go with Maureen to her station and she will use each of your products on you, that way I can see if they are as stated. I have closed circuit TV at each station so I can see what is happening while she applies them.”

I just sat there, numb and in shock. Francine walked over to me, picked up my hand and dragged me over to Maureen. She placed my hand in Maureen’s and then pushed me towards the door. Maureen giggled but led me away. A couple of the other employees had came to take the items that Maureen had selected to her station.

I don’t remember being taken to her station but when Maureen started removing my clothes I did become acutely aware of where I was at. I muttered a few words in protest but no one was listening. Suddenly naked along with a panic attack left me incoherent and frightened. I did get a hug, then she slipped a dress like garment over me, covering up my nakedness. I was sat in her chair, and leaned back, as she washed and conditioned my hair using the products from my samples. Still no verbal response from me, my mind still back in Francine’s office. With my eyes closed I tried to get my thoughts together, thinking of the other products in my case that now would be used on me. I let out a low moan, not wanting to go there. I did receive another giggle or two from my attentive hairdresser.

Meanwhile Maureen had used all of my hair care products on my hair, and was rinsing the last conditioner out. She used a comb to run through my hair, then picked up a pair of scissors. She leaned closer to me, telling me she was just going to cut off the split ends, then even up the lengths. I sighed, wondering how I had let myself get talked into this, then realized I never did agree to any of this, it was just assumed by all that I would be enthusiastic about what was going to be done to me. I did notice more hair on the garment covering me than what might have expected from cutting off the split ends. I could not manage to say dress when thinking about the garment I was wearing now. Too late to say anything about the extra hair being cut, that ship already has sailed.

When Maureen came into sight again I closed my eyes tight, in her hands were several of the human hair extensions that we carried, in a lighter shade of blonde. I did manage a brief utterance of something that might sound like words, but came out more like gibberish. I tried to shake my head no, but she was already tying in the first strands of blonde hair.

“You will look so cute, the lighter blonde strands will make your hair look frosted, setting off your face just perfectly.”

I hadn’t even realized that she had dried my hair with a blow dryer after cutting it, a few locks of my own hair touching my neck confirmed that fact. I was definitely in a daze, time meaning nothing to me.

I tried to mentally take an inventory again of the things in my sample case, now suddenly afraid of what I might look like after their use. Back to reality every now and then as the hair falling in my face showed how far she was progressing with the extensions.

It took her over two hours to tie in the hair extensions, the image reflecting in the mirror in front of me decidedly feminine. My hair was sprayed with a setting lotion, then wrapped in curlers. I think I saw the extra strength setting lotion bring used, its dark red label fairly obvious. The fact sheet on this particular setting lotion guaranteeing curls for a month.

After she was done winding my hair on the curlers, she moved to my fingernails, shaping and filing the existing nails to neat ovals, then adding in my longest extensions. Another sigh, each time I think I have lived through another experience, the next thing she went to seemed much worse. I doubt I looked anything like a male now, hair in curlers, and nails now extending past my fingertips by almost an inch. Of course, many coats of our gel polish, baked on under a UV light, making the polish almost permanent. In a shade of peach, with a glittery overcoat making the nails glisten in the light. Now that my nails were handled it was time to move to my makeup.

She used the cleansers and lotions to clean my face and condition it for the application of makeup. I did manage to mutter a desperate no, clearly stated but obviously ignored just as my other attempts to stop this ridiculous escapade. I tried to get out of the salon chair, but Maureen easily pushed me back down, informing me she was not done with me yet. She leaned in close to me, whispering for me to just go along with things, I think you will be pleasantly surprised at your new look and quite happy with Francine’s response to the new you. Besides we are too far along to change things now, even if I stop now you will look like a female no matter what clothes you might put on. Better to finish the look, then stand back and take it all in.

The makeup she had picked out was the semi-permanent type, a stain in reality, once applied soaking into the skin, and lasting for months. Lipstick had to be applied daily, although there was still color on the lips, the added application to make the lips glossy again. The image with makeup on changed the whole game.

She didn’t forget my eyelashes as she laid the container holding the lash extensions on my chest as she started adding them to my own lashes. These were pre-glued, just touching them to one of my own lashes would attach them. After a few minutes with a blow dryer the glue was semi permanent, lasting until the natural lash fell out.

It made all the difference in my appearance, now there would be no doubt of my gender, no matter how I was dressed. I no longer would be considered male by anybody, even ones that knew the male persona would have doubts now, serious doubts.

Back to my hair as the curlers were taken out after a brief stint under a hair dryer, to make sure the setting lotion had indeed dried. With the extensions my hair was so much fuller, the hair style she had cut in framing the face, with curls everywhere.

Maureen surprised me as she slid a blindfold over my eyes, then proceeded to remove the dress she had slid over me at the beginning of my transformation. She grabbed each of my hands and secured them to the arms of the chair, reassuring me that nothing bad is going to happen, just needed me to be cooperative so she could finish the transformation. Two good sized blobs were glued to my chest, the weight of said items telling me that they were the largest breast forms we sold. I sure hope she has not used the super adhesive, but since she had apparently used the hair remover first before she placed the breast forms on my chest, I doubt I would luck out. Then I felt a cool spray on my groin, and I knew my transformation to that of a female most likely for the long term. The matching vagina to the set of boobs now apparently glued to my groin, my male appendage now secured underneath leaving only a slit surrounded by two puffy lips in that region of my body. I still could feel him, I think but was no longer sure.

My blindfold was removed and my hands released from the chair. I was offered a bra and panty set to put on, a most delicious lacy set in a light tan color. I slipped them on quickly, not wanting to be naked with this body on display. The bra cups fitting snugly on my new breasts, a pleasant feeling as they seemed to be caressing the breasts. Maureen did have to hook up my bra, since I had very little experience in that area. I hadn’t even managed to remove one on a female, in my life. That is when Francine showed up, my face instantly getting redder and it was not from using too much blush.

I was hugged, then dragged back to her office. I complained about the lack of clothes, so she found me a dress to put on as we made it back to her office. The dress fit way too tight, accenting my new female figure to the max. I stood before her desk, not sure what to do now. I didn’t feel like a confident salesman, more like a timid female, with no confidence in my looks or actions. She told me that she had called my boss, and worked out a deal with her, for my participation in marketing my beauty products.

“Deborah will tour my salons, showing the techs what your products are capable of and answering any questions that might come up. Maureen will accompany you, your personal beautician to keep you looking feminine and pretty at all times. I will furnish all of your clothing and transportation to each of my salons. Since I have so many salons, a most likely permanent job for you.

“You don’t have to thank me, it is the least I can do for a female that was striving to find a way out of the male facade that you were living under. To prove my point take a look in the mirror and tell me I was wrong in my assumption.” Francine had stepped behind me hugging me from behind, forcing me to look at my image in the mirror.

I did stare at my image, a small smile appearing on my face followed by a larger one once I imagined a life as this female in the mirror was my future. The beauty products I sell making this all possible. Deborah, a pretty young female ready to spread her wings, taking her first steps toward a feminine life.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Hope; Embrace It And Find Love

Hope; Embrace It And Find Love

Some hair brained member of our schools senior class came up with this stupid idea. The Junior-Senior prom was coming up in a few weeks and in our high school there was not enough females for our guys. A most likely reason for that is the girl’s school down the way in the next adjoining town. It is a sought after school, any self-respecting female that could talk her parents into it would strive to be enrolled there. It was a status symbol, those that attended, looked up to and admired by all the rest. The end result left our school severally female deprived.

A member of the senior student council, suggested the idea, a way for all males to have a date and for the students to make a little money for their different clubs and activities. The idea sounded good at first, any sophomore girl that wanted to attend the prom could volunteer for the prom date auction. Then a week before the prom, a male could write in a vote for the female of their choice and their respective bid. If they were the highest bidder, the girl got to go to the prom with her purchaser and the student council will be richer.

The soon-to-be major problem had come from another member of my family attending the school, my idiotic brother. He was mister popular in the senior class, football quarterback, class president, straight A student, and member of almost every club on campus. He actually thought his idea would solve the problem, and the females would love it.

Our area would be considered high middle class to plain ass rich. That was one reason the girls school was so popular. The girls at our school were not dumb though, the idea of some boy buying a date for the prom riled them up quite a bit. They may be rich but resented the implication of submitting to an auction for a chance to go to a prom.

The idea had gotten some interest; a lot of the sophomore girls wanting to go to the prom pretty bad. The static from the other girls had yet to be heard from though. The instigator of this charming idea, my brother, was getting worried, no one signing up yet for his auction. The word was getting out, a lot of covert conversations were entered in to by some of the sophomore girls. Everybody knew they were up to no good, this particular group was quite upset by a female being auctioned off for a date. This was just not right in their opinion. Then, an application appeared for the auction, her name was Hope. They gave her height and weight, her interests, her likes and dislikes, hoping to create some interest.

Days before the write in voting, there were lots of conversations springing up all over campus. Mainly females, but also some of the male nerds were being invited into the plot. In a last minute attempt to salvage his idea, my idiot brother suggested that instead of one male getting the right to escort Hope to the prom, that all the guys bid on her with the total amounts of the bids going into the fund. They would then share Hope, each getting one or two dances with her during the evening. That idea kind of landed with a thud, since no one had seen a picture of Hope yet, in fact no one had heard of a female student named Hope.

The next morning several social media pages magically appeared, each sporting pictures of Hope. The guys flocked to the pages, and soon there was talk of a bidding war for Hope’s hand to the prom. The guy with the largest bid hoping to get a few more perks from her in the deal. I briefly looked at the pictures. She was pretty, also looked quite familiar; I knew I had seen her somewhere, but not sure where or when. I guess because my brother had come up with this insane idea, all talk about the idea and the vote conveniently avoided me. No one was talking to me about anything. I think the situation could be best described as me being suddenly perceived as a social outcast because of him.

Now we get to me, a sophomore, fairly good grades, but not as good as my brother’s. I would be hard pressed to come up with anything I was a member of, or any sport I played. I did play a few games of handball when I was a freshman, before I got beat by a mousy little girl fifteen to zip. That was the last handball I played.

I was five foot nine inches tall, weighed a hundred and forty pounds, and was basically a straight up and down pole. My only feature that I liked was my shoulder length hair. It was blonde like my mother’s, not brunette like my idiotic brother’s. No he man shoulders, in fact, any muscular development could not be found anywhere on my body.

I attended the football games with the other students at school, hoping to see my brother get flattened by some big husky lineman. We might have been brothers, but there was no brotherly connection to each other what so ever. Before this came up, I got along with the female students, we talked a lot and I helped some of them with their homework. In turn, they helped me with subjects I was having trouble with. Then, my big brother stepped in with his brain fart, and I was ostracized by everyone. I could tell he was worried, if his idea failed miserably, his reputation would take a beating. Two days before the vote was to be held his date for the prom dropped him like a hot potato. He panicked big time, but the militant females in the school had already gotten to the other girls. He tried anybody, and everybody, trying to secure another date for the prom. Absolutely no interest from anyone.

Then the principal of the school stepped into the fracas, changing how all of this was set-up. The guys could offer a bid, but the girl would chose who she would go with. Since the bids were for the school’s benefit, she allowed them all to be collected for school use, but the female would have the right to choose her own date. In other words, if the guys entered a bid, their bid would be collected, but no guarantee of a date; it was up to the female who she would choose. A few more girls entered their names, but that turned out to be only three more after the dust settled.

Still no one had ever seen Hope in person, the talk about who she really was occupied everybody’s conversation, both males and females. I knew my brother was worried, his appearance at the prom without a date would seriously mess with his reputation. He even went as far as borrowing some more money from our parents so that he could increase his bid for Hope, his last ditch effort to save face. Mom was dead set against it, she disliked his idea from the start, but didn’t say much because Dad stepped in and tried to sooth things out. The jury is still out on that verdict. I don’t think Dad will escape unscathed either. From the look on Mom’s face, I am quite sure of it.

I had just finished my last class for the day, heading for the bus to get home. I was intercepted by a group of girls and steered into one of the classrooms. There were five of them in total, Jamie being the most outspoken, and apparently the ring leader in this encounter. I was helped into one of the chairs we used for class, and Amy set on my lap to insure I didn’t get away. I rolled my eyes back into my head, dreading the words that would escape from Jamie’s mouth.

“We need your help, as you have seen this idea of your brothers has upset quite a few people. We are not possessions to be bought and sold, no matter what the end result is for. We have come up with a plan and now need the assistance of Hope to complete this exercise.” She was looking me square in the eye, seeing if I had made any connections yet.

I told you I was not that smart, my mind was working on it, but no revelations. Then like a bolt of lightning had hit me, I knew who Hope looked like, me. I struggled to get up, wanting to have nothing to do with any of this. Now I knew why Jamie was on my lap, her being one of the bigger girls, she easily kept me seated at the desk.

“We used one of your pictures and photo shopped it to create Hope. It is our idea to make your brother pay dearly for his poor choice of words and lack of good sense. There will be talk among the guys on what they will be bidding for, the chance to escort Hope to the prom. That should make Tom increase his bid to save face. It is our intention to get every last dime he has in retribution for his callous attitude towards females. He has already been told that no other female will go with him no matter what his bid. Everyone not involved in this fiasco has already turned him down for the prom. His last chance is Hope. We all have kidded him about his inability to get a date, such a poor excuse of a male, a supposed leader in our school and football, now a nobody without a date.

“Our idea is to have you be Hope, dressed to the nines to be his date. A little uncertainty on your part as to whom you will go with, but finally agreeing to be his date. Then after the prom is winding down, you unveil yourself and our mission is accomplished. The total destruction of his sexist personality. The only date he could obtain was his brother dressed as a girl! From now through college he will be labeled for who he truly is, not this fantastic student and sports star.

“We have avoided you to keep him off the track; we think his stupid ideas and attitude, has also ruined your social life. We have talked with your Mom, she likes the idea and will answer any questions you might have. The girls have all joined together and bought you a total transformation at the Salon, a gorgeous prom dress and all associated lingerie, makeup and shoes. Please do this for us, we will be with you every step of the way, to hold your hands and help you fit in. Afterwards, we will see that you get ample rewards for your effort, for doing something no other male would likely do for his friends.

“It is also our part of our plan, to have you attend school for one day as Hope, to whet his appetite. Everybody in the school other than your brother knows about this and will ensure you have a pleasant day. Even the teachers are in on this, including the principal. Then the day of the prom, a pampering at the salon all day, then he will pick you up at the salon. Please do this for us, you are aware of his attitude, he needs to have a little of it knocked out of him. Pleaseeeeeeeeeee.”

I was quiet for a few minutes, Jamie is asking a lot of me. I debated stepping aside, me dressed as a female not the easiest pill to swallow. Finally, my desire to embarrass him won out and I agreed to help them. The girls delivered me home soon thereafter, even coming in with me to talk to my Mom. My brother Tom was at football practice still, so it was just the girls, Mom and me. Mom made sure I understood what would be involved, this was not going to be some put on a dress and show up. I would be totally converted to the female sex; on the outside, I would be 100 % female. The gown they had in mind showed lots of cleavage and was strapless, so creation of that cleavage would be necessary part of my transformation.

Tomorrow after school I would be converted to the female sex for my day at school, then the day of the prom a more detailed conversion and dressed in my prom attire. I would stay at Jamie’s tomorrow night to keep Tom from seeing me, then ride with her to school. Tom, picking me up at the salon, would insure him not connecting me with Hope. As an excuse for my male absence, he will be told that I will be staying at my aunt’s house for a couple of days.

The girls left, Mom and me still talking about what was to happen. “Just go with the flow, you will get to feel what it is like to be a female that might come in handy one day you never know. She had contacted the salon giving them her permission for the changes. I still had to sign for the treatments when I got there, after it all had been explained to me. In bed that night I couldn’t get comfortable. I laid there wide awake, trying to figure out why I had gave in so easily. The fact that I had a crush on Jamie since forever, might have had something to do with my acceptance. I was surprised that Mom had agreed to me joining the other side, in the past, she had discouraged me from dressing as any kind of female around Halloween. So why now the sudden turnaround? Lots of questions, unfortunately no answers.

The next day at school, it just dragged along, but finally the bell for the last period rang and I was escorted off the school grounds, and down to the salon by Jamie and her group. Greeted cordially by a member of the salon staff, then taken to a room at the back of the salon. Two ladies explained all of the things that had been decided on for me, making sure I understood what was involved and how long the changes would last. The breasts and hair were the longest lasting items, three weeks before they could be reduced to a more masculine size and style. I listened with interest, but not as much as I should have. I signed the permission slips and they started on me. Today just some changes to my eyebrows, ear piercing and glued on breast forms. Of course, a feminine hairstyle, and clothes suitable for a high school sophomore. Makeup was to be included, Jamie to help me in the morning before school at her house.

Four hours later I emerged from the salon, even I didn’t recognize the female that walked to Jamie’s car. Nothing like my former self, the hair alone changing my appearance significantly. Dressed in a skirt and blouse, stockings and heels, my image said all girl. A quick trip to the mall for some exposure for the new me, although I just wanted to get somewhere to a bed and lie down. Walking was awkward in the heels, but they made me walk around our mall for an hour taking in all the feminine delights in the store windows before we made it the rest of the way to her home. It was only nine P.M. but I was beat. The stress of the day and the salon had taken its toll on me, maybe not physically tired but totally mentally drained.

I was given a nightie to wear to bed, using the guest bedroom in her house. I was disappointed that I didn’t get to share her bed, but knew that her Mother would frown on that probably. I awoke to a warm body behind me, her arms wrapped around my body pulling me tight to her. That is where her Mother found us the next morning, although nothing was said to me, at least. I got dressed in my new girly school clothes, had a glass of juice and we were off. Jamie did my limited makeup and made sure my hair was adequate. Surprisingly, a brush eased the style back into place.

I didn’t get a chance to see my image in a mirror, not familiar where her mirrors were located in her house. From the looks I was getting at school, I must have looked pretty good. Most of the guys greeted me with open mouths, lust filled eyes and on occasion some drool dripping from their mouth or a low grunt.

Other than that, the day at school was not that bad; everybody treated me as a female getting doors for me, or helping me with a chair. The girls kept me in their conversations, or give me a wink when I was being appraised by another young male. The encounters with Tom were the most rewarding for me. He tried to engage me in conversation several times, I just ignored him, and walked on like he didn’t exist. One of the girls snapped a picture of his face after I walked off, despair and almost in tears was what the picture showed, causing a very good feeling to come over me.

The entering of the bids had been going on all day, the different guys talking about how much they bid for my hand at the prom. I am sure that only made Tom that much more miserable. Finally the last bell rang, and we made our way to the auditorium for the results of the bidding. Then the females involved would have an hour to decide if any bid would be accepted.

The other three females did real well raising over three hundred and fifty dollars for the class funds. The girls had already decided who they would pick, so they told the principal and she made the announcement. Three very happy couples left the auditorium hand in hand. A lot of the other guys who bid on the three coeds left also, leaving only the ones that had placed a bid on me. Still when I counted the number of guys left, I was impressed, thirty one guys had bid on me, raising over a thousand dollars for the class fund. I was given the list and I walked off stage to make my decision. We had decided to take the whole hour to make the decision adding some drama to the event.

It was a foregone conclusion that I would choose Tom if he placed the winning bid. That was almost a certainty, the situation he had been placed in, forcing a winning bid. When I looked at the list again and saw what he bid, a smile came to my face. Of that thousand total, his bid was almost half of it. It was left up to me on how I would inform the group of my decision, I walked back on to the stage approaching the principal. I whispered in her ear my date, and then stood and stared at my admirers. I decided then to change what I would do on prom night. Yeah, I wanted to embarrass my brother, but also wanted to make the rest of my admirers somewhat happy.

I gave Tom a hug and a little squeal, a prequel to my unveiling tomorrow. I rushed from the stage, found Jamie and we headed home. The next day my appointment at the salon started at seven A.M., so some sleep tonight might be a good idea. Last night my lying awake trying to come to terms with my feelings had cost me several hours of rest, I hoped for a swifter entrance into dreamland tonight. Jamie complimented me on my behavior at the school meeting, thrilled at my little impromptu reaction to Tom.

I told her I was going to change the plan for tomorrow, I will still get Tom, but I wanted to give the other guys some reward too. She smiled figuring that I would do that anyway, just something that was in my nature. When we got to her house, I received a passionate kiss, leaving me breathless and breathing hard. I was still standing by the car when she stood in her doorway asking if I was coming in, or was I going to spend the evening outside? I hustled inside with my heels clicking along on the sidewalk. Her mother greeted me as I came inside, giving me a stare, but also giggling some at my actions. My smeared lipstick apparently quite comical.

The evening was subdued, not much to talk about, the coming day’s transformation taking up most of my mental capabilities. I did get to bed early, seven A.M. comes way too early for a new inexperienced female. Brushing my hair, getting dressed and something in my stomach took almost an hour; gawd what will it be like when I am fully transformed. Mom came by to carry me to the salon, her wanting a peek at her new daughter. From the look on her face she was not disappointed.

The rest of the day was a blur, stripped quickly of my clothes, my breast forms removed and a cream spread over my entire body. Even junior got covered in the sweet smelling cream. My nails were worked on as the cream did its job, the long extensions on my fingers painted a deep red the end result. It took them about an hour to get the nails to look that good, gluing on the extensions, a base coat, three coats of polish and a topcoat making them glisten as if they were diamonds. The cream got removed, my body hair with it. I didn’t have that much to start with, a peach like fuzz in some areas, a little longer in the genital area. But no matter now, it was all gone. My beard area got the same treatment, since I had yet to start shaving, they told me now I would not have to in the future.

My eyebrows were next, neatened up they called it, extermination in my words. There couldn’t have been more than twenty hairs left on each brow, the arch now very obvious and feminine. Yesterday they had shaped them a little, today they made them over to these ultra-feminine delights. I received another piercing in my ear, apparently one is not adequate for a young female teenager these days. A long chandelier earring in the bottom hole, a diamond stud in the upper hole. The holes were lasered in, no need to worry about the holes closing up later in life.

Then they started on my body. As I was laid on a table, my feet were placed in stirrups jutting out from the end of the table. Spread wide as if making a wish, then a cool spray and all feeling down there is lost. I am not sure why I would need to have junior hid, I wasn’t planning on taking off my dress, either before or after, the prom. I know a lot of virginity is lost on prom night, but since I was not really a female I definitely had no plans in that regard. Then, as my date is with my brother, Ewwwwww!

One look afterward, and sex might be possible, the perfect slit with two puffy lips surrounding the Promised Land. It sure looked inviting, gawd I am in need of serious therapy even thinking about it. Then my tech had the nerve to tell me that I could have intercourse, just not the well hung studs. I have seen Tom naked and he is anything but well hung, but still I might have to vomit on that thought.

The attention now moved to my chest, where two plastic cups resembling a breast are glued to my chest. Hoses are attached to the cups and a pump is turned on. The sudden suction catches some loose flab pulling it into the cup, the first step toward breasts. I sure hope the size of the cups is not indicative of the finished product. If so my dress may have trouble holding all of the new me inside the confines of the bodice.

To keep my mind off the expansion on my chest, my hair is shampooed and conditioned, then cut into a feminine style. According to Sally, my hairdresser for the day, a layered cut, blended to frame my face and drape over my bare shoulders in the dress. A multitude of curlers were added, then warm heat from a dryer started flowing over my head. At that point I drifted off to slumber land, the warm air and the pulsating suction of the pump, making breasts, slipping me into a restful sleep. An hour later, the dryer was turned off, the curlers were left in till the breast pump had done its job. Two hours more and the pulses stopped, signaling a full cup and my status as a female, a vagina and two perky C cup breasts now proclaiming to the world that this body is 100% female.

They applied a little heat to the cups filled with my breast material, the cups softening and almost fading away. If touched they were still there, but most would think they had touched a real breast. They jiggled as my body moved, much like real breasts might move. Since they looked like a breast, are shaped like one, and were actually my own tissue, I can safely say they are my breasts. Quite likely a long term resident on my chest. I need to think about that later, since makeup was being applied to my face and my curlers were being removed, my mind had all it could handle at this moment. The image before me was even more beautiful that the social media pictures that were showed around.

I was taken to another room and helped to get dressed. I shuddered often as one of the beautiful lingerie pieces were pulled on to my body. Of course, a matched set, all done in black lace. The corset was so beautiful, but once on it gripped my body like it was a vise. The laces as they were tightened shrunk my waist to ridiculous proportions, while accenting my hips and breasts. A gorgeous pair of silk stockings were slipped up my legs, causing all kinds of pleasant sensations to flood my overworked and stressed mind. The tightness of the stockings as they were attached to the corset, just made things worse. The panties maybe the most disturbing of the items, as they caressed my now flat front so tightly.

Then I got a look at my dress. First impressions was where is the rest of it. It indeed was strapless, fitting my new enhanced breasts so tightly. From there it sloped down my torso to mid-thigh, not a wrinkle to be seen as it conformed to my body. In fact, to get the zipper closed on this dream dress, the corset had to be tightened again. I still could breathe, but getting a full breath was impossible. Only short breaths now possible. Said dress did cover my stocking tops, but any movement of my legs exposed some of the lace tops.

Then my feet were slipped into my heels to be worn with the dress. Black patent leather with a five inch stiletto heel. One thin strap to help hold them on my feet and an open toe to show my red polished toes peeking through my stockings. Standing in the heels required some adjustments in my posture, as all of my weight was now on the balls of my feet. I tried a few steps trying to figure how to maneuver in the shoes. I am sure I will be hanging on to any male dance partners since even walking in the shoes took my complete undivided attention.

Pictures of me were taken, presumably for my Mother or other interested parties. First to arrive was Jamie, her squeal as she saw me in the lobby sure to be heard for hundreds of miles. After the prom, she would see to my transportation to her home and my deflowering. I gave her a look, but she ignored it, I guess I do have something to look forward to.

My heels were already making my feet miserable, so I sat on the edge of one of the chairs in the lobby. That is where Tom saw me when he entered. Immediately his mouth was open, his tongue trying to keep any drool from leaking out. I have seen him with a lot of dates, this however seemed to be different, maybe because he was so desperate. He took my hand and we left the salon. Outside he had his car, I knew it would not be a limo, since he had spent so much on the bid, there was no money left for anything else.

Straight to the prom, no side trips, no dinner for his prom date tonight. With the condition of my stomach at the moment that was probably a good idea. When we got to the venue he parked the car and leaned towards me. I put my hand on his chest to keep him a safe distance from me. I decided that he needed to hear the truth, I had something in mind that would insure his compliance and sufficiently deflate his big head.

“Tom you need to know something before we head in. The time for your reckoning is now soon to be realized. Your idiotic idea has backfired on you, too many females have been pissed off and now you have to pay a penance. Now we can do this the easy way or I can make your life hell swiftly and completely. I need you to go to every female at the prom, apologize for your stupid idea, and ask for a dance. Treat each female as a treasure, to be valued and cared for. After the dance ask for a cheek kiss, proof that you have done as I asked. If you get every female to kiss you I will not reveal who I am in front of everyone. We will start with me when we get to the dance floor, a sincere apology, a caring dance and I will kiss you on the cheek. Then on to the next girl.”

“To prove my ability to disgrace you, who knows that you wear boxers to bed every night, Looney Tunes boxers I might add.” I could see the realization sweep over his face, he mouthed ‘Harry’ and I nodded. “Now do as I say and things will be rough but you will live through it, rock the boat and it will be the worst night of your life.”

He apparently got the hint, took my hand and we entered the prom. Past the chaperones at the front and straight to the dance floor. He looked me straight in the eye, apologizing for suggesting that a female would allow herself to be bought, just to be able to attend a prom. He held out his hands to dance and I stepped into his embrace. He held me properly and once the music started we had an enjoyable dance. He asked me to kiss him, and was startled as I kissed him firmly on the lips. No leaning away, no tongue, but it was a nice sweet kiss.

He moved off to the next female, who just happened to be Jamie. I signaled to her to just go along, I think as he would have to do this to every female his lesson would be learned. I watched to make sure he did as I asked, it became apparent he did understand my threat fully. Jamie danced with him and also kissed him on the lips, his lips now sporting more lipstick than most of the girls. After she moved away he moved his hand up to wipe his lips, I shook my head no, he had been waiting to see what my reaction would be. He lowered his hand and made his way to the next female. Word had started to be spread about what he had to do, a few giggles popping up every so often.

The female would smile as he approached, knowing that he was being humiliated in what he had to do. They did get a dance with the biggest jock in school though, whatever that is worth. Once I saw he was doing as I asked, I found one of my suitors and asked him to dance. I held them close, laying my head on their shoulders as we danced to the music. The whole time there was not a fast tune played. All slow romantic numbers where you could hold your partner close and affectionately. Half way through the prom, I had found everybody that had entered a bid on me, a least they got something for their money.

I was watching Tom from afar, he managed to dance with most everybody, a few girls turned him down after the apology, but not many. He wandered over towards me, asked if he could have the next dance. I had to smile his lips were redder than mine, and oh so delectable looking. I relented and put my arms around him. He pulled me tighter, allowing my head to lay on his shoulder. He whispered to me a thank you for being so nice to him, he knew he didn’t deserve it for how he had treated me over the years. He has learned his lesson, Hope had performed her job well, but with compassion and caring.

As he left the prom, he was a much wiser person, having learned a valuable lesson today. I am sure he will handle himself differently in the future in all his relations with people, both males and especially females. Before he left, he told me he was going to take a walk and reflect on this evening, I started to wipe off his lipstick from his mouth, but he refused, a reminder of pleasant things to come was his exact words.

Jamie caught me wrapping her arms tightly around me. The next song played, she held me tightly as we danced to the music. With Tom, I could feel his penis, but with Jamie it was her nipples. They were hard as a rock, trying to poke their way through her gown. Of course, mine were not much better, the fabric of my bodice softly rubbing over the nipples as I moved making it only worse. Our breasts were smashed up against each other’s. A delicious feeling I might add.

That night was quite memorable, an evening never to be forgotten. Harry never did show up, it was just Jamie and Hope. When we first arrived at her house, her Mom helped us both get out of our gowns, while Jamie was in the bathroom her Mom hugged me. Thank you for caring for Jamie and treating her so well. Both of you have my blessing to share your love tonight any way you want to express it. Maybe if I am lucky, you might become a member of our family soon, I for one would welcome you. I am sure Jamie will approach that subject later. I got a kiss on the forehead and she left closing the door behind her.

Jamie came out, walking swiftly towards me, a few minutes later I was without any form of clothing. I was escorted to the bathroom and set on the toilet. Have you ever tried to pee with someone tapping their toe on the floor in front of you? I did manage to get the job done then was whisked back to the bed. A huge nightie that totally enveloped me was slid over my head. As I was trying to straighten it out I was pushed back on to the bed as she followed me, ending up on top of me her legs on either side of my body. She grabbed my hands and raised them above my head and held there as her mouth headed to my nipples. The nightie just barely covering the nipples, her lips quickly pushing the nightie away so she could get my nipple in her mouth. I took in a huge breath as she started sucking on it, her tongue caressing the nipple keeping it hard and erect. This went on for hours, I never did manage anything other than some kisses to her face. Wonderful erotic kisses that left both us panting.

Believe me I am not complaining, it was pure heaven. Sometime in the early morning we both collapsed, our energy total drained. Junior remained under the vagina, but I swore she would wear out my covering as she rubbed hers all over mine, grinding down to be sure I could feel it. Boy I could feel it, no doubt as to what she was doing. I guess you could say that Hope lost her virginity that night, more than once. The next morning we both woke to a smiling face, a smile that never left our faces the entire day.

It was decided that Hope was to be the person to complete high school, the rest of the sophomore year spent getting me a wardrobe and necessary female accessories to make Hope real. Our Mom’s also decided that both Jamie and I would attend the girls’ school next year, a much better place for two females in a loving relationship. Both Jamie and I did date some males, but it was only for one date, with no expectations for anything more to come.

Jamie took real good care of me, seeing that I was attended to as needed, her smile and glow after seeing to my care more than enough to make me happy. We did attend our proms in both our junior and senior years, but chose not to have specific dates, just attended as two females, dancing the night away in the arms of whoever wanted to dance with us.

We graduated high school with honors, with me making straight A’s my senior year. We both got scholarships for college, Jamie deciding to become a nurse. I declined the scholarship, instead deciding to become a cosmetologist at the local vocational school. Jamie is now a pediatric nurse, at one of the local hospitals and is quite happy. Jamie is trying to get pregnant, so some time as a mother is likely in my future. Working with all the young kids, just makes her want one herself even more.

I graduated beauty school with honors, and two years later now own a beauty salon of my own. My salon is part of a national chain, the same as what first transformed me to the female gender. I have made a lot of males happy, just like me they just needed to see what their life as a female would be like, then join the ranks. It is so rewarding watching as they discover their feminine side, then see them reach out to make their vision become real.

Well I need to get home, dinner needs to be prepared and then I need to freshen up, since I have a lot to do tonight to keep Jamie happy and contended. I emerged from the bedroom later, a cute baby doll nightie, thong panties and five inch heels. Of course, fresh lipstick and my hair piled on top of my head to make access to my neck and breasts easier for my love. Yeah it is hard life, but oh so much fun. Now when we have our baby, things will likely get even more exciting.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca

Marissa; Salon Goddess

Marissa; Salon Goddess

I pulled into the mall parking lot, hoping to find a space to park that wasn't miles from the entrance. I often come here to shop, well truth be known, to dream of actually being able to purchase items from these stores. Two years out of college, but still, no full-time job made shopping a luxury that I couldn't afford. The degree that I had in finance looked good on paper but never delivered as advertised.

I was a B student throughout college, participated in school activities, even managed to serve a year as class president, but all of that had no impact on job opportunities. The job choices in finance seemed to disappear as I walked across the stage to receive my diploma. I have found several part-time jobs to keep me in food and pay rent, but that lucrative good job is still not in my future. Unfortunately, these part time jobs tended to be with fast food establishments. That is the reason for today's visit to the mall. Maybe a miracle was in my destiny, at least, I sure hope so.

I had found a basic apartment in the city proper, not the safest area, but still a step above the slums. It is convenient to public transportation and to several areas of fast food establishments, one of which I was employed at when I found the apartment. Shortly after signing the lease for the apartment I got a job at one of the other fast food places, thus ensuring adequate income to keep my head above water, well barely above water.

Yes, even though the apartment was crap they still wanted a six-month lease signed to be able to move in. The main reason for the apartment in this location was I didn't have to rely on a car to get to and from work. The possibility that my car would be there the next day is also one of those unknown facts of life, especially in this neighborhood. Being an older car, and looking like a junker, probably helped in that regard quite a bit.

I needed something better for a job, to break me out of a less that enviable future. I knew that if I kept working the two part time jobs, things would get worse at some time as they always do, and I would be stuck in a less than desirous apartment, with not enough money to pay for it or keep myself fed. I had been looking for other jobs since I graduated college, but after countless interviews, I am still no closer to finding one. Since the regular nine to five jobs in finance or any other associated field are not existent, I decided to try modeling, having worked as a model for a while in college. The mall model search, the most recent opportunity in my quest to find something.

Several of the local modeling agencies had put together a model search, supposedly looking for the next supermodel. It was heavily advertised in all the local media and judging from the number of people in the center court; their advertising dollars were well rewarded. I was aware that most of these searches were only ways to sell modeling classes and professionally done portfolios, but I could dream, couldn’t I.

Still, when things are not going as planned, one must be open to other avenues to get to the planned target. In other words, it won't hurt to take a stab in the dark for a possible chance at success. I made my way to the center court where the search was being conducted. Lots of young women and girls were already there. The model searches were primarily aimed at females, but the newspaper ads also stated a need for male models. Since birth, I have been a member of that group, males not models.

Although I am fairly tall, five foot ten inches, I was very trim and only weighed one hundred thirty pounds. I did not have a typical masculine physique since my shoulders were not wide with my waist tapering in a little before widening to my hips. My facial features were soft, my hands and feet are below average, and my body had very little hair on it. I was considered handsome by most individuals, at least, the few woman who had accepted a date with me had thought so. Handsome these days does not mean you are desirable, just that you are a possibility.

I did have a little prior experience, modeling for a department store, their male college fashions, the first two years of college. That lasted until my height started making me stand out a little more than average. My height became a problem when I became noticeably taller than my female counterparts at least that was their excuse when I was informed that my services were no longer needed. Since that time, however, modeling, in general, has embraced models with more height.

I hoped today my height would help me gain a foothold on a new career. I found the registration desk, signed in and left my portfolio. There were only three other male candidates signed up for the search. Typically in these model searches, the females went first on the schedule, followed up by the male models at the end.

The typical routine was an interview with a three-judge panel, made up of agency people, a walk down the runway, and then if singled out, a session with a photographer. In most cases, that is where a pitch is made to update their portfolio or take a few advanced courses to correct an obvious shortfall.

Setting aside my lack of getting a job, I was a typical male, somewhat interested in sports, although team sports were not my cup of tea. Tennis turned out to be my rising star, I least I thought so until I was embarrassed, no humiliated, by a young upcoming female participant with the last name of Williams.

I had a somewhat normal childhood, two loving parents, a sister, and a grandmother that pitched in quite often as a substitute parent, while my Mom and Dad were busy working, supposedly to obtain the American Dream. My sister, Beth was the typical older sibling, caring for me to a degree but never enough to allow any interaction or sharing of her life. Grandmother had to assume the duties full-time when our parents were killed in a plane crash, during a business trip overseas. In a way, she was a better Mother than our birth Mom since her love and caring for us showed in all of her interactions with us. Our parent’s death affected both of us quite severally, but Beth managed to bounce back quicker. I lost my way for several months, causing my Grandmother to seek psychiatric help for me. I attended several sessions but decided not to pursue any further treatment.

It was enough though to get me moving again, at least, I quit my moping and mood swings. When I finally got involved in my college studies, I resumed a typical male existence. Studying, studying, a little partying, very little tennis, and almost no fraternization with the opposite sex. I liked them, and I was fascinated my them, but not able to keep any kind of dialog going between the female and me. After greeting them, the tongue got tied, and the brain decided that talking with a female was counterproductive to whatever I am supposed to be doing and went to mush.

I watched from the food court as they worked their way through the hundreds of prospective models. Finally about three P.M., they finished with the females and started with the male participants. Surprisingly, all four of us were called up as a group and asked some questions. I noticed for this part of the search that a different person had replaced one of the original judges.

She asked some very pointed questions of the other participants but did not ask me anything but the regular standard questions. We each made our walk down the short stage, a raised runway setup for the search. The other three participants were dismissed after the walk, without any further actions. Also a normal occurrence for some of these model mall searches, the males not as likely to sign up for more photos or lessons. After completing the runway walk, I was asked to accompany the new judge to a makeshift studio set up in one of the empty stores. It had some convention backdrops placed around the room, with some decorative accents of plants and pottery scattered to add to the decor.

She introduced herself to me, a Ms. Cynthia Parker of the Turnabout Gurl Salon. I told her my name was Mark Russell, a college graduate with a degree in finance, trying to find a career in modeling. She asked me what type of modeling I was interested in, and what lengths I would go to achieve this. I told her I am open to most types, not interested in any one specific type of modeling.

As far as my commitment goes, I would do most anything to gain a start in modeling. A degree that is doing nothing for me and two part-time jobs are definitely an incentive to be flexible. She smiled, then told me to step up on the platform, and strike some poses for her. I did as she requested, and she took over a hundred pictures of me. The poses were a little strange for a male model since in the past I had only been posed in a typical standing position, with my hands at my sides.

She had me twisting this way and that, hands on my hips, face turned to the side, even leaning forward a little with my hands up at my breasts. I presumed that she just wanted a wide range of poses to choose from, so I cooperated the best that I could. I figured that at this point, I would be asked to update my portfolio or sign up for some advanced classes, but the pitch never materialized.

“What does the Turnabout Gurl Salon have to do with modeling?” My curiosity getting the best of me. I was informed that they were a full-service salon specializing in helping their customers realize their true potential. They were looking for some models to use in their advertising to show just what the salon could accomplish. They did have a modeling school and agency for commercial customers, but she was only looking for a model to do some advertising with.

With revenues of over a million dollars in the last year, they were now looking to expand, a total of ten more locations this year. Their advertising budget this year was more than three hundred thousand dollars. They wanted new faces, not professional models, but models that maybe their customers could identify within the ads. I couldn’t see where a female customer looking at a male model in an ad would help the salon bring in more business.

I was impressed with the size of their operation but wondered where a male came into the picture. It sounded like most of their business was with female customers. Ms. Cynthia apparently guessed my question, describing some of the customers that have taken advantage of their services.

“Most of the customers are male, although they want to leave the salon as women. They are gender variant individuals who want to express their feminine side. There are also quite a few natural female customers that have discovered that we excel at turning nondescript males into absolutely gorgeous females. Hence, they figure that we can make them look even better.” I still could not see the connection between a male model and these individuals who want more femininity.

I asked how I figured into this scenario. She told me she couldn't divulge that info yet, but after reviewing my pictures, if selected, I would be told everything required of the modeling position. She made sure she had my current contact information, telling me that I would be hearing from her in the next few days. I doubted her sincerity, since several times in the past, I had been told that, but the phone never rang. I made my way out of the mall, pretty sure that I had wasted another afternoon on a wild goose chase.

In the next few days, I kept busy at my part-time jobs, but quite often my mind would return to her words. I couldn't believe that they did that much business with a male clientele wanting to express their femininity. I even looked up their website, got the address of the local salon, so I could go to see for myself if they were as described.

Two bus rides later I was at the location of the salon. Indeed, they were very real, and the salon is quite large, in a well-to-do neighborhood. The decor is lavish, and “oh so” totally feminine. Colors in pink hues, lacy-ruffled drapes, and flowers adorned the salon. By the look of their parking lot, they were very busy. I didn’t have the nerve to go into the salon, though, sure that I would never hear from them again.

Two days later, I received a phone call from Ms. Parker. She wanted to meet me for dinner to discuss a possible modeling contract. “Do not get your hopes up since the contract will depend on your willingness to meet certain criteria.” With a hesitant spring to my step, I started to pick out some clothes for the dinner. At least, this is farther than I had progressed before in my attempt to have a career in modeling or even a job other than part-time. Maybe there is a chance to escape my dismal future.

I met her at the restaurant, a five-star establishment known for its excellent food and lofty prices. By another stroke of luck, the city bus went by the restaurant, allowing me to save some time and expense. I sincerely hoped that Ms. Parker is paying for tonight, knowing that I couldn't afford this level of quality.

We had waited for five minutes before we were seated in a corner booth, which allowed quite a bit of privacy. I ordered a salad from their extensive list and white wine for a drink. I ordered light because I wanted to convey to her that I was not an extravagant person, just out for anything that I could get for free.

Ms. Cynthia smiled, telling me that I was very smart ordering light since high-calorie food could devastate a girl's figure. I was wondering if the reference was to an apparent girlish figure that I would soon be sporting. We talked generalities for a while, with me telling her that I had perused the salon. She asked if I had gone in to look around, with my response being I couldn't afford the obvious elegance of the place. We finished our salads and ordered some tea to sip as we talked.

She wanted to be clear up front. “The modeling job is for a male that is being given beauty treatments to express his feminine side. Other than a few male before pictures you will appear as a female in all of the advertising material.”

“You will be offered the contract if you agree to several conditions of that agreement. Your employment would be as a salaried model for advertising, including personal appearances. The terms of the agreement dictate fifty to sixty hours a week that being the minimum hourly requirement. I would be starting out as a hand model, modeling nail polish for the salon.”

“Each couple of weeks, you will take on a new area of cosmetics or clothing. They are a total service salon being able to take an individual from naked to a ball gown, without leaving the salon.” The clothing surprised me since I thought that they only offered beauty services.

“To minimize expenses, you will be required to maintain the female persona 24/7, and this condition is no doubt the catch to the whole deal. It would be too expensive to have to redo feminine appliances, hair, and makeup several times a week to handle the schedule of appearances and advertising shoots.” I started to respond, but Cynthia asked me to wait until she had made the entire presentation. Then we could discuss any questions I might have.

After so long without a job, it sounded good to be offered a permanent job in modeling, but the 24/7 living as a woman was maybe the deal breaker. Then thinking of the place where I lived and the two part-time jobs that were leading nowhere, I wondered if it was sane to turn down any job offer, not matter what the requirements.

I recovered my thought process as Cynthia made another point in her presentation. “The fact that the salon often made a male into a female it will be necessary for most of the advertising to show the before and after pictures of my transformation. You will have to be aware that any friends or family could become familiar with your new lifestyle. On these two conditions, there would be no negotiating. I would be offered the contract if I agreed to the conditions.”

I again tried to speak up, but Cynthia wanted to finish first. “The contract is for five years with options for five more years. All feminine appliances, makeup, clothing, travel, and beauty services will be furnished as part of the contract. She smiled again, “the salary would be sixty-five thousand dollars a year, with one-quarter percent of the gross income as a bonus.”

“This last year, the bonus would have been three thousand dollars. With more new locations that should double or triple in the upcoming years.” She asked if I might be interested in the offer. I told her I was interested but had lots of queries. I was eager to start the questions, but Cynthia had other ideas. She asked me to follow her to the salon for a glimpse of what I would be doing, telling me that we could talk there more.

She paid the bill with the total amount well over two hundred dollars. The food and wine were excellent, but that was a lot to pay for salad and wine. I turned red as we left the restaurant, how was I going to tell her that I had to take a bus to get here tonight. She saw my face, and I think she figured it out. She took my hand and led me to her car, a BMW sedan that was just gorgeous. As she drove, I apologized for trying to deceive her; my car might not have made the trip, so I decided to go the public transportation route. She just smiled, you have nothing to apologize for.

I followed her into the salon and was surprised to find out that Ms. Cynthia was known to everyone. The receptionist greeted her by name and told her that a private room had been set aside for me. She gave her the room number, and we proceeded to the back. The salon had a central area where services could be performed, but also a number of smaller private rooms along the two side walls.

As we entered the room, there was already a technician seated at a table waiting for us. Cynthia allowed me to sit and then told Gloria what she wanted to be done. I was wide-eyed as all of this was going on. Apparently, Gloria was aware that a manicure was to be done since she had already laid her tools and polishes out on the table. Cynthia told me to relax as Gloria would work on my nails.

She would answer questions afterward, but felt that I needed to see an example of how my new life would be with some of the changes. I was going to say something, but the words never came out. I just sat there with a dumbfounded look on my face. Gloria started filing my nails into nice ovals. Then she surprised me, by roughing up the top of the nail with the file.

After she had finished up with both of my hands, she used stick on forms to frame my natural nail and add support for the extension. On this form and over my existing nail she painted an acrylic substance extending my nails by half an inch. She put my hands into a lighted box and told me to keep them there for ten minutes. When the time was up, she checked my nails, finding the acrylic overlay hard.

Again she filed my nails, after removing the form, until they were perfect ovals. I was fascinated by the look of my nails. In fact, I was still looking at the nails in a trance like state when Gloria asked what color I wanted on them. I stuttered a bit but told her to pick the color. How did I know what color I wanted on my nails, I wasn’t even sure I wanted the nails in the first place? She picked Candy Apple Red, a bright vibrant red, adding three coats to my nails after applying a base coat to start things off.

Then a top coat that was very shiny to seal off the polish. Back under the lights in the box for another twenty minutes, and I was pronounced done. I couldn't keep my eyes from looking at my elegant sculptured nails.

Cynthia made her appearance at that time, telling Gloria that she had another customer in the next room. I thanked Gloria for the beautiful nails as she was leaving. Cynthia set down in the chair that Gloria used, asking me how I liked the nails. I told her they were mesmerizing so much so that I couldn't keep from looking at them.

I was drawn back to a harsh reality when Cynthia told me they were semi-permanent lasting for at least six months. My mouth opened and stayed that way for quite a while. I told her that I just couldn't wear them all the time since I would look ridiculous as a male with feminine nails. She smiled, knowing that I had got the point of her little charade.

I would not be able to shift back and forth between the sexes after I got started. I was at a loss for words, once that realization became embedded in my mind. Here was my big chance to land a good job, but the sacrifice necessary to maintain that was maybe too much to bear. I sat there for several minutes considering my options. Back to my narrow existence, or a new job, but at a price.

Cynthia told me she would take me home, and for me to take the time to decide what I really wanted to do. I was told she would pick me up tomorrow morning in time for breakfast and then back to the salon to discuss my decision. I asked if she had discussed with her bosses the offer and my inability to decide what to do.

She smiled, since it was apparent that my natural hair coloring was blonde, she would help me by telling me the real situation. A couple of minutes later, I learned that Cynthia was the franchise owner, of soon to be six locations. She felt that I would be perfect for the job if I could handle the rest that went with it. She handled most of the advertising for the parent company, including taking the pictures used.

The ads would be seen nationally, and my travels would be to all two hundred seventy-five locations of the Turnabout Gurl Salon. The photo shoots would be done locally, though, in one of Cynthia's salons and the surrounding area.

The trip home was quiet, as she drove with me in deep thought. I was worried about people seeing my nails, elegant and feminine as they were, but no one seemed to notice earlier, as we walked through the shop out to the car. At my apartment Cynthia walked with me to my door, with several neighbors looking at me, but no comments were made. She gave me a kiss on the cheek, telling me that she would be by promptly at nine o'clock in the morning.

I watched as my feminine hands removed my keys from my pocket and opened my door. How such a simple thing as polished sculptured nails, could make such a profound difference in one’s outlook, is staggering.

I changed clothes into an old football jersey, may I add one way too big for me, and got comfortable on the couch to take in a little TV. I set there for several hours but don't remember a thing that I watched. I do remember looking at my nails quite often, though. My mind tried to make some sense of what had happened in the last few hours.

I finally got that carrot that was always just out of reach, but to live 24/7 as a woman; my mind just couldn't put that in perspective. I awoke a couple of hours later, still sitting in front of the now silent TV, and decided to see if my dreams tonight might give me some indication of what I should do. Once my head hit the pillow, I did not remember a thing until the alarm sounded at seven A.M.

I would normally work at one of my part-time jobs today, but with the nails, I decided it might be wiser to skip today's work. I decided that the meeting with Cynthia was more important, so I called in sick to my job, then took a shower and got dressed. I kept it casual since looking like a handsome man was not what Cynthia was after. Every few minutes my eyes would focus on my feminine nails, causing me to sigh.

I was still without a decision on what I would do, and Cynthia was going to be here in just a few minutes. The image in the mirror that faced me, as I checked to make sure I looked alright, was a conundrum of sorts. I was dressed as a young man, but my hands screamed feminine woman. Then there is the money, sixty-five thousand dollars the first year is quite an inducement.

Promptly at nine Cynthia knocked on my door. I opened the door inviting her in. She asked if I had a restful night, knowing that I was probably over-thinking the decision I had to make. I told her truthfully that I didn't remember a thing from last night. Earlier I had wondered if we were going to eat in somewhere, or if was just going to be a drive-thru on the way to the salon. That question was soon to be answered apparently.

I asked her if I was dressed alright for breakfast, her response was that I looked quite good, especially the bright red feminine fingernails. After my face had returned to a more natural color, I grabbed my wallet, and we left. We walked to her car, with several of my neighbors getting a good look at my nails. One young woman, a college student, told me how much she admired my nails.

She even asked me where I had them done. I responded the Turnabout Gurl Salon. She giggled at the name but told me she would get with me later to get their number. I couldn't believe her reaction. Here I was a male, with very feminine nails, and all she wanted was where I had them done. Cynthia giggled too, at the exchange, holding my door for me as we made it to her car. I wasn’t sure last night, but today she drove a Volvo sedan, with a very plush leather interior. The car was quite new, a beautiful silver color with a light tan interior. I thought that her car yesterday was a BMW, so Cynthia obviously has two cars.

We drove to a restaurant a couple of blocks from the mall, and after parking went into the lobby. I was terrified of being recognized with my new adornments. A hostess greeted us and we were shown to a table near the front of the restaurant. As she was handing us the menus, she saw my feminine nails. She held my hand and asked me where I obtained such beautiful nails.

I replied at the Turnabout Gurl Salon, this time, Cynthia handed her a business card. One more time, my face reached a bright red similar to the color of my nails. We ordered with little comment from anyone. I was stared at quite often, and small conversations were started as they looked my way. About half way through the meal, I noticed that I no longer tried to hide my nails. I guess that my mind figured that the world was not going to end, just because I now sported long feminine nails.

Cynthia noticed the change, commenting on the fact that I had finally accepted my fate. The meal was delicious, but I left some because I was full. It was almost like my body was adopting a new diet to preserve a possible female figure.

After she had paid, we headed to the salon, since the traffic at this time of the morning is almost nonexistent, we made good time. Arriving at the salon, I am escorted to her office and offered a seat. She sat behind her desk, staring back at me. I definitely didn't know what to say or what question to ask.

After several minutes of silence, she asked if I had any more questions of her. Looking at my hands perched on my lap, a typically female position, I shook my head no. Since she is apparently not going to start the conversation, I asked her if I handled myself in a manner that was satisfactory to her this morning. She smiled, telling me that as a pretty, young, attractive girl, I would be the object of many people’s attentions.

That usually required a period of adjustment, where you get used to the attention. Most attractive women learn this at a young age so that by the time of high school or college it becomes normal to them. I conveyed to her that I wanted the job very badly, but truthfully I was scared to death of the living as a woman 24/7.

Another smile, but, this time, she told me that any new experience always has some aspect of it that requires getting used to. I swallowed hard, telling her that I would take the job, but hoped that my fear and anxiety would not embarrass her or her company. She assured me that I would be fine, but told me to get prepared for the attention that I now would receive.

She pulled a folder from her desk drawer, taking a contract from it. I glanced over it and signed on the dotted line. She made me a copy and then placed her copy back in the folder. I was next asked if I wanted to slide into this gradually or did I want to immerse myself totally in the role. What was with her, it took me all night to decide to take the offer and now another decision to make. All of this was really upsetting, it was a sound financial move on my part, trading two part-time incomes for a fabulous yearly salary was a no brainer. The fact that it required me to live as a woman though made it a very difficult decision to live with.

She explained that I could gradually appear feminine in small steps, about a week apart, or just bite the bullet and go home to my apartment as an attractive woman tonight. The choice was mine, one might be a little more embarrassing, and the other might be a little harder to adjust to. I tried to put some words together to respond, but my mind was definitely in an overloaded state.

Too much to decide, too much to try and justify. The subject was changed somewhat, as Cynthia asked what relatives would need to be told what I had signed on to do. I replied that my sister was the only one left of my family. Some aunts and uncles, but they really never had anything to do with me.

Then I remembered Grandma; she would be the hardest one to tell. She and I were never very close until my parents died in that plane crash. I thought of her as my Mom since she cared for me far more than my real parents. Maybe she would understand since she seemed to be able to look through you to your soul as she talked with you. During that time, we became true friends, opening up our hearts to each other.

Since she lived a couple of hundred miles from me, we did not get to see each other very often. Communication by phone once a week was observed to keep each other abreast of what was happening in our lives. At seventy-five years old she was quite independent living by herself in a senior’s apartment complex. My sister probably would accept what I intended to do, but Grandma might be a problem.

I had given Cynthia a little of the history of my family, so she was listening to me and apparently thinking of the best way to help me communicate my new circumstances to both of them. A suggestion was made by her to invite Grandma up for a day, maybe a nice lunch, but allow her to see what I would be doing so she could form her own opinions on my new career.

Cynthia would convey to her that the job was real, and my photos would be used to promote the salon. If there was a problem with her, she told me she would ensure that she was returned to her senior’s apartment. It sounded good to me since I had no other ideas on how to break the news to her.

Regarding my sister, Cynthia suggested a dinner at a nice restaurant, with a private booth so that I could show her and try to explain what was going on. In both cases, I was told that any expenses would be picked up by the Salon.

While Cynthia was informing me of her ideas on the possible revelations to my family, I was trying to decide if I wanted to inch into this or just jump in. Both scared the crap out of me, jumping in might waylay some of the fear of what was next, but to start living and acting like a woman tomorrow was equally scary.

I decided to ease into the situation gradually, taking each bitter pill one at a time until I was cured. When I told that to Cynthia, she laughed. I didn't see anything really funny about my statement, and then when she explained it to me, I was able to see the funny parts. My thoughts were all based on the fact that I would loathe and detest any feminine change, but as with my nails, I was constantly looking at them and admiring them as if I desired them from a female perspective.

It was conceivable that the loathe and detest part might be changed to desire and love. I was informed that she would start tomorrow with my before pictures at different locations in the area. My beautiful nails would be removed for these shots since after more of my individual transformations were added in the next few weeks, it would be hard to get any before pictures.

Then starting with my nails, I would receive specific treatments changing every week or so, to achieve the desired conversion to that of a female. When I was not involved in photo sessions, I would be evaluated at the salon to determine what makeup, hairstyle, jewelry, and clothes would be necessary. This time, pictures would be taken as I was subject to each treatment. Again essential for their advertising.

She did, at this time, suggest that it was entirely possible for me to be popular and definitely recognizable because of the advertising. I hadn't thought of that, but could see that it was probably going to happen. What I was going to do about it was another matter, probably nothing considering that was what I was being paid to do.

She suggested for my meetings with my sister and grandmother that a temporary change in my appearance be done so they could see what I would look like after the treatments. The transformation easy to do and undo when the meetings are completed. They would remove my nails this afternoon, with the before pictures starting in the morning.

She asked if I had several changes of fairly fashionable men's clothes that I could use for the photo shoot tomorrow. I told her that I had several to choose from and was asked to bring them with me tomorrow. Next question is what type of transportation I had? I could only tell her that my seven-year-old Toyota is all I had.

She suggested that she send the limousine for me in the morning, because of my need to bring several changes of clothes, but also consider using it for all my trips since I would not have a driver’s license in the correct gender once my treatments started. She thought that the before shots would take two days, and then a quick transformation so that I could handle my sister and Grandmother either Thursday or Friday.

Back at the salon Saturday for my nail treatments and the nail color photos most of next week. I asked her if it truly required a week to get the nail color shots. With one hundred seventy-five colors she thought it would, indeed, require a week.

She asked if it would be alright for her to make the arrangements for my sister and grandmother. I nodded my approval as she called Gloria to get me so my sculptured nails could be removed. Gloria led me back to a private room and soon my fingers were soaking in a bowl of acetone. She told me it would take some time for the nails to come loose.

In the meantime, she is going to give me a pedicure since that would not show when I dressed as a male. As she started on my feet, I am asked if I enjoyed my nails. I started to say no, but at a quick look at Gloria convinced me, to tell the truth. I told her that I loved them, more than she realized, but I suspected that she already knew that. The look on Gloria’s face told me that she had guessed right, I was a big fan of long elegant, feminine nails.

Besides the foot massage, which was to die for, the relaxation from having your feet filed and polished is exquisite. This time, when she finished up, I was sporting a rosy pink polish. My feet were truly pretty, such a change from previous days.

Cynthia caught me as Gloria is finishing the pedicure, asking me if I am comfortable with where I lived. I told her it was alright, the cheap rent, the reason that I lived there, not because I liked the area. She asked if she could get me an equally cheap rent in a better area, would I approve. I told her gladly, but my lease was just signed for six months, with five months remaining. She stated that she could handle that easily, then get me a moving company to perform the actual move.

Cynthia suggested the move since once I was living as a woman, my risk at the present apartment would be substantial. Young females do not live in borderline areas as there is so much that can go wrong. I had never thought of that, but it did make sense, a male does not have the same vulnerability as a female.

With regards to my car, she suggested that I sell the car for whatever I can get for it since driving for me would be limited due to my license. I agreed, and she told me that she knew of someone that deals in old Junkers that might be interested. Since the car was at my apartment on the street, she would have it picked up there if I was agreeable. She did ask what I wanted for it, but I told her I would settle for anything to get rid of it.

The limo was summoned, to take me home, and Cynthia suggested that I call my sister tonight and arrange to pick her up on Thursday night at seven for a nice dinner out. My grandmother is scheduled for Friday at a ten A.M. pickup and lunch at noon. Except for lunch, the meeting would be at the salon so she could see what I would be doing. She also suggested a couple of beauty treatments for my Grandma as a treat.

I agreed as the limo pulled up outside. It was a BMW stretch limo with all the amenities. The driver asked me my address, and we were on our way. She asked if I was enjoying myself; my only reply was that it was too soon. Twenty minutes later we arrived at the apartment. I walked to the door, but several neighbors seemed to be lingering, apparently looking to see my pretty nails again.

The college student did approach me but seemed to be disappointed that my nails were back to male mode. I told her that they had to be taken off for a couple of days so some photos could be taken, but later in the week, they would return. She asked again where I had them done, and thanks to Cynthia I was able to give her a business card. It was pointed out to me at the salon that the business card allowed them a twenty percent discount on a set of sculptured nails or acrylics.

She was thrilled with the info, but I sensed she wanted to ask about why I had feminine nails, the question never surfaced so we went into our apartments. I did find out that she is moving to another apartment, also. One close call was all that she needed to change her living quarters.

That evening, for some reason, my hunger never surfaced like it usually did. I nibbled on some crackers and dip, with some bottled water to wash them down with, satisfying but not healthy.

I decided to face some of my fears and called Grandmother. We traded recent happenings in our lives then I found the courage to tell her about the new job I had gotten. She is delighted with my success and seemed happy when I invited her to lunch and a glimpse of what I would be doing.

I gave her the details of when I would pick her up, and told her to wear something nice since we were going to a fancier restaurant. I received the you should not be spending your money on taking me out for lunch talk. I finally convinced her that I could handle the expenditure and told her I would see her Friday, I did, however, warn her to be open minded about what she would see.

Next was my sister, I knew she would have far more questions than Grandmother, but decided to see if I could get through this without divulging too much. In a way, I am looking forward to seeing her, dressed as a woman. We have always been close as siblings go, but there seemed always to be something missing, at least from my perspective.

Always topics that were evaded because brother and sister did not usually talk about these subjects. Never the close female bonding that seems to exist in a woman to woman discussions. After she had answered, we covered what is new with each other, and then I told her, I got a job as a model. She is ecstatic about the news, wanting to know all the details. I tried to be a little vague, just telling her that it was with a local company, doing photo shoots for their advertising.

She wanted to know who the company was. Finally, I gave up and told her it was the Turnabout Gurl Salon in town. I sensed a hesitation in her voice, but she sounded happy for me. I invited her out to dinner Thursday night, telling her that I would pick her up at seven. I informed her it was a nice restaurant, and we should dress up a little.

Her only remark was she couldn't wait to see what I would be wearing. I tried to throw her off a little by describing one of the outfits I wore when I went out. I wasn't sure she bought the story, and I would have to wait until Thursday to find out. Hopefully, she would be alright with my new job. I always looked up to her and respected her opinion on all things. Since this was my future for the next five years, it is important to me what she thought.

After the phone calls, I did manage to select several nice masculine outfits for the before pictures. I placed them in a suit bag that I had appropriated somewhere in my past. I tried to watch a little TV but ended up going to bed shortly after that. Too soon, my alarm clock decided to puncture my tranquil morning. I showered, dressed and tried to make sure everything I needed for today was with me. Shortly after checking my list twice, the limo pulled up outside.

The driver came to the apartment, with me emerging as she is approaching. She carried my suit bag, and we were on our way. The drive to the salon was quick, with Cynthia waiting by a large cargo van. The limo driver placed my bag inside and then made her way to the driver's seat. Cynthia gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I was led into the van. The inside is quite spacious, with several Captain styled chairs in the middle of the van facing each other.

Along with Cynthia, is another of the salon's employees. Her name is Janice, and she would be doing my makeup today for the before photos. Cynthia made some small talk, but I could tell she was focused on the task today. The first stop is a municipal park, one well known to the locals of the city. Among other things, it had a lake, some hiking trails leading through some heavily wooded areas, and a small amusement area.

The amusements were only some swings; a merry go round, and a large jungle gym with very ornate bars in a maze of shapes and sizes. The merry go round is only functional on the weekends since the city had no funds to operate it through the week.

Cynthia and the driver started setting up her equipment while Janice proceeded to apply my makeup. Her exact words were that Cynthia only wanted enough to mask what little masculinity that I had. The comment hurt me at first, but after careful consideration, it was correct. I am not that masculine, only needing a little makeup or some feminine clothes to change my image totally. I guess I know why I was picked for the modeling job.

The makeup is minimal, a concealer, foundation, and some lip gloss. I still saw the masculine me in the mirror, but barely, as my image had been quickly changed to that of an androgynous, somewhat plain looking individual. While Janice finished, Cynthia had laid out my clothes into three possible outfits. I changed into the first outfit, and I was led to the edge of the lake where a ramp led out into the water.

Cynthia explained how she wanted to do the shoots, each area in the same outfit, with as near as possible the same pose. Then, when we come back in female mode, we will have a before and after, that will be identical except for the transformation. It took us over three hours to complete the shots at the park. In several areas Phyllis, the driver had to erect large umbrellas to channel enough light, to take an adequate picture.

The next stop is the public library. The same type of shots, showing an individual doing normal things like reading a book, glancing at a magazine, were the focus of these shots. Since we were only taking the before pictures, it is hard to visualize the finished advertisement.

Lunch is next chicken salad with iced tea at a local diner for me. A little chit chat, but mainly Cynthia going over the shots as she ate, on her laptop. She seemed pleased with the morning's work, but to me, it was a little overboard on the details that were going into the shots. I couldn't see the expense of different locations since the actual before and after photo seemed to be the crux of the advertisement.

She seemed to read my mind, though as she asked me what I looked for in an advertisement. I told her, first something that catches my eye, then a believable story or point that makes me want to indulge in the service or product, followed up by details that make me want to buy or use the services.

As she explained, the familiar location to the local people conveys that the service or product is not manufactured by some national advertising agency. Also, a customer will feel a lot more comfortable with a model that is not threatening, in an environment that conveys normal in every way. Seeing a male that is low on the macho scale, in a local setting, who is able to transform into this goddess of femininity is what we are after.

I must have looked bewildered because Cynthia asked what part do you disagree with. I had always believed that I was a fairly handsome male, but low on the macho scale is for some reason threatening to me. However, the comment of transforming into a goddess of femininity is too much for even me to comprehend.

She smiled looking at me with concern in her eyes. She reminded me of the conversation, where she told me, that adjusting to my new life would test me to the utmost. She agreed that I am handsome, but not in a macho way. My features are less edgy than most males, and my thinness is far from average for a macho, muscular male.

Those same features would work to my benefit as befits a goddess of femininity. She is giggling as she mouthed those last few words. I am told just to wait until the before pictures are finished, and then as I am transformed for my meetings with my relatives, I would see the truth in her words. I sighed deeply knowing that she might be right, but not sure if I could handle the truth in that case. For one thing, how does a goddess of femininity behave? All of a sudden some thoughts rushed into my overworked mind, I am going to be viewed, judged, and treated like a sexy, attractive female. It took me several minutes to come back to earth, the thoughts still deeply affecting my thinking.

The rest of the afternoon, she took almost five discs of pictures of me in various locales, including a grocery store, a service station, an art museum, and a cleaners. I was puzzled why a cleaners was chosen, but told that women often have items that have to be dry-cleaned, hence a place that they often do business with, a place that is familiar to them.

The art museum was fun as she posed me next to all the portraits of fashionable women and romantic couples. Her glib ad-libs often got me to blush as she told me to pretend to be kissing the guy in the couple portraits. Of course, the resulting photos were fantastic, especially the color on my cheeks.

I wondered after all of these locations where we could go tomorrow that would be any different than today. At the end of today, I found out. I was informed that the limo would pick me up about five P.M. tomorrow because the day’s shots would be all at a night club. She asked me what I had in clothes that might be dressier than normal.

I told her that I possessed a three-piece suit, in a blue pinstripe. She agreed that would do, telling me to wear it when I am picked up. We went back to the salon, where several of her technicians were waiting for me. They measured me everywhere and held endless samples up against me matching the skin on my face and body. At one point, I am naked as they measured every place a measurement could be obtained. Cynthia watched from the side, smiling at me from time to time. She must enjoy humiliating me as I tried to remain positive and professional.

Shortly after that, the limo picked me up, and I was returned home. Even though there was no physical exertion today, I am beaten and totally confused. Fortunately, my mind turned itself off as my head hit the pillow. I found that later when I had to use the bathroom, that I had failed to remove any of my clothes.

Now down to my boxers, I climbed back into my warm bed and was fast asleep. I didn't remove myself from my comfy bed until almost one o'clock. I fixed myself a small sandwich and a cup of tea; after that, I headed to the bathroom. A shower is needed, including washing my hair. That completed I got dressed, to kill some time I browsed the internet looking for male to female photos.

I am utterly amazed at the number of absolutely gorgeous females that I found, although, in some cases, it was hard to be certain. It did occupy my time until the limo arrived. As the driver held the door for me, I slipped into the large interior. It was about a thirty-minute drive to the club, where the photos were to be taken. It is still too early for much activity at the club, but Cynthia used the time to get a lot of shots of me at a table, at the bar, heading to the restroom and numerous other background shots.

Shortly after seven P.M., the club started to get busy, with the band starting at eight P.M. Once the band started she started getting pictures of me dancing. Then she got one of the cocktail waitresses to dance with me for several numbers. Then her assistant returned from the ladies bathroom wearing a very sexy LBD, and we danced both slow and upbeat numbers for several hours. Finally, she seemed to be satisfied with the amount and diversity of the pictures, and we left.

Another stop at the salon to make sure nothing else was needed for my transformation tomorrow. I was told the limo would pick me up promptly at seven A.M., and I would leave the salon to pick up my sister at six thirty that night. All of my treatments would be captured on film for use later. At times, I could close my eyes and still see the flashes go off on the camera.

The salon seemed to be ready for me tomorrow, as everybody said they had everything needed for my makeover. The fact that the salon is still open and doing business at ten-thirty P.M. is astounding. No wonder they did over half a million dollars in revenue last year. Next stop is home, I am not quite as tired as last night, but only lasted for about an hour before I am again in dreamland. I awoke later that night sleeping on the couch, which is where I had been sitting watching TV.

The next morning came too early, but thankfully I had been told just to throw on some clothes, and they would handle everything at the salon. I did manage to grab a sweet roll on my way out to the limo. When I arrived at the salon, I was greeted at the door by several of her technicians. That was Cynthia's name for her beauticians and stylists.

Led to a back room and told to remove all my clothes is the first order of business. I am blushing red when my male equipment decided to make an unscheduled inflated appearance. I am helped onto a table-like fixture and strapped down. I asked about the restraints but was simply told that some people reacted badly to the upcoming treatment, and it is to ensure that neither the technicians nor the client are hurt.

Finally, one of the girls felt sorry for me and got me a cold washcloth to help my wayward appendage to return to a more relaxed state. With one gal working on my legs and another working on my chest and arms, I am waxed as smooth as a baby's bottom. The restraints are a good idea because the pain is definitely noticeable, I caught myself several times trying to swing my arms to the treated area.

When the technician moved between my legs, that is when I was pleading for them to stop. Believe it or not, I am told that it gets easier every time it is done until I will no longer notice the pain. After she had spread the hot wax on my nether regions, the other gal placed a wadded up towel in my mouth and told me to bite down hard on it.

I did as instructed, but it was quite some time until I had some feeling return to that area. Just when I thought I was finished, they released the straps and told me to turn over. No, I screamed, thankfully the towel is still in my mouth, or there would be more hostilities and words thrown around. It wasn't until later that I would admit that the second half of my torture was not as bad as the first. They even waxed between my cheeks, and the cheeks were not the ones on my face, much to my embarrassment.

Who is going to see me naked between the mounds of my bum? After they had finally got all of their jollies by torturing me, they rubbed a sweet smelling cream all over my body. They released the straps, and my front side is treated with the same cream. The cream they used would prevent any hair regrowth for quite some time. The feeling of no hair on my body was quite different. It seemed to make every inch of my skin extremely receptive to any touch or air current.

As the cream is rubbed in over all parts of my body, I am sure that my male member would make some appearance, but the waxing had apparently made enough of an impression that he decided to stay in hiding. Looking in the mirror on the wall, most of the traits that helped to identify me as a male had been erased. The gender of the image staring back at me is almost sexless, closing one eye that image is all female.

Cynthia informed me she had sold my car, handing me a check for twenty-five hundred dollars. I was amazed since I had only paid two thousand dollars for it when I bought it. I asked why so much, Cynthia telling me that a favorite customer of the salons father is the one who deals with used cars, and he is beholding to the salon for all they do for her, so he tries to make sure we get preferential treatment. In fact, both limos were bought from him at quite good prices. He had a collector that is interested in that year and make, so it was easy to sell my car at a premium price.

A different set of gals came into the room. One technician is between my legs, and the other is working on my chest. They cleaned the areas with alcohol and for a minute I thought I was going to be red in the face again when certain parts seemed to twitch. The gal anticipated my reaction and grabbed me strongly and applied a little pressure.

Sure enough, things remained normal. She fitted something around my equipment, but I could not tell what it was. My attention is diverted when Cynthia came into the room. She asked how I am doing, wanting to know if I am having fun yet. That last said with a big smile on her face. I tried to keep back the tears, but my emotions were off the chart. I knew that this is what I signed up for, but it is almost more than I could stand.

While she is holding my hand and comforting me, the gal had attached the appliance to my crotch. She used a liquid around the edges to secure the item to my skin. I am afraid to look, for I had an idea that I was now looking like a female in my lower regions. Cynthia picked up a mirror to show me my new vagina while the other technician is adding a liquid to my chest. Then two silicone blobs are positioned on the marks that she had placed on my chest earlier. She held them for a while, making sure that the glue is set.

Then both my vagina and my new titties were treated with makeup that blended the edges, making it appear to others that all of this is mine. They helped me to set up, the new weight on my chest is definitely noticeable. I am handed a bra and a pair of panties to make myself a little less uncovered. Cynthia helped me with the bra, adjusting the straps to where it felt better, making it much more comfortable.

I stood up to put on the panties and again the movement of my titties is really profound. I did manage to get the panties up finally, thankful for any articles to cover me up. The bra is different, the feelings of having my breasts supported totally unexpected. I had managed to remove some in my earlier days but putting one on and wearing one was not in my repertoire. I couldn’t feel a touch to them, but having them supported in a bra felt good somehow.

The floor length mirror at the end of the table I had been perched on showed an image that is totally not male. Even trying to stabilize my breaths caused my new breasts to quiver like jelly. Thankfully I am helped into a robe, blocking out the feminine image for a little while, and then moved to another room.

This room a dentist type chair instead of a table, but I suspected the torture was to continue. Another tech presented herself, and the chair is leaned back. Apparently, my face is the new area of interest. This time, Barbara is the leader of the attack. She made marks on my eyebrows both as to thickness and length. More of the hot wax followed, and then two quick jerks and my now pencil thin eyebrows were there for all to see.

That seemed to change my face from a little bit male to definitely female. I know that I am now sporting the typical female breasts and a female mound down below, but my new eyebrows seemed to confirm boldly that the body is now female. A nearly clear lipstick is carefully put on my lips after they had been lined with a darker pink color. It tingled for a while then nothing.

I didn't think that was all there was to my makeup but remembered that my sister always puts on her makeup after she had done everything else. Barbara noted my puzzlement, telling me that the lipstick is a lip plumping formula, and soon I would have the kissable lips of a female. That last said with a beautiful smile on her face. Just what I wanted, a pair of lips that screamed female, puffy enough to make them quite noticeable on my face.

I guess it was just a part of their job, but all of Cynthia's employees were so kind and considerate. Often it seemed that they could read my mind. I was treated like I was the only customer of the salon. Barbara told me not to mess up my lipstick, and she would see me later for the rest of my makeup.

Gloria is back to do my nails next, pushing her cart of nail delights ahead of her. Today’s treatment would entail me receiving an acrylic set of fingernails. With practiced ease, she worked on my cuticles, smoothed any rough edges and then matched acrylic extensions to each of my fingers. Then with a tube of superglue, my acrylic extensions are glued to my nails.

Under the ultraviolet light for several minutes, then a base coat of polish. Next, is the color, today's choice is a pinkish red with a name of Early Sunrise. Three coats of that polish followed with a top coat that sealed my fate for a few days. Of course, my toes were color coordinated too in the same color polish. Gloria is smiling as she headed off to her next customer, reminding me to be careful with the extra length. These nails are at least three-quarters of an inch past my normal male nails.

I knew that I would not be doing anything that required any dexterity since my nails would reach any object long before I managed to arrive myself. Yes, they were that long, but I will have to admit they are quite beautiful, my eyes managing to focus on these, and not much more. Like when I first got my feminine nails a couple of days ago they seemed to draw my undivided attention.

Cynthia decided at that moment the need to partake of food, and I am invited to lunch. I looked at my body with all the female adornments, but only in lingerie and a robe. A smile spread across her face, but no words were spoken as she dragged me to a double set of doors on the other side of the salon.

She almost pushed me through the doors, with me trying to cover myself some, only to find that a small cafe occupied the space. I was led to a table, managing to get somehow comfortable in the chair, no thanks to my new added equipment. Sitting in the rather rigid dining room chair, I am aware of the lack of something between my legs, an uneasy feeling but also enticing in a way, definitely something I am not used to. Several times my hand wandered down there to check out the changes.

A waitress came over to the table to get our orders. I knew what the expected meal should consist of, ordering the taco salad and iced tea before anyone informed that is my only choice. Cynthia applauded my response, saying I am catching on fast to my new identity. Lunch is pleasant, the chit chat about my morning transformations and my opinion thereof. I relaxed a little more since no one really laughed at me, to them it is just a part of my job, a part that I seemed to be more than qualified for.

After some of the other technicians had returned to their duties, Cynthia asked how I am holding up. I told her that it is still weird, but I am managing to handle things better. She asked me what type of relationship I had with my sister. I recounted many of the stories about our childhood, then telling her of our relationship after my parents died.

Our camaraderie moved to a much higher level during this time. I conveyed how we would talk for hours about many subjects, sharing our personal thoughts and desires with each other. We were still close, but my job search had put a bit of a damper on our relationship since a lot of my time was spent trying to find employment.

I thought that we could connect a little more since I now had a job. I just hoped that Beth could deal with my conversion to the dark side. Cynthia's ears perked up with the dark side remark. I had to explain to her that my kidding of my sister from early in my high school years always revolved around the fact that to be a female was always dark since no one ever understood women in any of their thoughts or deeds.

Now several years later I was now of dark origins, to what degree, to be determined. I got a giggle from Ms. Parker, as she welcomed me to the dark side. Cynthia had a meeting to go to but informed me that my next scheduled treatment was in room 4A. I headed there after spending several minutes trying to get the robe to cover more than it was apparently able to do.

Walking into the room I was greeted by a regal looking lady, she was a stylist with the salon and would be working on my hair today. A lot of her regal look was because of her height. She told me that she was six foot two inches without heels, but in truth, her regalness is because of how she acted. Her confidence and actions more than fit the definition of a monarch. Her name is Patricia, apparently my hair stylist for the foreseeable future. First, she washed, then conditioned my hair, a simple task, but it left me feeling quite privileged after the fact.

Then a comb through my hair to see what she had to work with, smiling when she did so. A couple of times, she referenced her notes, finding out what Cynthia desired in regards to my hair style. A pasty liquid, with a very odorous smell, was applied to my hair, and then the hair is wrapped in plastic so I could sit under a dryer for about thirty minutes.

After the hair had been processed, it was rinsed again, then blown dry with a blow dryer. I was able to see my hair as it dried, noticing that the color was now several shades lighter. It was not all one color, but a blend of blondish tones from platinum to a medium blonde. After getting the new blondish hair dry, she started cutting it, concentrating mainly on the ends of my hair.

She told me that I had a bad case of split ends, whatever that was and that the cutting and conditioner that was used would correct the situation. After ten minutes of cutting she is happy with my cut, then taking a few strands of my hair winding them around a curler after spraying them with setting gel. She dried the curl with the blow dryer, then unwound it to see if my hair would retain a curl.

The curl was tight, bouncing to and fro as she freed it from the curler. Her only comment was it never fails, males have hair that can be curled and styled, but women's hair is just straight and lifeless. Soon my whole head is covered in curlers of different sizes and colors. Back under the dryer till I felt that I had been cooked to perfection. After she had checked my hair for dryness, she started removing my curlers.

As she removed each curler, the hair would spring back as if it was still in the curler. Once that task was finished, she started combing the curls out. They would relax some leaving my hair curly, but not as tight as before. The lightening of my hair made me look much less masculine, as the multi-tone color softened my features and framed my face with color.

I guess that a lot of the difference between male and female hairstyles other than the length is the color. Males usually have one color hair that is lifeless and boring. She worked on my hair for over an hour, getting it just right. She told me later; she would add extensions and cut my hair into the proper style for my face. This was just for my family, and to get me used to having curls and color. The look is quite feminine, quite a departure from my greasy one color ponytail that is my standard hairstyle.

When she is finished, I got the mist of hairspray that ensured that my hairstyle would hold up for all to see. Next, I am moved to another room for my makeup. Barbara started on my makeup keeping me informed of what and why she is doing each step. I am not aware of all the names but informed that concealer, foundation, rouge, eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadow, lip liner, lipstick, and lip gloss were used.

I had been watching in the mirror, but still, could not believe my eyes. Gone was the masculine persona of Mark, totally gone never to reappear. Since Mark was never very masculine, you can imagine with the work being done to me the impact that resulted. I stared in the mirror for quite a few moments trying to see where he had gone. There was not a trace of any masculine person left. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

About that time Cynthia made an appearance, she looked me over, but also watched me looking at my image in the mirror. Her comment that Mark seems to have disappeared finally brought me back to the present. I looked up at her with a questioning gaze, with her telling me that I now should know what a goddess of femininity looks like.

After I had calmed down a little, swallowing several times trying to get that lump that is stuck in my throat to move, I again looked at my image in the mirror; my complexion is flawless, perfect in every way. I tried to remember what my sister looked like when we were in college. She also looked goddess-like when she really dressed up, but never this good.

Hair and makeup are completed; I thought that was all that they could do to me. I did look like a woman, my breasts, vagina, nails, and hair all confirming that I was indeed a member of the female sex. Wrong again, jewelry had not been introduced into the mix yet, and I would soon be sporting a full array of women’s jewelry.

It started out with earrings, and since I didn’t have pierced ears, that was handled with great enthusiasm. The piercing gun got quite a workout, but I passed when they asked if I wanted my nipples pierced also. Three earrings in each ear, a hoop, and two studs converted my ears into a feminine delight. The studs had sapphire stones against a silver finding while the hoop had miniature sapphire stones all along the curve of the hoop. Incidentally, the hoops are two inches in diameter and swung to and fro caressing my neck from time to time.

Next is a matching necklace, with a silver pendant that touched my cleavage as it situated itself between my breasts. The pendant had a grouping of sapphire stones in a heart shape accented by a silver filigree design around the stones. Of course, a matching bracelet and anklet are necessary to complete the picture.

Next, is the clothes from lingerie to a gorgeous dress. Even though I had a pair of panties and a bra on they insisted on a corset as the proper undergarment for the dress. The corset is absolutely beautiful, a lace and satin concoction in ecru that screamed femininity. It was placed around my body, and the front busk is fastened up.

Then it is positioned on my torso, as my bra is released and removed. The cups of the corset are nestled underneath my mammaries and after a few more adjustments the laces are tightened some. At one point, I was asked to grab a hold of two rings hanging from the ceiling. As I did that, I felt the corset being tightened around my body taking up the slack as I stretched to grab a hold of the rings.

When I tried to release the rings, my body is trying to return to its previous position, but that is now impossible since the corset had remolded my torso. I quickly reached back for the rings since it is much more comfortable that way. Meanwhile, the corset is tightened some more causing, even more, distress. The tightening went on for about thirty minutes before she finally relented. I must admit that young lady had some real talent, since she took four inches off my waist, never breaking into a sweat as she did so.

She suggested that when I let go of the rings that I keep my arms above my head and then slowly lower them over a fifteen to twenty-minute period. Breathing is hard with the corset on, the gal lacing me in suggested that I take shallow breaths and more often. This did help and after the twenty-minute period, I was able to lower my arms and breathe in a normal manner, normal that is for a person wearing an extreme corset. The breaths are small and more frequent since there is no way that my lungs could intake or expel much with the garment firmly attached to my body.

Next, is my dress, a strapless LBD in a spandex type of material. It fit me like a second skin, showing every curve and nuance of my feminine body. I wondered if the dress would be too much for my sister, but I guess a truly representative image of what I would be doing is more important. The dress zipped up the back and as I am being zipped up the dress molded itself to my body. The heels next, a five-inch stiletto pump with a bow on the vamp.

It did take me several minutes to master the heels, and mastering the heels is not technically correct. I was able to teeter along in an upright manner without wobbling too much, although the stride is greatly shortened, and I could feel my butt wiggling as I made my way across the room. I wondered about the height of the heels but told just to take shorter steps, and to allow my hips to move to fit the gait. After twenty minutes of this, I am able to move in a fairly feminine manner, although I would not be running any races with this footwear.

Cynthia came over to check me out, smiling as she took in my appearance. She asked me how I liked my new image, but I just stuttered a response. This is all so new, and the image I saw in the mirrors is so unlike me. She had me sit in a nearby chair, actually, only the edge of my butt is on the chair since the corset made bending not impossible, but very difficult. By the time I got to the restaurant, I would be able to sit normally, the information told to me, but I had my doubts.

She returned to her previous question, trying to get me to talk to her about my thoughts. I stammered out to her that I loved how I looked, but at the same time that my looks scared me to death. It is like I have been transported into another realm, totally at odds with what and how to do anything. She grabbed one of my hands, telling me that if I took everything slowly, that most of my problems would solve themselves.

You are a female now, and if I acted as one, there would be people that would help and comfort me. To let myself be that feminine goddess of beauty would open doors and windows of opportunity for the rest of my life. Tonight she asked me to unwind, enjoy my sister’s company, talk a while and let what comes naturally happen. Then tomorrow she said we could talk some more about the feminine experience.

Now, the part that I dreaded, meeting my sister; the limo arrived a few minutes later, and I am hustled to the awaiting car. I did receive a hug from Cynthia and good luck before I am eased into the limo. She handed me a new cell phone, actually an I-Phone to be exact and told that her private number is already programmed into the phone. The number to summon the limo is there as well if I needed it.

The drive to my sister’s apartment is nerve wracking as I ran various scenarios through my mind. Luckily before I could make many conclusions we arrived. The driver opened my door and helped me out. I went through the lobby and pressed the button for the elevator. My heels click clacking on the tile floor. Up to the fifth floor and then down the hall to her apartment, I was almost sick as I reached her door. I am not aware of me teetering in my heels since my mind is riveted on how my sister would react to my new appearance.

I took a deep breath and then pushed the doorbell. It had seemed like forever before she opened the door, but I am sure that it was less than a minute. She didn’t look surprised as she very carefully scanned my new image. She took a step forward, then embraced me as a sister. Hugs and cheek kisses are abundant, and she whispered in my ear that she is pleased to meet the new me.

I am stunned, for the last hour I had been worried sick, for nothing. I am dragged into her living room, and she appraised me again. She even poked me in a couple of places as she strived to see how much was me and how much is padding. I giggled at her efforts, telling her that if she damaged the merchandise she would have to pay.

I told her I had a limo waiting, as her eyes went up a notch or two. She grabbed her purse, and we headed down to the lobby. My driver opened the lobby door for us, then the door to the limo as we seated ourselves for the ride to the restaurant. I wasn’t sure which one we would be dining out since Cynthia had made the reservations. It turned out to be the most expensive Japanese Steak House in town. The restaurant featured the chefs who cooked at the table, exhibiting their skills with knives and pans.

We are immediately escorted in by the hostess, past several people waiting to be seated. I didn’t even have to tell her who I was; I just hoped that we got the correct table. We were shown to a private room, and wine was served for us. All of this without me opening my mouth. Beth is impressed and leaned over to ask if this is affordable. I told her my new employer is picking up the tab.

We had talked for a couple of minutes before the chef made his appearance, asking us what items from the table we would like to try. The center of the table had a large tray holding bowls of rice, fish, meat, shrimp, vegetables, about fifteen different choices. The chef took our choices and placed them on the grill, and then with much fanfare he chopped, diced, flipped them through the air, and then served them on our plates.

Beth loved the show, but I was still worried about what she would say about my new job. The food was excellent, the wine even better and with our plates only half eaten we paused before Beth asked if I am happy. I stared a little at her, what an unusual question to ask. I told her that I was pleased to get finally a job that didn’t involve burgers or tacos, but yes I am happy.

She giggled a little but set closer so she wouldn’t have to talk as loud. She was not interested if I am happy on the surface; she wanted to know if down deep that I am pleased with my life and the way it is headed. I nodded my head, then told her that in our past relationship, there seemed to be something missing between us. Today and now, I feel that is not the case. I am not sure what that something is but I feel closer and more tuned to you than ever.

I started to tell her about the interview, but Beth interrupted me asking if I had other plans for tonight. I told her, no, and she suggested that we go back to her apartment to relax and talk. It sounded good to me, so I took out my cell phone and called the driver to pick us up. Beth smiled, telling me that she would now have to contend with a spoiled little sister. I asked the waitress for the check but am told that all of that is handled already.

The drive back to her apartment was not that long, noting that a lack of worry made the time pass much faster. We made it up to her apartment, then to her living room. I sat down and immediately went to remove my heels. While Sis is blatantly laughing, her comment that I am apparently aware of the disadvantages of being female. I nodded my head and rubbed my feet to ease the discomfort.

After Sis had asked me to stay the night, she led me to her bedroom and dug in her lingerie chest for a nightie. She pulled this small almost non-existent piece of material out and handed it to me. I gave her a dirty look but decided to go along with the joke. I told her I would wear it if she would wear one just as brief. She smiled and dug again for another bit of fabric. I undressed, laying my clothes on her bed. I turned to see if she is doing the same, and her eyes are riveted to my crotch.

She walked over and asked if I still had my male equipment, rubbing her finger over my new vagina. I never knew this side of Beth, aggressive and quite the daring young female. She took advantage of our closeness and reached behind my back to loosen my corset. With the corset looser, she cupped my breasts and squeezed a little. I knew that I would have no feeling, but I moaned as if I could feel it. She dropped her hands immediately as if she was hit with a jolt of electricity.

I took advantage of her inaction and slipped the nightie over my breasts, then pulled the G-string panty up my legs and into place. She stared at me then suggested that we needed to talk a lot about what I had apparently done to my body. I am doing everything I can not to break out in laughter, but the laughter won, and I almost wet myself with laughter and giggles.

Beth couldn’t understand my emotions and is getting upset. Partly because I am not taking this seriously and part because I am still laughing at her. I suggested she slip on her nightie and we go out the living room and get comfortable. She stopped at the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. She downed it in one gulp, then refilled it. I asked her where mine was, and she handed me the bottle and glass.

She set down on the couch and looking straight into my eyes wanted to know everything from the start and do not leave anything out. She emphasized everything then poked me when I didn’t start right away. I made my way through all of the happenings of the last week from the mall model search to the dinner tonight. She listened through all of this without comment, in fact when I quit with the story she remained silent. I looked at her, wondering what she was thinking, still not knowing what she thought of my new job or my radical change in appearance.

She confessed she didn’t know what to think of my new life; her first thought is her jealousy of me. Here before her sets her brother, a better-looking female than she is, with a better job, and probably soon to be spoiled rotten by her employer. What divine power could allow something like this to happen? She laughed and giggled, but I suspected some of that last statement is the truth.

“After all, I have gone through to find a decent job I am not going to trade with her, but I could get her into the salon at greatly reduced rates.” That brought a smile to her face, but she wondered what she would have to do to get her discounts. I simply responded that all she had to do is be my sister and accept me as I am now. She fiercely hugged me, almost squeezing the breath out of me, not hard to do with the corset still firmly attached to my body. I did mention that she has loosened it, but had not removed it.

During all of this, I noticed her eyes constantly scanning my body to see what other changes had been performed on me. At one point in the conversation, she asked what name I was going to use since Mark didn’t seem to fit me as well as it used to. Cynthia and I had decided on Marissa, once my female image materialized on the ads.

We talked for quite some time, with her trying to access my feelings about all of this. I tried to tell her that I am still unsure of them, but for a change, everything felt right somehow. I enjoy dressing as a female, the clothes are so scrumptious, and the attention I get as a female is great, maybe not if romance and sex are included, but having doors opened, being talked to with interest is a definite advantage. Maybe after a while, I will not be so excited about the changes, but as of now, I welcome the difference.

The job looks like it will be a dream come true, I get to travel a little, do a lot of things I never dreamed of doing. There is a future with the job, unlike any of my previous employment, and I want to see if I can overcome some of the hurdles that have always held me back. For once someone has faith in me that I can perform basic skills and advance to higher levels.

We talked until the wee hours of the morning, but I finally had to call a halt to the conversation, knowing that I had to meet Cynthia early in the morning and that Mom was due for lunch. I asked her if she thought Mom would approve, but Beth reserved comment. I did notice a sly little smile that peaked out before she hugged me and we wandered off to bed.

I slept in her guest room, out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow. I did set the alarm, knowing that I couldn’t be late today. I dressed in the same clothes from last night, the corset a lot more comfortable since I couldn’t get it off last night. Sis loosening it some also helped. I guess my body is making the adjustments it needed to since it figured it was going to be stuck in it for some time. Sis was still in bed, so I gave her a kiss and told her I would see her later. I called the limo, and she must have been waiting since she was there almost immediately. The ride to the salon is uneventful, she helped me out of the limo and got the door to the salon for me. I entered, and reception called Cynthia to advise her of my arrival. Several of the girls came up to get me, and soon I am naked and being fussed over. Naked that is except for the corset.

That is the first thing they did, my corset was tightened again, I think this time they exceeded the tightness by quite a bit. After I am checked for anything that might need repair, I am dressed again, this time, a burgundy business suit with a pencil skirt. Needless to say that stockings, along with a slip had been added to my body before I slid into the skirt. I hoped for a suit with pants, but no such luck.

Taken to one of the stations my hair is worked on, fluffed up with the help of a curling iron and then sprayed with hairspray. I heard a little commotion from the front desk, as Cynthia brought my grandmother back to my station. I am immediately hugged, her one and only comment is you look absolutely gorgeous. My mouth is doing the guppy imitation, as Cynthia seats her in the adjoining chair. They fuss over her, redoing her makeup, a more youthful appearance the result. They change her hairstyle a little, a few more curls than before and then Cynthia announces that the limo is here.

They had finished my makeup; my purse is handed to me, and we leave. The ride to the restaurant is quiet, grandma with my hand in hers checking me out. No questions, just admiring the new look that I presented. We arrive and are quickly seated in a quiet corner of the restaurant. Another unexpected question, are you happy? Why did she and Sis want to know if I was happy, surely they could see over the years that my life has been satisfactory for me?

“Yes, for once I am happy with what life has dished up for me, I am not used to dressing up as a female, but everything that I have experienced so far is wonderful. I can’t wait for the next day, to see what new things might be experienced.” After saying that I did doubt the sincerity of some of them. So far the things done to me are not a problem, but I haven’t taken into consideration that I will be living as a female for quite some time. No reverting to pants, short haircut, or a male body for the duration of the agreement.

Then add in the exposure to the public, and everyone knowing of my change and maybe all is not as good as I make it sound. Cynthia had warned me about this, but I really didn’t realize how deep the involvement would be.

The conversation revolved around what I would be doing when she heard that I would be in ads, both my male and female photos she seemed excited. I asked her why surely some of your friends will be critical of my life. Well, she wasn’t going to handle it that way, as soon as the first ad came out, she intended to go to her friends and show them the pictures, telling them that her son is going to be a super model, like Andre Pejic. I chuckled at that; it might work; she is obviously proud of me and for that I am thankful.

We talked as we ate, about little nothings like two females might. Like last night, I connected with her more than in the past. The conversation is not stilted, there are no pauses as one tries to figure out what to say, it just flowed along. I found out that she always wanted to be a model when she was a teenager, but family and finances kept her from ever trying her hand at it. That something had never been brought up in conversation before to either Beth or me.

We finished the meal and then rode back to the salon in the limo. I asked if she would like any more beauty treatments today. She smiled but declined. Then I had an idea, I asked her if I scheduled a spa day, would she come and enjoy it with Beth and me. You could see the tears in the corner of her eyes; I just smiled then told her I would set it up, then send the limo for her. She was quiet, I don’t think she trusted herself to say anything, so I leaned over to her and gave her a hug and kiss, whispering in her ear that I loved her. Since the hug lasted so long, I think she liked it.

The limo left to return her to her home as I walked in the door to the salon. I proceeded to Cynthia’s office to thank her for her help with my family. She didn’t have to do this for me; it was not part of the contract for her to make sure my family is alright with my new job. I knocked on the partially open door, and she called me in. I found a seat to the side of her desk and slid my bottom into it as gracefully as I could muster. She complimented me on my grace, then asked how everything went with my sister and Grandmother.

I relayed the events and the words expressed, and she smiled. She told me that both had confided in her that my changes were for the better and wanted to make sure that I never received a chance to revert to the male image. She told me that my sister called this morning, and my grandmother talked to her after her arrival before she was brought back to me. Sis barely waited till I left before she had the telephone lines busy, telling Grandmother the news. Now I know why Grandmother was not that surprised.

Cynthia confided in me that they used a few photos of me in a general ad the salons run, just snippets, no explanations, it was a male picture, then followed by a female picture, both in succession. All of the salons have had phone calls asking for more info; mainly they wanted to know if the two pictures are the same person. All the responses were yes, it is the same person, the new spokesperson for the chain of salons.

So guess who gets a change of schedule, Francine wants a series of new ads featuring you within the next two weeks. Tomorrow you start earning your keep. I mentioned about the nail polish ads; she just smiled, that and a whole lot more. The first ads are going to be set in the salon, as you experience each procedure to transform your body from male to female. The limo will pick you up tomorrow at seven A.M., and you will be in the salon till five P.M.

The stylists are set up for you, as soon as you get here, they will essentially do every procedure again for the camera. We will also get some general salon shots as you spend the day. During the afternoon, we will squeeze in some of the nail polish shots. You will have a different set of nails, for the nail polish shots we want the glamor of the nails and the color to stand out. They will be applying a new nail that we have been working on, extending an inch and a quarter past your fingertips. I wouldn’t plan on doing any typing for a few days with those new extensions.

I gulped when I heard the length of the new nails, but I guess for nail color photos they do serve a purpose. It would be more than typing I am afraid; that will be affected. The new ad should start to be run by next weekend, and we will be giving your name and before and after picture. If there is anybody else you need to inform before this becomes public knowledge, the next few days seem to be the time to do so. I told her that we have already covered the ones close to me, anyone else just a casual friend or acquaintance.

I got a hug then sent to the limo. The driver pulled out but headed in a direction that I am unfamiliar with. She pulled up to a covered entrance and got out, to get my door. As she helped me out, I am given a set of keys to my new apartment and told what unit it is. I used the swipe card to enter the lobby and followed her directions down a hall to 6C. I used the key and entered the unit. Much nicer than my old one, the security a must have according to Cynthia.

I thought about my presentation now, skirts and blouses, breasts and a vagina, nails and makeup, certainly different than before, definitely more at risk. I tried to picture myself, coming back from a shoot, skirt and heels and facing someone menacing. The shivers that spread up and down my back, a wake-up call to my vulnerability now. The movers had done a thorough job, my clothes hung in the closet, my bed made, and even my bathroom items put neatly on the counter. The only thing they didn’t put up was my I.D. and personal papers. Looking at the male picture on the I.D. there is no similarity to the image in my mirror now.

I found a note on the kitchen counter, apparently from Cynthia. Her opening words were a surprise, then followed by information on the apartment. It is a female singles only complex, and yes you are a single female now. Your sister has been given a key card for the lobby door, but she doesn’t have a key to the apartment. Everything is being taken care of by the salon, some food had been put in the refrigerator, but subsequent items are your responsibility. I did hint to your sister that she might be of assistance tonight since it is a new apartment and you are by yourself.

I think you will find that you are more emotional, vulnerable, and in need of companionship now than when you were portraying a male. Hope you enjoy, if you need anything, please call me anytime. Then right on cue, my doorbell rings. I walk over to the door and look through the peephole. Sis is there with a big grin on her face. I open the door and am attacked by a blonde tornado. I got hugged to death; then she pulls back to scan any new changes in my appearance.

I convey to her that I just got here myself, read Cynthia’s note and she rang the doorbell. I haven’t even looked through the apartment yet, other than a brief look in the master bedroom. We strolled through the apartment looking at everything; I just know that Sis is jealous to the core, this apartment is on a par with hers. The kitchen is spacious and includes a lot of appliances that I have never been able to afford. The refrigerator is loaded, but I did notice no junk food, only fruit and vegetables, yogurt, and healthy items. There are a couple of bottles of wine chilling in the door of the refrigerator.

We headed back to the bedrooms, my bed covered with a lacy bedspread with several cute stuffed animals waiting for me to join them. I walked over to the walk-in closet and looked inside. When I had glanced in the room earlier, I thought my male clothes were hung there. On closer inspection my male clothes were gone, a feminine wardrobe, the only inhabitants of the closet. The dresser contained only lingerie, and the vanity had makeup displayed in front of the ornate mirror at the back of the vanity.

After checking out the bathroom and the guest room we headed back to the kitchen and sampled a bottle of wine. I am no wine connoisseur, but Sis approved, it being one of the better California selections from several years ago. We sat in the living room talking about anything and everything, and then the subject turned to what I would be doing the next few days. Although she didn’t say anything, I could tell she is jealous of what I have now. I had an idea but had to wait until she is out of the room to pursue.

She discussed her job some; she is a personal assistant for a CEO, the company dealing with managing people's portfolios. They did not deal much with stock market people, mainly the more conservative ones interested in the long term slow growth of their money. She took a ladies room break and as soon as she cleared the room I called Cynthia on my new phone. She answered and wanted to know what I needed. She was afraid that I didn’t like the apartment. I squeezed in my question first before Sis came back.

I asked if I could invite her to move in with me. Cynthia burst out in an infectious giggle that turned more to outright laughing. She told me to move the note from her aside and look at the copy of the lease beneath it. I did so and noticed both my name and my sister’s name on the top of it. I quickly asked Cynthia if this had been discussed with my sister. She told me no, whether you invite her to join you is up to you. Now, no more excuses do you like the apartment? I told her it is fantastic; surely I need to pay some to offset some of the expense. She said I should wait for a couple of days until some of the photo shoots are over; I think you will find that we will get our money’s worth out of you with little difficulty.

Now hang up and tell your sister the good news. I did just that although I had to wait until she had fixed her makeup and hair. Can’t have the younger sister showing up, the older sister especially since she is a he.

She made her way back to the couch, and I asked her if she liked the apartment. She loved it was her reply. “You are so lucky to have a company like this to work for.” We went to the master bedroom, and I dug through the dresser to look for nighties. I found a pair of nighties, not quite as risqué as the one's sis had loaned to me, but cute none the less. I told her to change, and we will watch a chick flick and drink wine. She bounced off to the bathroom again returning faster than the first time. I took my nightie and did the same.

Back in the living room, we scanned the menu on the home entertainment center and found several films already loaded on the TV. I poured two more glasses, and we settled in to watch the film. It is a classic chick flick, we cried, we giggled, we hugged, and as the credits played on the screen, I asked her to move in with me. She stared at me trying to figure out what I had said. I asked her if her hearing is okay, she nodded her head, and then I asked again if you will move in with me.

She understood this time and squeezed the shit out of me, I finally pried my body loose from her embrace, then giggled at her reaction. She wanted to know what her part of the rent would be; I told her nothing as long as I am employed. I suggested that we put some money away every month for that eventual day when I don’t have a job anymore. I told her that I would help her move when she is ready, and told her that since I am the prettier sister I get, the bigger bedroom. That started a pillow fight that lasted for quite some time. We would hit each other and then collapse on the floor giggling.

Eventually, things calmed down a little, we cuddled in the master bedroom and soon fell asleep. I woke early, even before the alarm and started getting ready. I kissed her on the forehead as she started to wake, then headed down to the limo. The ride to the salon is much shorter, and I am in the salon thirty minutes early. The gals that are to work on me are already there and start my treatments. Cynthia’s assistant is manning the camera till Cynthia comes in, catching on film the removal of the little hair that has managed to re-sprout on my body.

Looking in the mirror, my body seems to be more feminine; I doubt that just removing my body hair again could cause an increase in femininity, but you never know. From one technician to another my transformation to the female gender was recorded for the upcoming ads. It was quite late when I managed to exit the salon, into the limo and then to my new apartment. Sis was waiting for me, had transformed some of the food in the cabinets and refrigerator into something that smelled heavenly. I was starved since I only had a power bar earlier in the day. Cynthia did extract a quite sizable amount of work from me, I did close my eyes often but still could see flash bulbs going off.

We cleaned up the kitchen together, a simple task that I really enjoyed. Helping Sis do things seeming to make us so much closer. We talked for a while, then went to my bedroom to get dressed for bed. I found another set of nighties for us to wear and we talked for a while.

Cynthia had already arranged for Sis to get moved, that would be done tomorrow, then her apartment would be cleaned for her, and her lease terminated. All handled for her, she had such a huge smile on her face, her younger sister providing the connections to arrange all of this. After several impromptu yawns we cuddled in my bed, and soon both of us were lost to dreamland.

The days settled into the same routine, almost fifty percent of my time in the salon, the rest before a camera of one type or another. The ads were running more now, several people now recognizing me on the street. When it was my time to grocery shop I would often spend time talking to people that recognized me, the first question always are you really a male. After a few weeks I got into the swing of things, the hardest is the ten to twelve hour days when we were shooting a new ad. I did have the weekend off, but often spent it at the salon having a facial or some other beauty treatment. Of course, I dragged Sis along, I was especially fond of my waxing days as Sis got handled the same way.

The ads were a great success, the salon busier every time I used it. Cynthia opening a couple of more locations, even adding on to the main salon I used. From Francine came the word that the same was happening all across the chain.

I often reflect on my luck that day, surely it had to be luck for me to be chosen to be a salon goddess. Other than cook something to eat every once in a while I don’t lift a finger to do anything anymore, my sole job is to be the prettiest Goddess of the salon. Maybe making that wish on that falling star was the right thing to do, who will ever know.

© 2016 thru 2024 by Francesca