Irene, A Step Maid

I was a little apprehensive about going home this time. Home just did not seem like a place I wanted to be any more. I am very thankful for finally escaping from this damn school though. Even a little proud of graduating tenth in my class, although I doubted anyone else would lend any significance to the feat.

The school was a boarding school, nestled in the mountains in the northern part of Arizona. It was far from any civilization, the nearest town about seventy miles away. No school uniforms, but the curriculum was very unusual. Oh, we had the usual math, English and a foreign language to learn, French by the way in my case, but the other areas of study were far from anything a normal school might teach.

The reason I was in this school was because of the woman my dad married shortly after my real Mom died in an auto accident. Prior to this school I was in a normal boarding school, in Southern California. I don’t think either of my original parents knew how to deal with male children, the boarding school life one that I was immersed in since the second grade. My sisters did not share my fate; they got to stay home and attend a regular school.

While at the school in Southern California I did get to see my parents at Christmas, and for two weeks during summer recess. Mom is always too busy to spend much time with me and Dad too wrapped up in his business. I did get to spend time with my sisters though, an enjoyable time had by all. We did things together, shopped for presents for each other during the Christmas break and usually spent some time at the beach during the short summer recess. Better than at the boarding school but still not a real family and home environment.

I grew up realizing I was always going to be on my own, so I withdrew physically from showing any kind of affection to others. I resorted to reading and using the internet for my enjoyment, finding out that the normal female oriented romance novels appealed to me. Not for me identifying with the heroine, but for love shared among the characters. Soon I was fantasizing about being in a loving family, with a mother and Father that actually wanted to spend time with me and love me.

When Dad sent me an email about remarrying a younger woman, I was heartbroken. I then came to the conclusion that my real Mother meant little to him, the wedding was only four months after she died in the car accident. I was later to learn he had been living with this woman on and off for over a year, his marriage to my real Mom apparently meaning nothing to him.

Then two weeks later I was transferred from my current school to this one, never even getting to go home before the transfer. The new school seemed nicer in a way, but a lot stricter. It was in a valley nestled among the towering peaks nearby, laid out beautifully on a pristine campus. I got off my bus one afternoon and was attending classes the next morning.

I was puzzled by the classes I had to attend, mainly ones involving keeping up a house, cooking and how to dress while doing this. I excelled in the regular subjects like French, English and math, but suffered in the other classes. Since I really didn’t have much choice in the matter, I finally relented and tried to do better in the other subjects. I hoped the year I had left of schooling would pass quickly, then I would be of age I could do what I wanted.
I knew my father had set up a trust fund for me, available to me on my eighteenth birthday, a date I had circled on my calendar long ago. That date would be three days after I graduated from this school.

I had already ruled out college, not wanting to spend any more time learning anything. Even the thought of spending four more years in some dorm made me sad, I need to find someone to love and in turn be loved back.

I eventually learned what the new school wanted me to. I could clean a house better than most of my fellow students and could cook most any dish from memory, never needing a recipe to do so. The dressing the part was another matter, but I did put up with having to wear an apron for any cleaning or cooking tasks that was assigned to me. I conveniently overlooked the other requirements for dressing appropriately, figuring they did not apply to me. Quite a few of my fellow male students did have to dress the part, wearing a maid’s dress and using makeup.

I presume it was never brought up to me since my family did not furnish me uniforms or makeup to use. I never put much thought into what the others had to do, just figuring it was a weird school, at least they would know how to take care of themselves if they did not marry. I did figure out they were being trained to be maids, how that will work out with their family an unknown entity.

A couple of times I almost had to borrow one of my fellow students’ dresses, since my clothes were getting thread bare from being used for years. My pants were already showing my ankle, my growth spurt making them look ridiculous on me.

Since we were always doing something either cleaning or cooking, I didn’t eat much, my appetite never amounting to much. I guess that was good in a way since my shirts and pants waist wise still fitted me properly, although having been bought new over five years ago. I had already thrown several pairs of pants and quite a few shirts out since they had virtually fell apart while I was trying to put them on. I had mentioned to my family that I could use some new clothes, but my numerous requests fell on deaf ears.

I managed to complete the year somehow with only a couple of more classes today, then I was finished with this place. I made my way to my room after finishing my last class, only to find the head mistress waiting for me. I noticed my closet was empty, even the shelves with my underwear were obviously vacant.

She told me to undress and take a bath, then dress in the clothes laying on my bed. I saw a garment bag laying there, a smile lighting up my face. Maybe someone did get me some new clothes. She told me to hurry, so I wouldn’t miss the bus into town.

I quickly undressed and went to take a bath. The bathrooms in our rooms did not have showers, so a bath was the only way of cleaning ourselves. I hurried, wanting to get out of here as soon as possible. Out of the bath, the scented soap still lingering on my body, a smell I had gotten used to over the year. I toweled dry and rushed to the bed to open the garment bag.

Once open I stepped back, a pair of panties, a bra, a slip, and a dress were the only things in the bag. Oh, there was a pair of high heels in the bottom of the bag and a scrunchie pinned to the dress. I looked for my old clothes, but they were missing along with the head mistress. I looked to see if the head mistress was still around, even calling out to her. No answer, so I decided getting away from here is more important than what I would be wearing.

I dressed in the clothes, the classes I attended in dressing the part of a maid supplied the know how to get the right piece of clothing on the right part of my body. I looked around my room; my laptop was the only thing remaining of mine. I grabbed it and saw my bus tickets laying on top. I looked at the clock on my bedroom wall and hurried out front, I knew the school bus would be leaving soon, and I didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary.

The female clothes felt funny, the silky feeling doing all kinds of things to my over stressed mind. The skirt in particular was short with petticoats underneath to make it stand out. The dress was a fancy maid’s dress, why I was given it to wear home baffled me. I hurried out the door of the dorm just barely catching the school bus before it left.

As I set in one of the seats toward the back of the bus I suddenly realized I was out dressed as a female, on my way back east with no other clothes available. I knew it would be a day and a half before I arrived at my home.

Well too late to do anything about it now. I wonder when I arrived if any of my family will be waiting for me at the bus station. On trips home in the past for Christmas or summer vacations I was not always greeted at the bus terminal, often having to take a cab to get home. I then realized I had no money or I.D, just the bus ticket and my laptop.

I kept thinking about my escape from the school, that alone kept my spirits up. I made the connection in town, surrendering my ticket and took a seat on the bus to take me home. I received several careful inspections by the other travelers, not often you see someone dressed as a maid on a bus. At least, no one sat next to me on the first leg home. Other than being hungry the trip went fairly fast; I spent most of it taking naps or staring out the window.

As the bus pulled into the small town I used to call home, I perked up wanting to see if anyone was waiting for me. Even though I had managed numerous short cat naps from time to time, I was still tired. With only my sisters as close family I doubted I would settle around here, too many sad memories to deal with.

Surprise, surprise my stepmother greeted the bus, taking my hand and leading me to her car. I had received a picture of her early on, so I knew who she was. A new Toyota in white with leather seats greeted me. She clicked the locks and I entered the car as carefully as I could while trying to keep modest.

She complimented me on my appearance, especially my waist. I kept quiet, I am sure she has an agenda to inform me of, so I will remain quiet and see what develops. As she drove off she asked me if I was hungry. My stomach answered much to my embarrassment. She asked if I had not eaten something on the trip here.

I curtly answered I had no money to buy anything to eat. She looked to see if I was kidding then she asked if I had opened my laptop on the trip. I told her no, while I reached for the laptop and opened the case. There laying on top of the keyboard, were two crisp twenty-dollar bills staring at me. I turned many shades of red since I had presumed the worst and in turn she had seen to my basic needs.

A few minutes later we pulled into a restaurant’s parking lot and she turned the car off. Come on, let’s get you something to eat before you blow away. I looked at my clothing, the slips underneath my maid’s dress keeping the skirt flared out. She arched her eyebrow’s up, reminding me that I had made the trip across the country in that dress, and lived to tell about it, a little more exposure is not going to kill you.

I eased myself out of the seat and followed her into the restaurant. When we were greeted by the hostess, I was hoping she would request a table or a booth apart from the others. Nope she pointed to a table right in front of the dining area, visible to everyone in the restaurant.

A waitress showed up handing us menus and took our drink orders. Connie, my stepmom told me we had lots to discuss. She suggested that I listen to all the facts, then after thinking about what I had heard for a while, then ask pertinent questions with some discussion to follow. I nodded my head, but she insisted on a verbal response. Yes, I understood she was voiced, but I could not keep eye contact with her, my eyes focused on my dress with a slight blush coming to my face.

The waitress returned and Connie ordered for both of us, some salads with meat and cheese, with an assortment of salad dressings to place thereon. After the waitress left my stepmom started her spiel. At the time, I thought of it as a spiel, something made up to make her point salient.

Your Father is currently serving a prison term for embezzlement in the state correctional system. Since there were many charges leveled against him, his chance of getting out anytime soon are slim.

His courting and subsequent marriage to me was another attempt to cover his losses, I only escaped with minimum losses since I had checked him out before marriage and found a lot of things that were of concern to me. All my wealth and possessions were put in my Mother’s name, thus he was unable to latch on to any of them.

As soon as he found out about my precautions, he quit coming around, I presume spending his time wooing some other source of financial wealth. We never obtained a divorce, he was too busy trying to seduce his next victim. It all came crashing down on him when an audit of his company accounts revealed a shortage of almost a half million dollars. He was arrested and after several days of interrogation revealed all the other funds he had stolen and then lost in some utterly stupid financial moves. Since he did confess to the crimes, there was no trial, the judge passed sentence a few days later.

All of this transpired about the time I pulled you from the boarding school in California and placed you in the one in Arizona. That was done because he had lost all his personal money, including money set aside for your schooling and your trust fund. The school I transferred you to is one operated by one of my friends, so there was no tuition necessary to be paid. I did check on you often, the head mistress giving me reports on your progress including pictures as you progressed in your studies. Of course, I took in your sisters, since they also had no funds for schooling or any place to live now. Your old house was sold off to cover court costs and some personal monies that he had stolen from individuals he had duped.

Our salads were delivered and she paused in her story. The salads were good, since my hunger was intense, I consumed all of mine over the next thirty minutes. I did use proper table manners, eating slowly and savoring every bite. My one hand remained in my lap where it was supposed to be, a smile on Connie’s face when she saw my actions. After the dishes were carried away, she resumed her story.

I admit not sending you new clothes or money for you to purchase some, wanting to see how you would handle the situation. You did so well, not bitching or complaining but adapting to what you were left with. My friend, the head mistress, felt so sorry for you, almost giving you a full set of maid’s clothing so you would not look so pitiful. I must compliment you on your resolve and determination, admirable to say the least.

Now we arrive at your future. Do you have any thoughts on the matter, I am all ears if you have something you would like to do or pursue. I sat there wondering what I could do or pursue to make something of my life. With my trust funds gone, I really did not have any options left. I did not want to depend on Connie for clothing, somewhere to live and money for essentially everything since I did not have a single thing to my name. I looked down at my maid’s dress and thought, why not.

I cleared my throat and asked if I could work for her as a maid. I am sure your friend can attest to my skills, and maybe you could find it in your heart to furnish somewhere for me to live as part of my wages. I am trustworthy, have had all my shots and can be an asset to any household. Surely a large house such as yours could use experienced help. I saw her smile, then she grabbed the check, paid and we left. She took my hand making sure that I kept up with her as we made our way to her car.

The remainder of the trip was fairly short, about fifteen minutes in length. When she pulled up to the house, I swallowed hard, looked out of the window again then back at her. Her smile was ear to ear now, a giggle or two intermixed occasionally. We parked in front of the house, and she came around to get my door for me. I was helped ou.t then taken into the house. I kept looking around then back at her, I had no idea she owned anything this big. It was a presumption on my part when I asked if I could be her maid earlier.

I was shown into the parlor, then over to a love seat near a writing table. She sat down at the table and took some paper and pen and wrote down my request and her response to it. It turned out to be a contract between her and me, about my employment with her. She listed what I would provide and what she would compensate me for those services. She looked over what she wrote, then at me, finally deciding what she had written was adequate. It was handed to me along with a pen to look over and sign if I thought it was fair.

I made it down to what I would receive in wages, then promptly fainted. I came around to find that I was nestled in her arms with my face a few inches from her bosom. She was running her fingers through my hair and pulling me closer for a hug every now and then. When she saw that I was back among the living she giggled, wanting to know how much she would have to increase my wages to make me accept the deal. I just stared at her, leaning over to the table and finding the pen to sign the contract. I reached up to try and hug her, but she had the advantage and was gripping me tightly in her embrace. I tried to get up, but she wanted me to lay still and listen to her for a minute.

“The third floor of her house is designed for housing any domestic help she might employ several bedrooms and two baths along with lots of closet space. There is an elevator that goes directly to the kitchen, so having to climb stairs will not be necessary.”

“You will mainly be responsible for her care, helping with clothes, baths and normal female maintenance-like nails and hair care. She already has a maid for my sisters, so I will be spared that duty. I will need to share in cooking the meals with the other maid, but she has a service for cleaning the house and maintaining any of the outside grounds. It will be 24/7 every day, normal work hours during the day and on call for late evenings and nights. When she is out of town, I am free to do what I want, the chauffeur will be able to take me anywhere I might desire. There will be times I will have to accompany her on her trips, so a passport will be needed to be obtained, that to be handled in the next few days.”

“We need to see to your looks, I can’t have my personal maid looking so dowdy, I think a few things to give you a female figure, then a new hairstyle and some lessons in makeup might be called for. Other than that I am thrilled that you have decided to be my maid. I will have to admit that the thought crossed my mind often when you were attending the boarding school. I didn’t want to force you or influence you in any way, a decision like this must be made freely. I think we can have a nice relationship as maid and employer and enjoy one as mother and daughter if you would be so inclined.

That last part is only between the two of us. I care for your sisters, but I do not see them as my daughters. They are too much like your father, uncaring and manipulative. I laid there for a few moments then reached up and pulled her close to me trying my best to hug her with all of my being. Between the two of us we managed a tender hug, lasting for quite some time. Maybe just maybe I have found someone to love and in return to love me.

A little while later I was shown to my room, the larger of the rooms on the third floor. I was quite impressed, a queen-size bed and a separate sitting area by the window. An en-suite bath, with a huge tub. At the other end of the bath there is a built-in vanity with a large mirror for my makeup and hair needs. One whole wall of my bedroom devoted to a walk-in closet, already having a few maid’s dresses hanging there. I looked at her, did she presume I would choose to be a maid, or was this all planned somehow.

I received a smirk in return, then she walked to one end of the closet and opened a drawer and removed a gorgeous nightie for me to wear tonight, then back to the closet and pulled out a matching robe to be worn over the nightie. She suggested that I change then come to her room on the second floor. I was holding the nightie in my hands when she left the room, all this a little much since I had only arrived a few hours ago. I did surrender to the nightie, shivers encompassing me as it slid down my body. What a delicious feeling it provided.

With the nightie in place, I delighted in the feel of it on my arms and body. Then the robe after that made me feel so warm and cozy. I looked for some slippers, not finding any but did find a pair of heels, with a moderate heel. They fit perfectly, a smile coming to my face, Connie apparently had this planned for quite some time, everything just too convenient for random luck. Everything so far in my size. I made my way down the stairs, needing practice if I am going to be wearing heels all the time.

Her bedroom was the larger one on the second floor, decorated to be a feminine delight, the main centerpiece a canopy bed right in the middle of the room. Lacy curtains on the windows and an even bigger sitting area in the corner of the room. She was sitting at her vanity brushing her hair as I approached. I held out my hand for the brush and took over the job. I brushed slowly making sure to run the brush through the entire length of her hair. I saw her close her eyes enjoying the feeling of having her hair brushed.

In boarding school it was one of my favorite things to do to brush someone’s hair and to have mine brushed in return. For an eternity I brushed and she purred, for that is what it sounded like as she was enjoying my ministrations.

I stopped, laying the brush down and started rubbing her shoulders, working out the knots I felt in her muscles. Now she was moaning at my efforts, with me giggling a few times as she strung a few moans together in some sort of sentence. When I felt I had them all removed I moved my attention to her face, using some cleanser to clean off all her makeup. Again, the eyes closed and quaint little sounds coming from her mouth. I found some moisturizing cream to finish the job, applying it and rubbing it in.

I stopped for a minute to see what else I could do for her, only to be dragged to her bed and placed in the middle of it, sans the robe. She scooted in next to me and held me tight, not allowing me to move or escape. I whispered that I needed to head to my room, if there isn’t anything else I can do for her.

She placed her finger on my mouth, telling me to shush. She pulled me in a little tighter and was soon asleep. I was able to make her happy with my efforts, to show my love and caring for someone else. For once in my life I seem to be loved in return, what a wonderful feeling. I closed my eyes too and was soon lost in the pleasant feelings of a delightful sleep.

She wouldn’t let me out of her sight for the next week, we did things together, things that a female does to make her feel pretty and attractive. I received those same things back in return, although she does admit that she is not as experienced as I am in doing nails and makeup. I guess I had picked up more from my classes in school than I realized since all of this came so easily to me.

Then on the Monday of the following week, her chauffeur brought her car around and Connie and I departed the house. I had been attired in one of my other maid dresses, one that was in between being a maid’s dress and normal feminine wear. I asked where we were going but her finger on my lips stopped any further questions.

When we pulled up in front of the salon, I swallowed hard, she had mentioned making me look less dowdy, but I had conveniently forgot that part of the conversation. Well, I guess the time for those changes has arrived. I was instructed to enter and tell them that Irene is here for her appointment.

I never connected the name Irene with me until one of the gals came and took me back. I thought I was just announcing that Connie was here for an appointment. Duh it takes some people a lot longer to figure out some things. Irene and Connie are two distinctive names, not easily confused.

Several techs entered the room, apparently all of them to work on my dowdiness. Let’s just say that I severally doubt the word dowdy and me will be referred to in the same sentence ever again. Ears pierced, body hair removed, a female appliance applied covering my male genitalia and two perky breasts added to my former flat chest.

Irene is now here for the duration, the breasts pointing out that fact, sucked from my body I imagine they are mine for quite a while. Then they started on my hair, a cute, layered bob cut for now, until I can grow my hair longer. It was five hours later before I received any clothes to wear, the underwear coming first.

A pair of panties, then I was fitted for a corset, a cute lacy piece of fluff that absolutely took my breath away. Not for being nice looking but for the way it engulfed me in its evil embrace. After it was laced up properly, It took me thirty minutes before I could resume breathing in a somewhat normal manner. It was not the corset that gave way, it was my body that had to adjust. Short breaths and often, if I wanted any air at all.

I pleaded and begged for some relief, even an inch would be most welcome. Their only reply is that tomorrow it could be taken in another inch, maybe two. I tried to let out a groan, but that was not even to be. My maid’s dress again for the trip home, much looser than on the trip here due to the corset.

Of course, Connie was ecstatic at my new looks, her hands going to my breasts immediately. Back home and I resumed my duties as her personal maid. In the morning I was to see to her dressing, selecting her clothes to wear was one of my responsibilities after she informed me of what was on her agenda for the day. Then seeing to the maintenance of her room, linens changed, clothes seen to and all straightened as needed.

After the first week the other maid handled breakfast and lunch when there was someone home, and I cooked and served dinner every night. That change was made after Connie took a bite of my first offering. I was proud, a way to show my love and caring for her, a delicious meal served properly and eagerly consumed by her. On occasion one or more of my sisters would be there for dinner, but most of the time they were at a friend’s house or out on a date.

In our limited conversations with each other they were looking for someone to marry, their ticket out of here. Although Connie gave them a roof over their head, nothing more was offered to them other than a small allowance for their basic needs.

When they complained she pointed to me, telling them they could work for her as maids to make extra money for whatever they wanted. No one took her up on her offer, they wanted the easy way, to them that meant getting married and acting as wives.

I pity anyone that married one of them, all my sisters were looking for, was someone to take care of them and who they could eventually fleece for their money. On several occasions they actually stated those words, not ashamed of their beliefs or behavior in the least.

It wasn’t but a few weeks later when I went to my room to find my closets and dresser empty. I made sure they were not hidden in the room somewhere, now worried if I had done something wrong and was being evicted. I was never one for having any self-confidence, so as I made my way down to her room I was almost sick to my stomach in worry. I knocked like I usually do when her bedroom door is closed then entered. Connie was hanging something in the small closet nearest to the bathroom. I noticed a new dresser there to the other side of the closet, one that had not been there until now.

I walked up to her and curtsied. I managed to get my question out, although it was barely heard, a combination of me being nervous and my all of a sudden squeaky voice. She made me repeat the question this time loud enough for her to be able to understand it.

“Am I being let go for some reason; my uniforms are missing from my closet and my dresser with my dainties is empty. Whatever I did I am so sorry. You can dock my pay, or even not pay me, but I need you in my life. Please keep me. Please…….

Connie pulled me closer to her, then both hands on the side of my head as she leaned in and kissed me. I absolutely melted, then started sobbing uncontrollably. She held me close, letting the tears ease, then stepped aside letting me see inside the closet she was standing in front of. There were all of my uniforms, neatly lined up. Right next to them was my going out in public clothes, ones that I had not even realized were missing from my room.

I giggled, then attacked her kissing and rubbing and squeezing her getting her to giggling, then outright laughter. Once calmed down, she said that my sisters were moving out, they had found an apartment that one of their boyfriends had and would share with them.

Connie had no problem with them moving out but wanted them to realize once they did there would be no returning here. She gave each a check for a thousand dollars but reminded them there would be no more in the future. So, plan ahead. The girls were so happy and almost ran out of the house. Their maid was packing for them now and the boyfriend and some of his friends would be by later to pick up the boxes.

“So, my dear daughter it is just you and me now. The sister’s maid will stay on to help keep up the house, the two of you are now responsible for its cleanliness and tidiness. The service I had in the past now terminated. So, let’s get that makeup repaired and get to work. I expect something special for dinner tonight, so we can celebrate, then a night of cuddling and kissing culminating in a late brunch maybe. Then an afternoon shopping for my maid and daughter.”

Just think what might of happened if I had not offered to be her maid. But then again, I think she had it all planned anyway. Either way I am so happy to have a caring mother, and a career as a maid, a job I so enjoy. A wonderful life indeed as a step-maid.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Chantilly, Flowers For A Southern Belle

I was working in one of the Florida theme parks, not the big D world but still one that attracted a lot of tourists. The concept was mainly centered on water skiing and fast boats. For some of the other tourists we had beautiful gardens, with acres of flowers on display at all times, spread among some natural Florida landscape.

The attraction that held the most interest for me was the Southern Belles, attired in their gorgeous dresses a pleasant sight for tourist or visitor as they walked through the gardens. Of course, especially for this particular park employee.

I was employed as a gardener, about five acres of gardens for me to watch over. My job was to keep all the old flowers picked off, keep the flowering shrubs trimmed and neat and replant a small portion of my acreage every day to insure future blooms for the tourists. It was not a hard job, sometimes sweaty but never physically taxing. Watering was automatic, thank goodness or I would have never been able to keep up.

I did find time to admire the real scenery of the park, the girls attired in the gorgeous Southern Belle dresses my main interest. Although my flowers looked beautiful, there was no contest when paired against the delightful belles. One gal in particular always attracted my attention, a tallish blonde that was well endowed. She always wore pink or ivory dresses, her skirts over five foot wide from side to side.

She had been at the park for quite a while starting just a few weeks prior to when I started. She was nice always saying hi to me as she wandered the park. I especially liked it when a tourist would stop her to take a picture near my area. A special treat for me, allowing me a longer glance and a chance to watch her interact with the tourists.

It actually took me weeks before I found out her name, one of the other belles calling her name the only way I found out. Her name was Colette, at least as far as the park is concerned. I found out later that a lot of the girls used a fake name in the park trying to keep their personal life private from the few males that were determined to abuse the privilege.

One such male had traced one of the girl’s real name to an address and even visited her there. A neighbor called the police on him and he was removed from the scene. It was obvious he was inebriated, causing the slurred words and his pawing at the girl. Shortly after that incident the park issued new ID for all the girls, their fake name now on the park ID, next to their picture. As an added safeguard, the ID picture was taken while in costume with full makeup and their hair styled.

It was approaching the end of another week, when my boss came by asking me to stop and go see Evelyn in personnel. I tried to find out what it was about, fearing that I was going to be let go. Hopefully, it was just my overactive imagination since the crowds have been fairly good recently. I washed up a little, not good to show up in the offices looking muddy and unkempt. I even ran a brush through my hair getting out the tangles then redoing it in my usual low ponytail.

I left the employee dressing rooms and headed to the office. I was shown right in, Evelyn obviously waiting for me. After greeting me I was asked to sit and she returned to her chair behind the desk.

She made some small talk, then paused. I figured here it comes, we no longer need you, please clean out your locker and we will send your last check. Instead she asked if I was willing to explore something new in my employment with them. I look puzzled, but she just smiled and continued on. We are doing some new things with the Southern Belles, and you happen to fit the parameters we are looking for.

Again the puzzled look, then I managed an intellectual huh in response. She smiled again and then asked if I had met Colette in the park yet. I managed to nod my head yes, telling her we often exchange greetings as she walks around the park.

“Colette is heading this new concept, an idea she had come up with a little over a year ago. The executives have worked on the idea, finally presenting it to the CEO for approval. Last week it was approved, five employees to be picked to be part of this new concept.

We have run all of the employee’s profiles through the computer trying to find suitable matches to the requirements of the new program. It is not only looks we are looking for but also knowledge of the park. The selected ones will be essentially tour guides, handling large groups of tourists visiting from other countries or part of a special group vacationing in the area.

We found four nearly perfect matches, but the fifth spot is still not filled. Repeated searches with the computer came up with the same results, your name the fifth employee qualified for the job. If this sounds like something you might be interested in I will refer you to Colette, for her to tell you what part you might hesitate agreeing to. I was about to say something, working with Colette would be a dream come true. Instead Evelyn suggested I wait to say anymore, then head down to Belle costuming where Colette will be waiting for you.

I thanked her for considering me, then left to head down to costuming. I did catch a smirk on her face as I left the office. Since I have been here working in gardening I have never been in the costuming warehouse, I knew where it was and have seen the results of their efforts, the belles the most obvious of that group. In the park it was known as Belle HQ.

They also did the bathing suits for the skiers and a few costumes for a skit that was part of the water ski show, but their main function was dressing and handling the Southern Belles. As I entered I was astounded at the hundreds of dresses housed therein. I asked for Colette at the front desk and was shown to a room at the side of the warehouse. I was passed by several young ladies all in costumes their dresses brushing up against me as they maneuvered through the aisle. Quite a feat since their dresses were so wide.

I knocked on the door and was told to enter. Colette welcomed me and had me sit down on a couch at the back of the room. It was a cozy grouping with her sitting right next to me. I was thrilled, not having been this close to her since I first saw her. She smiled and told me that she needed to be serious for a few minutes, for me to listen to all she has to say before I say anything.

“I know you are attracted to me, it is obvious how you stare at me and follow everything I do. For the next few moments that needs to be set aside and you need to focus on what I have to say.”

“I came up with this idea to have some specially trained tour guides for large groups of tourists that can show the features of the park to its best advantage. Along with a translator most foreign groups would be best served by this service. They will take the groups through the park, answer questions about the park, gardens and about the ski shows we put on. Because the park has quite a bit of notoriety with the Southern Belles, each tour guide will be dressed as one.”

She paused to let me work out what she just said. My mind was trying to put the pieces together, but being so close to Colette was affecting my thought processes. Then it hit me, they wanted me to dress as a Southern Belle. I opened my mouth, tried to say something but the only thing that emerged was what.

She reached over to hold my hand, I looked at her hand holding mine, but my vocal cords were still not functioning, frozen in time. I leaned back against the back of the sofa and closed my eyes. She squeezed my hand again to get me to open my eyes, then started explaining why I was selected out of the two thousand plus employees of the park.

“We were looking for someone between five foot eight and six feet, weighing less than one hundred and forty pounds, essentially someone thin and fairly tall. They have to have longer hair, softer facial features including a thin nose and no prominent jaw line. That was it for the looks requirements. But the essential thing was knowledge of the park. They had to have been working here for at least four years, and out in the park, not in support behind the scenes. The other four chosen were former or present belles, but the fifth one was not to be among that group. We had some close to the qualifications but they were missing some important facet of the requirements, mainly knowledge about the park”.

“So we ran everybody through the computer again. Each time you name came up as the most logical choice. Your knowledge of the plant life especially valuable since we have many groups coming for the gardens only. Finally I met with the head of costuming and we pulled a picture from you personnel file and ran it through a program we have here to show a person dressed and made up as a Belle. Due to how that picture turned out we have found our fifth person.”

“Evelyn and I have went over your personnel file looking for some reason you might turn us down, like being married or living with your parents. We didn’t want to offer the job to you if there was some extenuating circumstances other than you just don’t want to dress as a female.

The fifth Belle is necessary since we have announced the program a few weeks back and have now commitments for all five individuals plus me for the next year. A great start but now a major problem. I had you meet me here in the costuming warehouse because I want you to experience being dressed as a Belle before you turn us down. Please give it a try, myself and the park will be forever in your debt if you will help us out.”

“Nobody will know but myself and your dresser. Cathy is discreet and has been a friend of mine since I started working here. Can I get you to give it a try? Please.”

I set there in shock, trying to process all she has told me. I am not even sure I heard everything she said. She squeezed my hand again and pulled me to my feet. I followed her to a changing room towards the back of the warehouse, stumbling along since my mind was still not with the program. We entered the room and she helped me remove my clothes except for my boxers.

I should be thrilled that she is doing it, but the dress behind her hanging there was very intimidating and had all of my limited brain function focused on it. Cathy came in with a garment in her hand and it was unfolded and placed around my waist.

They hooked it together in front, then tightened the laces in the back. Soon I was gasping for some air, it restricted my air intake severely. Colette told me to relax, take a deep breath and calm down. About the third time she told me I managed to get enough air to keep from fainting. My boxers were removed and replaced with a white pantie, for which I had to firmly bite my tongue to keep from doing something I definitely would be embarrassed about.

Luckily I was facing away from them when the boxers slid down my legs, the red in my face also distracting them. As soon as I stepped in to the pantie I reached down and pulled them up as fast as I could, trying desperately to get junior confined before I erupted. The corset didn’t help any, making it almost impossible to reach the pantie, to get it up my legs.

Then the two of them laid the dress on the floor and had me step inside it. The dress was pulled up sliding over my hips and nestled around my chest. I looked down and saw some small breasts lying in the cups of the corset, now the top of those small breasts peeking out from the bodice of the dress. As I was zipped up in the back I immediately noticed the weight of the dress and how the skirt swirled around me with the slightest movement of my body.

I was moved a few feet so I was standing in front of a mirror, the image reflecting back feminine and pretty. My head looked out of place on top of this gorgeous dress, but other than that I looked like one of the Southern Belles. While I was still trying to figure out what to do, Colette leaned in and briefly kissed me right on the lips. Well that short circuited everything, leaving me in a daze and essentially brain dead.

I just stood there, lost in my thoughts, actually considering myself in the role. I think Colette saw that, since I was sat at a large vanity and Cathy started on my makeup and hair style. I had to lift my skirt over the vanity stool as the skirt spread out all around me. Even though I was sitting on something that could not be seen.

Some warm curlers were placed in my hair, while she applied some makeup to my face. It took her about forty minutes to convert me, now my head looked like it belonged on this body. The curlers removed and a brush used to shape the hairstyle. Then before I could figure out what to do or say, Colette pulled me up and led my outside. I had been given some low heels what all the girls wore in the park. About two inches high and with a block heel making it easier to walk the trails through the park.

I tried to resist, but Colette had one goal in mine and she was determined to succeed. Then the next thing I remembered was walking among some of the park’s guests with Colette. Before I knew it we were out in the tourist part of the park strolling along waving to the visitors and posing for pictures. I was reluctant to do any waving, but Colette’s elbow in my side quickly gained the desired results. I was surprised how many times I was asked to have my picture taken, to me Colette much more attractive as a beautiful belle.

As I was asked often to pose for pictures, the first few times I looked behind me thinking they were asking someone else. I can still close my eyes and see the flashbulbs of the many cameras that captured my image on film. The time seemed to pass quickly, then we returned to the warehouse to use the bathroom and grab something to drink. Going to the bathroom in the dress was a major task, Colette having to help me at several points.

Then back out to the gardens for several more hours. No chance to question her about any of this, she just grabbed my hand and led me off. She kept me out there for almost three hours, then we headed back to Belle HQ. She finally told me we were through for the day.

At the warehouse Cathy helped me undress, then handed me a skirt and blouse. I looked at the two items then at Cathy, then at Colette trying to figure out what I was to do with the clothes. Meanwhile Colette had slipped out of the belle dress and was changing into her own clothes. As she came over to me she leaned in closer, put them on, your clothes got lost and if you want to leave the park you have to wear them.

Well with no functioning brain to see the fallacy there, I slipped on the skirt, then the blouse and Colette quickly led me out of costuming. I was taken to her car and told to get in. I had my mouth open, with not a single word escaping. She repeated her request and I did finally get in her car. She drove me to her house, a nice ranch house about twelve miles from the park, Definitely in an area that I would never be able to afford to live in, much less visit.

I was lost, totally lost. I was in a skirt and blouse after working the majority of the day as a costumed Southern Belle. Now to be taken to Colette’s house, my mind could not figure out what was going on. When we got to her house, she parked in the garage and pointed to the door right in front of me. I got out of her car, the skirt I was given making it more difficult than it should be.

As I approached the door, I hesitated not sure if I could handle being with Colette alone. Well she handled that quickly as she walked through the door dragging me right behind her. I was led to her living room, then pushed down on the sofa. She went off to the kitchen, returning with some drinks for us. She sat right next to me, only a few inches between our legs. I quickly took a drink, needing something to help clear my parched and silent throat. Something for my nerves would be appreciated too, but that was not to be offered.

She started the conversation, much to my relief. I didn’t really know what to say anyway.

“Did you enjoy the day as a Southern Belle?”

I nodded my head, words still not able to escape my mouth.

“Good then you will be our fifth and final Belle.”

I raised my hand to say something, then quickly put it down and stared at the floor. I felt a hand under my chin, then her eyes focused on mine.

“Look it is obvious you did not hate what I had you do today. With a little more practice I am sure you will learn to enjoy it. The money is good, some free clothes in the deal and lots of exposure to people that could lead to better things for you. Just think of it as an acting job, a part that you have to play every day to be able to support yourself.”

Now that is handled, let’s talk about you and me. I have always had an interest in you from the first day I saw you working in the park. I always slowed down so that I was in view for a longer period of time. I thought I would get some reaction from you, but you stayed with your work and just stared at me. I found out from your boss and several co-workers that is just how you are, very reclusive and shy.

Then this project got the green light and I had my hands full trying to find suitable employees for the positions. I smiled inwardly when your name came up on the first search through the employee’s profiles. At the time I did not even consider you for one of the positions. We ran everybody’s profiles through several times, your name always there for the fifth spot. I ran a picture of you through our software, a cute candidate for the fifth Belle always the outcome.

I talked to my boss and we decided a one day run through might be the best way to proceed. That way we could see your interaction with the tourists, and also how convincing you would be in costume. Well the results are in and I have found my fifth Southern Belle. Now are you going to resist or do I need to persuade you some more. I scooted back on the sofa as far as I could but she just moved even closer.

I started to say that I was scared, this just too much for me to handle. Before I could finish the sentence I was kissed on the lips, her hands on either side of my face making me look her in the eyes. A few seconds into the kiss, I closed my eyes enjoying the feelings coursing through my body.

I was still scared to death about doing this, but didn’t want to let Colette down. At least that is what I was telling myself. I never did get to express my concerns that afternoon and evening, every time I would start I would be hugged, kissed or fondled, making me lose my concentration.

When she undressed me and slipped a nightie over my head, I gave up. I was dragged off to bed, hugged and spooned all night long. The next morning I was greeted with a sensuous kiss and called Chantilly, my new park name. Oh well, life as a gardener now apparently over for me.

I spent a day at a salon that did makeovers for the park, not knowing when I showed up how drastic the makeover would be. I was to find out it would be an all day appointment, Chantilly in all of her feminine charms the end product. No half measures here, Chantilly now a 24/7 reality.

My body hair was removed, including my eyebrows then a moisturizing cream applied to help make my skin soft and supple. A false vagina glued over my male appendage, giving me the classic female camel toe look. Then a set of breast forms to balance the look. The techs did some other things, but lets face it with the pair of breasts that were now on my chest, I was not paying any attention to anything else they were doing. Suffice to say by three o’clock that afternoon I was ready to join the belle workforce as a natural looking female.

Back to Belle headquarters and into one of my gowns, then shod in a pair of heels and taken to a waiting group of Japanese tourists waiting for a tour. I had a translator, and spent the next four hours guiding them around the park pointing out the gardens and flowers we used. The only thing that kept the tour from continuing was the sun setting.

They talked with the translator, then with the park executive in charge of the tours when we got back. I had been requested to do the same tomorrow, going over the areas we had already seen and the parts we had missed. I had not been assigned anything for tomorrow so their request was granted. A full day escorted tour would make the park a ton of money a fact I know they would be happy about.

After I had started on the tour I never even thought of my disguise, I was just a female helping some tourists see the natural beauty of the park. I did take them to spots that the tourist seldom saw, in particular a huge orchid affixed to a Magnolia showing over a hundred flowers in all of their splendor. Then right next to the Magnolia a squirrel nursing a couple of new babies. It was in my old area of responsibility and the squirrel was used to seeing me. My new female looks not bothering it any.

I succumbed to the role full time, one more visit to the salon for more realistic enhancements to my body. I enjoyed my work, even learning some foreign languages so that I could communicate with my guests easier. Now I do the tours, but only for the garden portions of the park. Past experiences have made me quite popular, now often the groups when signing up for the tours requesting that I do the tour.

I never did get back to my apartment, that one night with Colette turning into a regular occurrence. I even sold my car, the two of us often going into work together. A year into my new job I attended a private wedding ceremony, next to the big Magnolia, the huge orchid plant offering up hundreds of blooms to honor the two blushing brides. Of course, we had a group of squirrels to watch the proceedings, seven in number all of their attention focused on us.

We were dressed in our fanciest Belle dresses, with several other Belles as bridesmaids. A truly magical moment, one that I will treasure forever.

Colette has moved up in management, but I have stayed as a belle, my first love. Six days a week for at least three hours a day depending on the size and number of the groups. A wonderful job, a loving boss and a life I want to live forever. It all started with flowers for a Southern Belle.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Clara, To Be A Flapper

My history class was becoming quite a problem. The teacher was middle age and female; she was strict in her teachings, making us learn every facet of history or we would not pass. She loved to assign research papers on the time of history we were studying; she handled that by engaging us in debate during class about some part of what we were studying.

Then, as a subject came up, she would pick a part of that, then assign it to a member of the class at random. Whenever she assigned a subject to one of us, there would be groans, loud ones. She would giggle and then sometimes add to the subject she just handed out. Believe me, no one slept or daydreamed in her class, we had to be alert to keep from being singled out more than usual.

We were talking about the early nineteen hundreds and female beauty. The original conversation was about flappers but as most of the discussions in our classroom, it quickly migrated to beauty, female actresses and hair styles.

When I saw her glancing my way I should have panicked, but she seemed to move on shortly thereafter. She had handed out quite a few subjects that would require papers of at least five thousand words. She did allow adequate time for us to do research for our papers, usually six to eight weeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stood there utterly in shock. I opened my mouth several times and nothing came out. I did sit in the chair opposite her and managed to ask her to reconsider. She smiled, “Okay I will offer you one option to the previous assignment.

In three weeks, you walk in here to my office and present yourself in appropriate clothes, makeup and hair of Clara Bow, answer my questions of the period and their tie-in to your looks and I will give you a passing grade. Get all of your questions right and present yourself as a proper flapper and I will award you an A+. Your choice, take it or leave it. Now, you have quite a bit of work to do, I might suggest that you get at it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another set of curlers were then put into my hair, larger than the others, but no other solution or chemical added. Another stint under the dryer and then they were removed. The sight of my curly hairdo was comical, but after she started brushing it out it turned into something so feminine.

I looked like Clara now or countless other flappers I had seen pictures of in the research material I was gathering. Even at the salon I had articles in front of me trying to absorb all the info. It was somewhat easier with the new look, the hairstyle only reinforcing the look of a flapper. I started to see the connection to what history was and my looks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Fawn, A Sexy Cocktail Waitress

It was sheer bedlam in the casino, a group had booked the whole casino and hotel for seven days straight, we are talking major money here. No info on the group was shared down at our level yet, but it was rumored they were major high rollers.

The problem was quite a few employees were on vacation, something the casino allowed, in fact encouraged, right after the Christmas holiday. So, the powers to be were down interviewing everybody to see who could work extra shifts to fill in the gaps.

I was an assistant supervisor of the waiters and waitresses, having served here the longest and being the most experienced of the group. In fact, I started as a waiter at the casino many years ago. My boss was doing the interviews, making sure anyone that had any free time was scheduled somewhere. Towards the end of the day, we met to plan out a schedule to see how many positions we still had vacant. Three hours later we had a tentative plan, based on the fact of everybody showing up at the scheduled time.

Several maids got shifted to waitress duties, especially for the times the buffets would be offered. Some of the more experienced waitresses were chosen to be cocktail waitresses, just not in the main gaming areas where most of the special guests were expected to be.

We were still short in the main gaming areas, a situation that we could not allow. The cocktail waitress in this area often did more than just serve drinks. She consoled the losers and hung on the arms of the winners encouraging them to play a little more, giving the casino time to win back what it had lost. Kind of a social butterfly, flitting from one guest to the other to keep everyone happy and content.

Their job was to do everything possible to keep the customer playing the games of chance, those duties ranged from giving a massage to the shoulders and neck of a guest to a kiss for luck or to soothe a substantial loss. The position required a keen sense of whom to help and where they could be of the most benefit. To be skilled in flirting a prime prerequisite of the position.

If the casino guest was female a waiter would be called upon to perform the same tasks, but in those cases, it was usually the female guest that noticed a certain waiter and motioned them over. Whereas with the male guests any attractive cocktail waitress would usually suffice. When I say attractive, I am implying gals that would be an eleven on a scale of ten in normal society. Heavy in the breast area, nice, rounded hips and long hair either loose and framing the face or piled high up on their heads in curls.

One of our best cocktail waitress examples is Vicky, a blonde with hair to her waist, a 42/32/40 figure with killer breasts. She always sported long polished nails with nail art while her makeup was sultry and sexy all the time. With the standard cocktail waitress costume and the six-inch heels there isn’t any male that could resist a look of lust at what she represented.

The rest of the girls were similar, at least a high ten if you had to rate them. Blondes the preferred hair color of most of them. It was a much sought after job by the gals, the tips they received often exceeding their wages most shifts.

Unfortunately for us Vicky was one of the ones on vacation, in Yucatan of all places. Cynthia was the next most experienced, but being a brunette, not the most popular of the cocktail waitresses with the guests. I did find out that Cynthia was scheduled to become a blonde, a sacrifice she was making for the good of the casino. Everybody seemed to be cooperating, realizing what a golden opportunity this was for themselves and the casino.

Mary, my boss kept me after the meeting broke up, wanting to discuss some things with me. I stayed but deep down in my inner being there were alarms going off. She had me get a couple of soft drinks from her refrigerator over in the corner of her office and we got comfortable on her sofa.

She started the conversation by mentioning the booking of the rooms alone was worth a third of a million dollars in revenue. One of the principal guests was listed on the official Las Vegas high roller list, an estimate of his gambling losses and wins totaling almost a million dollars a year. He owned several major shipping companies, both sea and trucking and depending on who estimated his total worth a billionaire at worst.

Several others in his immediate party also in that Fortune 100 grouping. The group as a whole was organized by one of his buddies, a week of luxury, shows and lots of gambling. There were so many people interested in joining the group they ended up turning down some, the hotel not having any more rooms available. Since the hotel had a little over three hundred rooms, it was a major feat. Of course, all members of the elusive group were of the male sex, for some reason the male of the species more likely to gamble than the female.

Mary asked how far my loyalty to the casino extended. I smiled and told her that I looked at my job as a career, not wanting to go somewhere else for more money or a better lifestyle. She had a proposition for me. One that would ensure my future with the casino.

She slid over a picture of a female, very similar in looks to Vicky and asked if I recognized the female. I picked up the picture and knew immediately I was in deep do do. They had taken one of my pictures and photo shopped it, the male image changed to that of a female. Hair color now blonde, makeup and long hair flowing over my shoulders along with significant breasts.

The only way that I recognized it as a picture of me is the birthmark right below my right ear. This particular picture had the hair swept to one side allowing my ear and my telltale birthmark to show. Most of the time I keep it covered with some makeup, but whoever did the alterations to the photo missed it. I tried to play dumb; I am sure I will get roped into this somehow, but I was not going to make it easy for Mary. Hey, she is my boss and the smart one so let her earn her wages.

“I see you have found a new girl; does she have any experience at all or is she still green behind the ears.” Mary smiled. Now that we have that handled, I need you in female mode and in heels so that by the time you are needed you will be just the sexiest cocktail waitress supervisor we have ever had. I looked at her, waited a minute you haven’t even asked if I will do it, this is obvious harassment. She just smiled, if you are going to play games with me then I will assume you are on board, just wanting to wind me up.

You have an appointment in the salon in precisely fifteen minutes, so be on time. That is the Turnabout Gurl Salon in the west annex, I am sure you can find it. Then after your transformation you are in female mode till the guests leave ten days from now. Everything is paid for so all you have to do is show up. You can thank me later, if you excel in your new position, I might even be persuaded to leave you as a cocktail waitress, with your new looks I am sure you will clean up financially, maybe even challenge Vicky as sexiest cocktail waitress.

Oh, I forgot to mention you are now known as Fawn, a buxom transfer from our casino on the east coast. Give me a hug, your future awaits. As I stood up, I was in a daze, Mary had somehow turned this all around on me presuming I had agreed to this idiotic scenario and was just winding her up. She had half of it right but got carried away with the other half.

I did get the hug, and she assisted me to the door, well shoved me out the door to be more precise, pointing me in the direction of the west annex.

I stumbled in that general direction, not realizing until I was standing in front of the salon that I had made it to my salon appointment. Still on autopilot I walked in and gave them my name, a puzzled look from the receptionist, then I remembered that I was now called Fawn.
Well, that was the magic word as several of their stylists came forward, helping me back to the treatment room. Before I could figure out what to do or ask about, I was naked and permission slips were slid in front of me to sign.

I have no idea why I signed them, my mind was still back at Mary’s office and her telling me that I needed to convert to the female sex and become a cocktail waitress. I presume any logical thoughts were impossible, so I signed and was soon up on a table being stripped of any body hair. From there things seem to escalate, ears pierced, with my nails now extended and polished.

Then an intimidating machine was wheeled in and large cups were glued to my chest right above my nipples. Hoses hooked up to the cups and the pump turned on pulling any excess flesh into the cups, the start of my soon to be breasts. From the size of the cups, I will be giving Vicky some serious competition in the breast department.

With the pump on the machine humming away my chair was leaned back and my hair was worked on. First task seemed to be coloring my hair, as a paste was spread over my roots, then worked into the rest of the hair. While the coloring was processing several bundles of long blonde hair were brought in and hung on a small table next to my chair. From the light blonde color of the extensions, I will definitely be classified as a blonde, even maybe a little ditzy since blondes of that lighter color tend to be at a disadvantage IQ wise.

Since I am sitting in the salon allowing them to convert me to the female sex, I might have to agree with the low IQ premise associated with that hair color. To think I had allowed myself to get roped into this when my hair was brunette in color. My IQ must be pretty low initially, now being turned into a blonde I am sure it will fail to register anything on the IQ scale now.

Once the hair coloring was finished and my hair again dry, they started adding in the extensions. I had stupidly let my hair grow the last year, its length now to my shoulder blades, frequently worn in a low ponytail when working. Now with the extensions there would be little doubt of my gender, since very few males had hair below their shoulder blades.

From what some of the other waitresses had said extensions tied in like they were doing to my hair were almost permanent until the hair they were tied to fell out naturally. Maybe Mary was serious about me staying as a cocktail waitress after this current scenario plays out.

It took them five hours to get all the extensions tied into my hair, a look at the image reflecting in the mirror in front of me was surreal. It seemed like my hair was twice as big as before, the volume of it was much more than I had previously possessed. Then we have the length, the tips of my extensions coming down to my waist.

Other than how I look now with the extensions, I knew taking care of this new hair would be quite a feat, in my case I can see myself in the salon quite often. A better way to deal with my new mass of intimidating hair.

With the breast machine still sucking my soon to be breasts from my chest, they started applying makeup to my face. The tech explained it was semi-permanent lasting for up to six months, with only a touch up needed to keep the color fresh and kissable. Not sure that is what I wanted to hear.

It is sounding more and more like this masquerade was going to be for the long term, not just for the present group of high rollers. I need to confront Mary on this and find out why I am being prepared for the job like it was to be my long-term job with the casino.

Stopping and thinking about all of this I might have waited too long already, breasts, hair, makeup and no telling what else already making me appear as a member of the female sex. A member that can’t just take everything off and return to the male gender that easily.

After the makeup was finished it was another hour before the breast machine was finished with its task. As the cups were unhooked from the machine they quivered some, acting just like real breasts would. I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them again things would be like they were before, but the hair laying on my back and shoulders, the taste of the lipstick on my lips and the quivering masses on my chest were sure to keep that from happening. The mirror that had been covered in front of me, now reflected my new image. An image of the new cocktail waitress working for the casino, Fawn is now amazingly real.

They were not through with me body wise, the proper feminine look was administered to my groin, my male member glued back between my legs and covered with a most realistic female looking appliance. It was explained to me that I needed to sit to pee now, just like a female, and of course apply the proper sanitary items when it was my time of the month.

That last statement got one of my you have got to be kidding looks, but the tech performing the procedure simply handed me a tampon and showed me how to use it. It felt more than a little weird as it slid inside of me, but the hardest part was getting used to seeing a string hanging from my new slit, a definite indication of the new body I now occupied.

Some clothes were next, brief and sexy as befitting a cocktail waitress. I swear that most of my body was on display, the cute, cropped tee and the barely visible short shorts the only clothes I was allowed other than a pair of sky high heels. It was as I was heading up to the front of the salon I realized I was not given panties or a bra. Still in a daze I made it up to the front of the salon, to only come face to face with Mary, her megawatt smile from ear to ear. I was dragged from the salon, then down to the casino, our apparent destination.

I received a short review in flirting, then Mary and I wandered the floor, making our presence known and interacting with a lot of the customers trying their luck at the tables. We were not employees of the casino tonight, just two friendly ladies out for some fun and maybe meet up with someone special. That thought kept entering my mind as I flirted and kissed some of my admirers. Was I doing this for real? Surely what little common sense I might have possessed had left me some time ago.

Several hours later Mary suggested that we take a break, I agreed immediately, my feet sorely in need of some rest. Mary treated me to a nice meal in one of our better restaurants, my stomach and feet most appreciatively for the nourishment and being able to sit down for a while.

Then the next revelation, I will be staying in one of the casino’s apartments so that I can maintain the role, leaving no chance to escape to my own apartment and my former male existence. As if that would change anything.

The casino had purchased an apartment building nearby a few years ago, allowing the female employees a place to stay close to work and at a reduced rental. Quite a few of the cocktail waitresses took advantage of the offer, since the more time they worked the floor, the more money they made in tips. Living close to work allowed them to spend a few more hours at work, eliminating the daily commute.

Mary had seen to my accommodation, taking away any chance I might have had to slip back into my previous male existence. Of course, the breasts, and my lack of anything resembling a male penis had pretty much accomplished that already.

She went with me to see my new apartment; I am sure she just wanted to be sure I was settled in before she left for home. She did gather my keys for my old apartment and my ID, credit cards and cash before she left. I was told I could eat at any of their restaurants and buy whatever else I needed at one of their boutiques just by signing my name.

I quickly thought of how thorough she was, the boutiques at the casino only offered clothes for the female. Of course, any beauty needs would be handled at the salon.

She made sure I was not mad at her for all she had done, then I got a passionate kiss and she left, making sure I knew my first shift started at one in the afternoon. Since it was now two in the morning, that did not leave much time for sleep. I really could not be mad at her, she has been a great boss and we have become quite good friends, maybe a little more than that judging by the kiss I received as she left. That kiss definitely left me in a quandary.

I tried out the bed, it was pure heaven, making me not want to get out of bed to get undressed. I did manage to shed my clothes, then peeked into my closet. I saw only the uniforms for our cocktail waitresses in our standard array of colors. At the bottom of the closet, way too many pairs of heels, none with a heel height less than four inches. The six-inch heels were the majority though, a requirement for a cocktail waitress. No other dresses, skirts, or blouses hung on the closet rod, not even a single pair of pants. In the dresser I found a nightie, although it felt better to have it on than naked, there was not much difference.

A note hanging on the bathroom mirror reminded me to use a moisturizer cream all over my body before I went to sleep, and a special moisturizer in the gold bottle on my face. What they had told me about my makeup was true, the cream did moisturize my skin but not one fleck of makeup was removed from my skin. That being completed I sunk back into the bed and was soon sound asleep.

The alarm was persistent, although I do not remember setting it before I crawled into bed. The breasts did cause a change in my sleep configuration, my old way of sleeping on my stomach no longer feasible, much less comfortable. I slid out of bed, staggering to the bathroom, my nipples getting rock hard in the process since it was cool in the room. I used the facilities, flushed, then stood in front of the bathroom mirror and stared at the image before me.

I decided to skip any shower this morning, my mind probably not able to handle soaping up my breasts or vagina, gawd even thinking about it made me sprout a million goose pimples.

I shed the nightie, then dressed in the uniform of my new job, trying my best to get the uniform to cover more than it was doing. The stockings were probably the worst, as they slid up my legs I could swear I was becoming wet down there. The bra was a joke; two small patches of fabric and three pieces of lacy elastic was all there was to it. The rest of the uniform was a gauze/lace concoction that covered up just enough to keep us from being classified as strippers but left absolutely nothing from being seen. Even though I was dressed my nipples were standing out a mile, and hard, so hard I could feel them ache to be touched.

I debated grabbing something to eat, but decided against it, my nerves already on edge, I didn’t need a queasy stomach on top of everything else. The salon was next on my schedule, way too much hair to deal with and not the slightest idea of what to do with it. I did manage to get a brush through it, so I didn’t look like death warmed over as I made my way to the salon.

The gals at the salon were waiting for me, huge smiles greeted me as I entered the salon. My hair was handled promptly, and they made a few adjustments to my clothes, then glossed up the appropriate areas of my makeup. New earrings this afternoon, a bracelet that kept sliding up and down my wrist, and a necklace that settled comfortably in the cleavage of my uniform. As I made my way up front to check out who did I find waiting for me?

Yep, Mary was all smiles as she grabbed my hand, and we made our way to the casino. Incidentally she was dressed as a cocktail waitress too, doing her part to fill in. She informed me that a few of the honored guests had showed up early, so we had our work cut out for us. As we entered the main casino, there seemed to be wall to wall people. I glanced at Mary; she just smirked then stepped up to a couple of the gamblers playing twenty-one.

So, I guess my new job has already started. I found another table of enthused gamblers playing poker and squeezed in between a couple of them. When one of them looked up at me I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then a shoulder rub. He grabbed me when I kissed his cheek, but I twisted loose pointing to his cards, and he resumed his interest in the game. I did pretty well for the first hour, then realized I had become pretty popular. Several of the gamblers that I had flirted with were calling my name wanting me to join them again, since when I was around, they seemed to be winning.

I did get grabbed often, with a few drinks in them they wanted more than just a shoulder massage or a peck on the cheek. I did experience several passionate kisses, tongue included and had more than my fair share of breast fondling. I tried to minimize the contact and passionate kisses but couldn’t just slap them and walk away. So, a lot of twisting and turning, then my finger waving about telling them no-no. Five hours later the second shift of waitresses came in, and we got a break for a while.

This time I was the one to grab a hold of Mary and drag her to one of the restaurants. As we entered, we were led to one of their banquet rooms where they had set up a buffet, for the employees. I did grab something to eat, mostly food that might replace some of the energy I had expelled earlier. I did watch what I drank, knowing that the more I drank the more I would be making visits to the little girl’s room.

I nibbled on my food, Mary sitting across from me watching me carefully. I had lots of questions for her, but not sure where to start. After several minutes of silence, she decided to take the lead, explaining what she had planned with regards to me.

Let’s face it you turned out much better than I expected. Vickie has lost her title of sexiest cocktail waitress, that honor solely yours. The way you handled yourself in the last few hours just proves that you were wasted in your old job. As far as the casino and myself is concerned you will be a cocktail waitress from now on.

I will see to the disposal of your old apartment; you can stay at your company apartment rent free as long as you work here. Now to add to all these revelations after the high rollers leave, I am being promoted to head of personnel for the entire company, this leaves my current job vacant. I have already turned in the paperwork for you to replace me at this casino. You can still work your shifts as a cocktail waitress, then in your spare time handle any personnel problems as needed.

I don’t want you swayed by any sweet-talking high rollers, as they try and seduce you or drag you away from us. I have purchased a chastity belt especially for you and placed it in your room. I will be by later to help you with it, and to make sure it fits you properly. I intend to keep the key, since I have a personal interest in preserving your virginity.

Other than when I am on the other coast, I have the adjoining room to yours, so I will be able to make sure you remember who loves you and who will see to your sexual needs. No need to thank me, but I would like to exercise my stake in you, so close your eyes and pucker up.

I felt her lips on mine and her tongue entering my mouth. Her hands were playing with my nipples, and I quickly started moaning as her body pressed up against mine. The fondling lasted forever, when she finally backed away, I was out of breath and panting.

The chastity belt fit way too snugly, it taking Mary almost an hour to get me into it properly. When the lock clicked, I swallowed hard, but soon was moaning as her lips attacked mine and my nipples became rock hard. After I was assaulted for the second time today, we lay on my bed holding each other tightly.

I thought of what I had become, happy to be a sexy flirtatious cocktail waitress now. A life so special and diverse and a lover who simply adores me.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Gloria, What To Do With My Purse

I was sitting in the front lobby of my wife’s beauty salon. The Turnabout Gurl Salon recently changed hands, now a prestigious salon that oozes femininity. A typical late Friday afternoon occurrence with me, now something I look forward to since they have changed hands.

The décor has changed, the uniforms the stylists wear have been upgraded, and their level of business has doubled. So much to see now, the stylists new dress a work of art. Brief, lacy, form fitting and along with some towering high heels a real sight to take in.

My wife and I were going to dinner, then to a movie later. Since her salon is on the other side of town, near where we usually eat at, this has become a normal Friday afternoon activity. I usually left her at the salon, then spent some time at the mall browsing the stores. That is after I took in the sights of the salon, a most fascinating place.

Even when I came back to pick her up, I always arrived early so that I could spend a few more moments observing and watching them perform their miracles. Today, however it was pouring down rain so I decided that staying at the salon might be drier, plus a convenient excuse to see more of what happens here.

Mary returned a few minutes later asking me to hold her purse. Now for a normal male holding your significant other’s purse is like a death sentence. I blushed red, as I immediately looked down at my feet. Mary leaned down making me look at her and then kissed me on the lips.

There now all is better, that is what she hoped, but I was still staring at the purse sitting in my lap, its bright pink color like a beacon on a foggy coast. It is patent leather, all shiny with a matching leather strap.

I looked around to see if anybody was looking at me, afraid that everyone would assume the purse is mine. An obvious male in a beauty salon, and with his purse on his lap, no less.

Mary returned to her stylist; I touched the purse trying to see if I moved it to my side, would it be less noticeable. Wrong, now it looked like the purse was mine, and not my wife’s. I moved it back and forth several times, trying to find some way to hide it from everyone’s sight.

Finally, a lady that was very impressive by her height alone came over and sat next to me. She must have been at least five foot ten inches, but with her heels she was well over six feet. She was gorgeous, hair and makeup immaculate. As she sat down next to me she crossed her legs at the knees, making even more of her fantastic legs visible. She reached over to grab my hand, holding it in her hands tenderly.

“I see you are having some difficulty figuring out what to do with your purse. I did not catch your name, but I presume you are here with Mary, might I suggest a relaxing manicure for you while you wait. There are no strings attached, and my treat.”

She was holding my hand waiting for me to tell her my name. The name Gregg stumbled out of my mouth, in a voice barely above a whisper. Why is it so hard to talk to this lady?

“Well Gregg, let’s see if we can keep you occupied while your wife gets her hair done.” With that she stood, pulled on my hand and led me back to an office in the back of the salon. I followed with my wife’s purse in my right hand. As we entered the office, she picked up the phone and dialed a number asking the person answering to come to her office for a nail makeover. Before I could respond to the offer I was seated in a comfortable chair, the purse back in my lap.

Kayla, the manicurist, was setting up her tools on a table in front of me, suggesting that I put my purse on a shelf under her table. I managed to get the purse on the shelf, my hand shaking noticeably as I placed it on the shelf.

Why does everyone presume the purse is mine?

My statuesque friend told me she would tell Mary where I was at, not to worry my pretty little head. I tried to speak up again, but she just laid a finger on my lips, telling me to just relax and enjoy the nail makeover. As she walked away, her words about ‘my pretty little head’ were now consuming all of my limited brain resources.

Kayla was fantastic, her massaging of my hands, and then cleaning my nails left me almost ready to drop off. She had filed my nails into neat ovals, since I hate to trim my nails, I had let them get much longer than normal. Then she applied a clear coat to each individual nail making them shine.

My hands were placed under a UV light, the heat and light making the polish harden. Then another coat of polish, it looked pinkish, but by then my mind was drowsy, and half asleep. Again, under the light, then another coat of the pinkish polish.

By then I was getting sleepy my head drooped to one side. I was still getting tingly feelings up and down my arms, even though the massage was earlier in the process. It somehow felt so good, the feelings and my half-asleep awareness just adding to the situation.

The tall lady returned, picking up one of my hands and inspecting the nails. I became aware of her presence suddenly, my brief nap now over with.

“That is much better, now Mary will be proud to be seen with you. In fact, her she comes now.”

It took me a moment or two to fully wake up and be aware of my surroundings, then as I looked down at my nails, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. I opened them again when I didn’t hear any screaming or commotion. I had beautiful nails, very pink and extremely bright and shiny.

After pulling me up from the chair, Mary took her purse, placed it over my shoulder, with my one hand on it to keep it from swinging. Then she locked her arm with my free arm and we walked out of the salon. I was almost to the car when I managed to get a word out. It had stopped raining, although it was still a little windy and much cooler than when we arrived.

“My nails I can’t go out like this, what will people say.”

Mary stopped and faced me, put her face right up next to mine and whispered in my ear.

“They will think the nails are beautiful. Now come on, I don’t want to miss our dinner reservation.”

Mary ended up driving, I was in no condition to handle any kind of equipment, much less drive. I tried to get her to head home, this was too much for me, I was having trouble getting a breath, my heart was racing and my hands were shaking.

When we got to the restaurant Mary told me she would fix things for me, I was expecting that we might forego the dinner, and then head home, instead she reached into my purse and retrieved a lipstick. She then applied lipstick to my lips, then a moment later a second coat.

She then proceeded to drag me out of the car. My purse again placed on my shoulder.

As she clicked the locks on the key chain I was now locked out of the car with no place to go and hide. Since she was in possession of the keys I was stuck. I pleaded with her, but she grabbed my hand and we were soon seated in the restaurant that damn purse of hers still hanging on my shoulder.

Our usual waitress arrived, greeted both of us, then looked at my nails. I had forgotten to keep them out of sight, now she had already seen them and was commenting on how pretty they were.

Of course I was bright red, way too much blood now in the top part of my body. I quickly made a fist trying to hide my decidedly pink nails.

Too late now one of the other waitresses came over wanting to see my nails. Mary pulled my hands up and made me splay them so they could see my nails as both ladies’ ooh’d and awed. I guess that was what was causing my whole body to tingle, a condition that had never occurred before.

How does a male react to being told his nails are pretty? Probably the same way I did total silence with my eyes locked on a spot on the floor.

I ended up having to tell them where I had them done at, since they asked several times. Mary had to prod me to answer them, the words somehow stuck in my throat. The first waitress wanted to know the name of the polish since she decided she wanted hers done in the same color. I had thought the name of the polish was picturesque, A Pinkish Sunrise at Dawn, I could even picture it in my mind.

When I first became aware of the light pink polish Kayla had told me the name, for some reason it sunk into my befuddled mind. I heard the name and it registered in my mind, but I never considered telling her I didn’t want polish on my nails. At least, one that is so pink and glossy.

That meal was so unreal, the waitress and I carried on a conversation all during the meal, treating me like she usually treats Mary, like a female. Surprisingly the lipstick I was wearing was never commented on, I am sure it would be quite obvious to anyone looking at me.

I did relax some, until someone was looking in my direction. My head swiveling around quite often to see if I was being stared at. I was able to eat some of my dinner, hoping that we would go home instead of to the movies.

Well hoping and what happened seemed miles apart today. Since Mary was driving, she headed right to the movie theater and parked in their lot. I was shaking my head no, fearing more attention like I received at the restaurant.

We settled on some seats towards the back of the movie theater, it was quiet back here, hardly any people in the theater, those attending mostly setting down front. Mary cuddled up next to me laying my head on her shoulder with her arm around my shoulders pulling me in tighter to her body. It was not lost on me that is the way I often held Mary in the past.

I eventually relaxed some more, even falling asleep during the last few minutes of the movie.

Mary made me drive home, since I had already taken several short naps during the movie and would be well rested. That also meant I had to look at my polished fingernails as I maneuvered the steering wheel. We did make it, although my concentration was not solely on my driving, but on my pretty pink nails gripping the steering wheel.

As we walked into the house, I promised myself that I would get an appointment tomorrow to get the polish off, this can’t keep going on. Mary led me into the house and directly to our bedroom where I was quickly undressed. She pushed me back on the bed and lay on top of me. It happened so suddenly that I was giddy with excitement. I actually let out a small giggle.

Mary’s actions definitely turning me on. Right in my line of sight, was my purse on the bed post wrapped around the top ball. I had no idea if I had placed it there or if Mary had something to do with it.

I could swear the purse appeared happy, now that I was more into the role of a female. Imagine a purse seeming to be happy. I know for sure that what little of my mind that was left had stopped functioning.

Mary had done to me what I love to do to her, the circumstances now reversed. I just lay there, closing my eyes and letting my mind wander. I felt her mouth on my lips, her tongue making inroads. Then she attacked my ears and eyes, I have never been kissed on my eyes and ears before, but it is a delightful experience.

I doubted my goose pimples could get any bigger, then a feeling deep inside started to form. It built up and then up some more, threatening to totally wipe out any activity in my mind. A pinch on one of my male nipples, sent me over the top, wave after wave of total bliss cascaded over me leaving me spent and totally incoherent.

I swear if I could utter anything it would just be gibberish. I have never had an orgasm without my male organ being touched, a first for me and thinking back a most delightful experience. I wonder if that makes me less than a male, surely men only have releases when their penis is handled or inserted in some type of receptacle. I instantly thought of Mary’s vagina, and of course my little fella responded by starting to get hard, again.

Alas that was not to be, Mary too wrapped up in playing with my nipples and kissing me to pay attention to him.

I was finally let up from the bed, made a mad dash to the bathroom, and tried to relieve my bladder. I also had to deal with a gooey mess in my shorts, quite a combination that required attention. It took me quite a while to relax, then relief as my bladder finally drained. My nails were visible during all of this, every time I moved my hands pretty pink nails came into view. Then I had to retrieve some clean underwear before I could return to bed.

As I made it back to bed, I mentioned that I needed to call and get an appointment to get the polish taken off tomorrow, the earlier the better.
She smiled. “That might be kind of difficult, since all of their technicians are booked solid. You got taken care of because someone canceled at the last moment. I can call Kayla tomorrow and see if you were set up with a weekly appointment like most of their customers. If so, she can do whatever you like come next Friday. Some longer extensions and a salmon polish might look good on you too. It will help accent your long fingers, making your arms look more feminine.”

“I really enjoyed our dinner and the movie; you were so nice and lovable leaning on me and letting me have my way with you. I am definitely looking forward to next Friday.”

I swallowed hard, how am I going to get out of this without upsetting my wife. We have always got along, but there have been times when harsh words were spoken, causing an icy relationship for several months. All of those times it was my mouth that had iced the waters, I definitely do not need another occurrence.

Mary does have a good memory, sometimes requiring quite a bit of time to forget, especially when I had originally committed the error. Maybe I can somehow deal with the nails for a while, not wanting to stir up the waters if I don’t have to.

At least, work should not be a problem since I am self-employed, doing research for professional writers both fiction and scientific. My personal contact with them is sporadic, maybe I can suffer through this for a couple of weeks, then when things have quieted down some, have the polish removed. I know a pipe dream, when things start to go awry, it seems it is all downhill after that.
I never got a chance to put on my pajamas that evening, so I ended up naked in bed except for my boxers, her body right next to me. Oh well, what a husband must put up with for his wife. A quick glance at my pink nails and I might need to edit the husband part.

I did manage to get some sleep, though Mary had a death grip on my body, cuddled behind me as close as she could get to me with both of her arms around my body pulling me closer to her. Her warm nipples boring holes in my back. I drifted off easily, being held like that quite comforting. Not a position that I had experienced much before.

Saturday was so-so, we did a few chores around the house. I am sure if anybody had seen me out mowing the lawn, with bright shiny pink nails I would be the talk of the neighborhood. I did wear gloves although it was way too hot for them, suffering in the heat to try and keep my nails a secret.

I did get some strange looks, mostly from a few ladies who were out for a walk. Since their eyes were focused on my gloves, I presume that was the reason for the strange looks. It had to be at least ninety in the yard, the sweat rolling off my face and body as I maneuvered the mower around the yard.

Luckily for me, most of the guys were off playing golf, I had seen them loading their golf clubs in their cars earlier. I did get discovered later in the day when Kay, one of Mary’s long-term friends, came wondering in. Being such good friends they usually just knock then enter each other’s house.

Unfortunately for me I was vacuuming the stairs, a chore I did sometimes for Mary when Kay walked in. She stood there unseen by me watching as I worked. Then she saw my nails and grabbed one of my hands to get a closer look. Once I saw what she was looking at I turned shades of red, hoping the vacuum would suck me up and I would not be left there facing her alone.

Kay had never been shy, as she grabbed my hand and pulled me up and then to the kitchen where Mary was working, leaving the vacuum still running on the stairs. My hand was shoved in front of Mary’s face, then Kay asked her where I had the manicure done at.

That was not the question I was anticipating from her.

They talked about my nails like I was not there, about the color and how much better my nails would look with extensions. Finally, she released my hand, and I made it back to shut off the vacuum while they were still talking. I wandered back to the kitchen, not wanting to leave the two alone for long when they seemed intent on making plans for me.

Mary had made some tea and placed three cups on the kitchen bar. Kay steered me onto one of the bar stools and we sipped tea and they talked. I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet. It was like I was one of them now, a woman talking about things that a female would be interested in.

I heard them calling a name Gloria, then silence. Are they calling me Gloria now, how Gregg can be morphed into Gloria that is definitely one for the experts to figure out. I looked in their direction as Mary is staring at me, trying hard to not break out in a giggling fit. Mary wanted me to go to our bedroom and get my purse and bring it to the kitchen. I started out in that direction, then abruptly stopped.

If I do, Kay will see that I also carry a purse around with me, another validation that suggests that I am less than a male. I looked at my pink nails, then headed to the bedroom to get my purse. Nails with pink polish or a purse, either of them just as condemning as the other. I was asked to get the bottle of polish out and show Kay, now another female wanting to use the same color of polish as I had on my nails. When I returned, I got the bottle of polish out and handed it to her.

Kay eventually left but wanted front row seats next Friday when I come home with the longer extensions that both of them suggested would look great on me. I pleaded with Mary to somehow stop this insanity and cancel my appointment for next Friday. Her only statement was what I would do if you didn’t go with me taking your purse. That will mean that I will have to carry one, you know I don’t have one that will match the dress that I am planning to wear, you’re the only one that has a purse that color.

Nope you will have to go, besides too many people want to see you with the extensions and the bright red polish. Somehow the salmon polish that was suggested earlier had been dumped in favor of a bright red polish.

“It will be a perfect match for the purse you know you want to take to the salon. In fact if you want you can borrow my skirt, the red pencil skirt that will complement the purse and tie your whole outfit together.”

I lowered my head, holding it between my hands and let out a huge sigh. I tried to figure out how I ended up in this predicament, that tall lady at the salon was the one that started it. From then on, it just seemed to mushroom, now I had serious doubts whether I could stop it.

I guess the polish on the nails kind of grows on you, a quick glance, they do look nice don’t they. Augh… now I am doing it.
I somehow made it through the week, Kay did come over often to keep me company, her words. I think she was just checking to see if I had found some way to remove the polish. I did look once through all of Mary’s things to see if I could find the polish remover I knew she owned but never did find it.

So, the polish remained, a constant reminder of my new status. All week I was treated as a female by Mary, her having her way with me several times. The last time I spurted all over the place when she sucked on my fingers while rubbing my groin. I turned many shades of red at that experience, it was hours before my complexion returned to a somewhat normal color.

I ended up naked most nights, Mary not wanting my old PJ’s on her lover’s body, her words. I did get used to her cuddling me, most nights her warm pointy nipples probing my back. I guess it could have been worse, but by the end of the week I was getting too comfortable with the nails and with my new relationship with Mary in bed.

Finally, Friday arrived and I managed to get out of the house in my normal clothes, but of course my purse was ever apparent. Today my purse was a red leather bag with a gold chain strap. I did manage to avoid wearing Mary’s skirt that matched the purse I was using, thankfully.

At the salon I was welcomed by the tall lady, who I learned was Francine. The bear hug she greeted me with felt good, as she held on to me for several minutes. Then she took me back to a private room and Kayla was already setting up to do my manicure. I saw some pieces of nails laying on her table, I presume the extensions Mary and Kay were anxious for me to have.

They seemed so long, I swallowed hard, but no excuse came to mind for me to avoid getting them. I turned around to the door to see if Mary had followed us. Maybe if she hasn’t, I could make up some kind of excuse for not getting them. Well karma is a bitch; Mary was there smiling holding a bottle of bright red polish that she handed to Kayla. Kayla mentioned that it was a new gel polish, semi-permanent after it is applied.

A bigger smile lit Mary’s face, I quietly sat down in the chair, waiting for my manicure. I have to figure out what I did wrong, this is just getting worse by the minute. My karma must be nil right now, that is if I had any to start with. With the things that have happened so far, I doubt there was any karma involved to start with, my account now probably overdrawn.

It took Kayla over two hours to add the extensions and the five coats of polish; each coat of polish baked under a UV light to make it harden. At each coat I felt my small amount of masculinity slipping away a little further. My hands looked so feminine, even in male clothes my gender would be in doubt. The extensions extended past my fingertips by at least three quarters of an inch, making doing anything with my hands very difficult. It was ironic that the only thing it did not affect was me slipping the purse strap over my shoulder when we left.

I had given up on calling it Mary’s purse, since I carried it around more than she did. It was my purse, whenever the two of us went anywhere as it was on my shoulder. I even had different ones to use when what I wore required a different color to coordinate. At all times my ID and wallet were in the purse along with Mary’s. Even two tubes of lipstick, although I managed to escape wearing mine most of the time.

Francine examined my nail job as we were checking out, a bigger smile could not be etched on her face. She had the receptionist add to my appointment next week a full body wax, my arm hair especially distracting to my appearance. I started to say something but thought better of it. With my karma this bad, I would probably end up with boobs and arched eyebrows to go along with the waxed arms.

I was woman-handled again as soon as we got home, at least I didn’t have to suffer through dinner and a movie. Undressed and laid back on the bed and that was where I stayed for the next three hours. We took showers together, then I was cuddled in bed, her holding me tightly against her. At least, that part was welcome. I dozed off right away, a sound sleep dreaming of my first makeover with cosmetics and a pair of heels. Oh well, an overactive imagination does have to be put up with.

By the time of my next appointment Mary had bought me four new purses, each one filling a need for matching a color of clothes that I wore. I had also been out dressed in one of her skirts, a maneuver she managed one afternoon.

Around the house she had got me to wear one of her skirts. Before you ask yes panties underneath. Boxers are just so gross with a fitted skirt. Anyway, she comes rushing in from work, wanting me to get my purse, she needs a business suit for tomorrow, a surprise meeting of her company’s board of directors and she is going to be making one of the presentations to the board.

Of course, I am happy for her because she has worked hard these last few years to make inroads at her work. Now it looks like all her hard work was starting to pay off.

Anyway after getting my purse we got in the car and were off to the mall. Mary drove knowing where she wanted to shop at. We parked next to the mall entrance closest to her destination.

It was as we were walking into the store, a few stores from the mall entrance we parked at, that I realized I was still in a skirt. I applied the brakes, a problem when Mary is holding my other hand. She turned abruptly, looking my way wanting to know what the problem was.

I pointed to my skirt, the red already engulfing my face. Mary’s solution was for me to open my purse and take out my lipstick. I did and was holding it in my hand, not really wanting to apply it right in the middle of the mall. But if I waited for Mary to apply it, it would probably be worse since other women usually do not apply their girlfriend’s lipstick.

Oh gawd, I am now considering the relationship between Mary and I as girlfriends.

I applied it, not sure it would show up much against my already red face. I put the tube back in my purse and was led into the store. An hour later we had found a business suit with the cutest pencil skirt for Mary, its light tan color looking good with her complexion. The skirt’s hem was inches above her knees, just right to accent and flatter her gorgeous legs.

Unfortunately, Mary also found some clothes for me. Once she had handled her pressing need, she turned her attention to me. I tried to dissuade her, but the smile she had plastered on her face as she held one garment after another up against me, persuaded me to keep quiet and let her have her fun.

Her items came to about two hundred and fifty dollars, whereas mine was almost five hundred dollars. To top it off I had to pay with my charge card, taken from my purse. The card with my male name emblazoned on it. I resolved to straighten things out tonight once we got home and had eaten. As fast as this is escalating, no telling what condition I will be in a few months.

On the way home Mary stopped for some carry-out. No problem for her, send in her girlfriend with the purse to retrieve the meal. So with the food in hand, I made my way back to the car. I got a kiss for my efforts, it was definitely a kiss to remember, I swear my lips were hot after the encounter, not warm but steaming hot. Who knew a kiss could last that long? We eventually made it home, but the food did have to be warmed up some to be eaten.

We finished the goodies, then cleaned up some. I grabbed Mary’s hand and led her to the living room. I parked her butt on the sofa and sat right next to her, holding both of her hands so she could not make an escape. She giggled, taking you long enough to build up the nerve to corner me about the purse thing. I was hushed when I tried to state my opinion on the matter.

“Let’s just cut to the crux of the problem. You are and have been envious of me and my femininity. The way you look at my clothing, the sighs that accompany those looks are most pathetic.

Even Francine at the salon saw it when you used to drop me off or come to pick me up. She observed that longing to be dressed as some of the other women or have a pretty hairdo like they do. We conspired to get you to experience some of that feeling. The day you stayed at the salon to keep from getting drenched in the rain a perfect lead into our plan.”

“You never bowed up like a normal male would do when receiving polish on his nails. Then at the restaurant and later at the movie you acted like a female letting me hold you even put lipstick on you. I saw the smile that you tried to hide from me, a sure sign of your enjoyment.

Even today while we were shopping, I saw the envious looks you were giving the clothing while I was finding my business suit. I saw where you were looking and visited those areas holding up pieces of clothing to your body. A normal male would have been out the door and halfway to his car, no matter what his wife said.”

“Then we have the purse issue, the most telling reason of all. Name me one of our male friends that has ever donned a purse on his shoulder or even carried one in his hands. The excuse of me not wanting to carry a purse you bought into even though it is so ridiculous. There again show me one female that does not carry a purse, even to go to the lady’s room. Now, let’s resolve this right now.”

“Gregg no longer exists; I want nothing to do with him anymore. Gloria is the real you, always has been. I want you to pack up all of your male clothes, put them in the car and take them to Goodwill. Be sure to get a receipt for them so that I know that you did as I asked. You will do this yourself, with no help from me.”

“Then tomorrow morning you need to call Francine and tell her that Gloria needs an appointment for a total transformation to the female gender. Again, something you and only you need to do. After your transformation pick out something nice from their boutique to wear. Pay the bill and then drive to my workplace, asking to speak to the new CEO. I will be expecting you before three PM.”

“After getting rid of those nasty male clothes, get cleaned up and put on the nightie lying on the bed and I will see to your ravaging promptly thereafter. Come on gurl, time is a wasting.”

I was almost to the bedroom when all she had told me finally sunk in. I was sad, a few tears running down my cheeks then the rest of what she had said finally made it to my befuddled mind. I stopped, went back to the kitchen and grabbed a bunch of garbage bags and headed for the bedroom. Twenty minutes later all of my male clothes had made it into the bags, and into my car.

I started to get into the car, then remembered what I was wearing.

Back to the bedroom, stripped off my last few male clothes, then donned a blouse and skirt, brushed my hair and used a lipstick to color my otherwise bland lips. Those last few male clothes made it to the bags being dropped off. I reached for my purse and headed to the garage. Once at Goodwill I had plenty of help to unload the bags of my male clothing, the guys helping me eyeing me up as they removed the bags.

An hour later I was back, found the nightie and adjourned to the bathroom. A quick shower, although a bath seemed like a better idea and dried off. I slipped on the nightie, wondering if I needed panties too. I will have to ask Mary. As I made it to the bedroom all of the lights were off, just a few candles in the corners of the room. I felt my way to the bed and was dragged down on top of her.

I was giggling away as she grabbed my penis and massaged it. Yep, there will be no need for panties tonight. It was a long night, I lost memory of how many times I spurted that night, I do know my penis was sore the next morning, sore but extremely happy.

I did make the call the next morning and then had to hurry, Francine is ready to take me as soon as I could get to the salon. It was a whirlwind of activity as I was greeted at the door and taken to one of the treatment rooms.

In no time I was naked, and a cream had been spread all over my body. Thirty minutes later I was hairless and not just for the short term. My scraggly facial hair was treated the same and now shaving would be a thing of the past for me. I was in a daze, the air on my smooth soft skin had affected my mind, the goose pimples seemed to be forming fast and furious.

Before I knew what was happening, the tech whose name was Sheila had locked a petite cage around junior, locking it and placing the key on a necklace around her neck. I stared at her, but she just smiled, Mary wanted this done right away, since you are her gurl now, and she will see to your sexual needs at her discretion. I looked in the mirror closely, my male organ now petite and pathetic in his new home, the heart shaped lock dangling for all to see.

My attention now centered on my chest where two squiggly blobs of flesh were glued over my nipples. My hands were placed over the blobs and told to keep them there until the glue dries. I was hesitant and moved my hands a little trying to hold them but just barely touching them. To my surprise I could feel every brush of my hand over the nipple of my new breasts, causing even more problems for my overworked mind.

In the meantime, my eyebrows were almost done away with, now pencil thin highly arched lines over my now decidedly feminine eyes. Makeup applied to my face left no remains of Gregg in the image in the mirror in front of me. The lipstick in particular was bright red in color and so glossy. Later I learned it was long lasting, guaranteed to last through the most ardent kissing session and beyond.

Clothes were next, the breasts now felt better since they were nestled in a gorgeous bra, helping to minimize the constant movement. A padded pantie to help shape my derriere and hide my caged penis. It seemed so small now, trapped in his little plastic pink cage, looking cute and not very manly. Stockings with elasticized tops, and a pair of four-inch heels completed the underwear. A business suit similar to what Mary bought slipped on to my body, then I was made to practice walking without tripping in my heels.

They worked on my hair today just using a curling iron, later in the week a separate appointment just for the things Mary wanted done to my tresses. I will have to get used to the curls dangling over my ears and neck, something else to drive my already overworked senses crazy.

There was no Gregg in the person that left the salon just after two PM. I drove to her office and asked to speak to the CEO. I had wondered why Mary wanted me to speak to the CEO, what that person had got to do with Mary and me. I was shown into the CEO’s office as the light finally came on.

I saw her in her new suit and took off running to meet her. I misjudged my speed and the skirt I was wearing, ending up flying right over her desk landing on her lap. Mary was giggling away as I tried to stand up again. I definitely need more practice in the heels.

She twisted and turned trying to see my new look, finally deciding to kiss me to get me to calm down. Her secretary closed the door, giggling away as she did so. Mary made me disengage from her, wanting to see how I turned out. From the smile and grin on her face, I must have turned out okay.

I managed to congratulate her on her promotion, I know something she had worked hard for ever since she was hired here. She is very intelligent, often times straightening out other employee’s messes. I guess someone had noticed her efforts and made some changes.

She had a couple of things she still needed to do today, so I sat on her sofa, practicing crossing my legs and applying lipstick. With Mary around I am sure the lipstick application technique would need to be perfected. Mary came to get me, wanting to know what I was fixing for dinner tonight. Huh, was all that emerged from my lips.

“Look sweetheart of mine, since I am the wage earner here now, you are the housewife, catering to my needs and keeping me stress free and happy. The house is now yours to maintain, making it cozy and welcoming to your spouse. Eventually when we have kids you will be raising them like a proud mother should, while still keeping your loving spouse happy and contended. Now what are you fixing for dinner tonight?”

I pouted then started to complain about having to fix dinner.

“Since you look so pretty, maybe even beautiful, I guess I can make an exception for one night and take you out to dinner.”

Proving I was a fast learner I hit her in the shoulder, ‘maybe even beautiful’ my ass, seven hours suffering to look like this, you can fix your own dinner tonight for all I care. She was laughing as she pulled me reluctantly into her embrace. By the time our breasts were touching I was eager for her kiss, making all of this seem worthwhile somehow. My cute little caged sex toy was eager to see some action too.

I grabbed my purse and we headed for the door, some food to fuel the fires then I wanted to get home, I had things to do and a spouse to keep happy. It all started with a purse and progressed to a life of feminine delights. Yes, Mary keeps the key to my caged male member on a necklace around her neck, you can never tell when she might desire what it keeps secure.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Melody, Bikini Time

There were lots of relatives I never saw or have met before. I was amazed we even had this many people related to us somehow. Since Mom had the bigger family, more of them had showed up for the family reunion. Her family mostly lived in the area while Dad’s were spread out across the country. For some reason Mom’s sisters and brothers seemed to have more female children, most of them about my age.

The reunion was held at a local water park, where they had an area reserved for family reunions. The family had rented the reunion site for three days, allowing the ones that lived farther away time to travel here and not have to turn around and drive back after only one day. The local families arranged to provide a place to stay, although sleeping bags on living room rugs were the norm. They also arranged to do the cooking, a large lunch/dinner served at about two in the afternoon every day. Hot dogs and hamburgers were offered all day for those wanting them.

The facility had lots of trees for shade, several fancy barbecues built out of stone, and of course a huge pool and water slide. This part of the park was separate from the public area, perfect for large family reunions. From the number of people here for the first day, we would definitely qualify as a larger reunion. The younger children were already in and out of the pool, several frustrated parents giving up on making them wait until after we had eaten.

Meanwhile I was enjoying the scenery, almost every teen female clad in a bikini, most of which covered very little. Believe me, I am not complaining one bit. Several of the younger boys were horsing around, trying to untie the strings holding the bikini pieces together. Their intent was to get a glimpse of a breast or even better a pussy. The girls managed to stay in groups, helping to protect each other from losing part of their bathing suit.

Then several of the older boys decided that participating might be advantageous, that breast or pussy well worth the risk of getting caught. They were more subtle, talking with the girls then as they started to walk away grabbing a string and yanking hard. In most cases, the bow holding the bikini on came loose, or the fabric ripped leaving the bikini piece unable to cover anything. Of course, a loud squeal from the female alerted every one of their deed.

I was never included in anything at school, a natural loner. I desperately wanted to be included so I watched closely, then decided to try my luck at what they were doing. The boys were somewhat successful, frequent glimpses of female anatomy were observed during the day. The girls were quick to cover up, their girlfriends helping to repair the damage when possible or providing a cover up if needed. I think the girls enjoyed the attention, since there was no effort to cover up more.

I joined a group of girls, one of which was a fellow classmate. I talked with them acting interested in what they said, even making a comment or two that showed I agreed with what they were saying. I probably waited too long, my nerves frazzled, my palms sweaty and my breathing ragged.

Then I caught one of the boys looking my way, his friends also riveted on my actions. He made a clucking noise, insinuating I was chicken to do what they had done. I lost any common sense I might have had and reached out and grabbed at the bow on one of the girls’ bikinis. It was larger than the other girl’s bows, situated right in the middle of her back, an easy target for my shaky hands. Instead of getting a hold on one of the strings, I ended up grabbing at the entire bow. I jerked hard as I felt the bow rip from the bikini. The girl screamed, surprised at my action.

Several of the girls helped her to cover up, while the rest of the girls latched on to me. I started apologizing for my actions, fearing what they might do to me. I struggled a little, but the girls had a firm grip on my arms. The girls did not even try to apprehend one of the other boys when they pulled their prank but caught me easily.

Then I saw my Mom heading my way, the look on her face not pleasant. She talked with the girl that I had attempted my prank on, then the rest of the girls. Meanwhile I was held firmly, too far away from the others to hear what was being said. I saw several of the girls use their phones to call someone but again could not hear what was discussed. Finally, the girl that was a fellow classmate, handed her phone to my Mom, the smirk on her face from ear to ear. Mom talked on the phone for several minutes, a smile coming to her face after she hung up.

I was led away to the bathrooms, four girls escorting me there. Taken into the ladies bathroom and stripped of my clothes. Then handed a pair of panties, the girls waiting for me to pull them up my legs. I was more than embarrassed, my stomach rumbling, tears about to spout from my eyes. The girls made sure the panties were on me and snug, stopping often to look at their handiwork. I was handed a girl’s tee shirt, and a short skirt. I was not going to put them on, but soon I found myself wearing them anyway.

Out to the mirrors and some lipstick applied to my lips, then back out to the reunion. Mom waiting for me to reappear, checking me out then dragging me back to my family. She seemed pleased, but I was kept close to her for the remainder of the day. The boys’ pranks with the bikinis quickly stopped my appearance was enough of a deterrent to keep them from doing any more.

I stayed close to anyone I could, my mom or sister who I usually hung on to like a shadow. I did not want to be alone dressed as I was. I skipped eating anything, my stomach still making flip flops. I never did see my male clothes, my I.D., wallet and keys also disappearing. I quickly figured there was not going to be any escape from this predicament until we returned home. At least, we left nearly two hours earlier than Mom had announced when we arrived. When we pulled up outside a beauty salon, I feared that my day would soon get much worse.

I was dragged inside, Mom telling them I had an appointment, and going over what was to be done to me. I was taken back to the treatment room, my few clothes removed with Mom giving me a hug and telling me she would come back to pick me up at ten this evening. I got a kiss on the forehead and she was gone, my clothes that I wore there going with her.

I stood there, mouth open and about to have a mental breakdown. I was already leaking tears, all of this just too much for my mind to process. I was laid back on a table, a wet washcloth placed over my eyes and the lady that was going to work on me holding my hands and trying to soothe me a little. She told me what they were going to do, nothing permanent but I will have to live with the changes for several months. My mind heard about the non-permanent part, but the rest just went in one ear and out the other.
I calmed down a little, her voice reassuring and the washcloth over my eyes soothing. I felt her start to do things to my body but totally zoned out. I felt a cream spread over my body, then a little while later it was wiped off. She placed something on my chest with me feeling the weight of the objects instantly.

Not knowing what she had done I had no idea of what she was trying to accomplish and truthfully, I didn’t want to find out. Things were done to my groin a little later, as something was glued over the area. Junior did get handled but I quickly put that fact out of my mind, not wanting to think about anything dealing with what was being done to my penis.

If it had stopped there things might have been livable with, a term my mind was trying to convince me of. My ears were pierced and makeup applied to my face after she worked on my eyebrows. The washcloth was removed when needed, then I was helped up to a sitting position, the image in the mirror in front of me was shocking. I looked like my sister only prettier.

While I was trying to come to terms with my new image, the top part of a bikini was put around my chest, the strings tied off behind my back. If only I had not tried to join in with the other boys, but I did and I am now paying the price for doing so. I am now wearing what I was trying to remove earlier at the reunion. The things I was trying to get a glimpse of now residing on my chest, two sizable weights on my chest that are constantly moving around.

That wasn’t the only thing done to me, upon looking further down my body I now had a pussy, a cute slit surrounded by two puffy lips. I tried to faint, but failed, staring at my new configuration and leaking loads of tears. I blinked several times hoping that the image would not be there when my eyes focused again. No such luck.

Mom did make it back to pick me up, her smile ear to ear at the image I now presented. Out to the car, I was informed of what will happen for the next three months.

“I think we have found the perfect way to teach you a valuable lesson of life. For the next three months you are going to be a female, one that will be wearing a bikini constantly wherever you go. For church and a fancy dinner out, it will be a dress, but all the rest of the time a bikini. Your classmates will make sure you are out among your fellow students, both males and females.

If you participate fully, we will hold the time spent in a bikini to the three months. Failure to join in enthusiastically and the female clothes and lifestyle will prevail, even school as a female if necessary. Hopefully you will learn something from this, otherwise your life as a member of the female gender is assured. I do think the name Melody suits you, so from his day forward you are Melody, my youngest daughter. We have two days of the reunion left, so decide if you are going to join in, if not the other girls have a few ideas they want to try out on you.”

I went to my room as soon as we got home, although I had to get past a house full of relatives, all wanting to see how Melody turned out. The males laughed at my predicament, while the girls gave me hugs and compliments. My room had been changed, I was now in with my sister, not a stitch of male clothing anywhere. I did get out of the bikini, although the silky nightie did nothing to make me feel less girly.
I did notice in my closet there was now quite an assortment of bikinis each hanging on a separate hanger. The only other clothing in the closet was two dresses and assorted lingerie on the shelves to the side of the closet. I counted the number of bikinis, twenty-seven in bright flowery colors and designs. The one that I pulled out to get a closer look at was quite skimpy, not much more than three pieces of fabric joined together with string and ribbons.

I laid awake for quite some time, thinking of the upcoming days, even sis coming in and undressing to put on her nightie not causing any reaction from me. She did come over to my bed, giving me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her only comment to me was it is so unfair, her nerdy brother turning out prettier than her. She did adjust my own nightie, a tender hug given as she helped me into bed. Then a pinch on my breast as she ran giggling to her own bed. I smiled even if the pinch had hurt something awful. I was being treated as her sister, her terrible brother no longer present.

The rest of the reunion was quite subdued, all the young males now behaving themselves due to what had happened to me. I did get a look at lots of breasts and pussy during the remaining two days, the other girls taking me with them when they had to use the bathroom. Not something I wanted anymore since I now had the same breasts and pussy as they did. Then there is the change to go to the bathroom. Sitting instead of standing is quite a learning experience for me. Each time I went it drove home the fact that I was now a female. A female with sizable breasts and a pussy that felt so real.

The girls at the reunion made sure I was included in everything they did never left alone. I was even made to join in on their conversations, even if the topic was boys. They tried to make me flirt a little, one boy they deemed a perfect choice for a boyfriend. I had to fix my lipstick often, constantly adjust the straps on my bikini and frequently lean over to give him a better view of my cute ass. Unfortunately, it was rather cute, rivaling any of the other girls.

When we got back home, I hoped for a little less involvement with the female sex, but a day at the local pool convinced me that being around females was much preferred to being with a bunch of boys. My friend took me shopping often, the bikini still my predominant clothing but with a lacy cover up over the bikini.

I gained several more female friends, mostly girls from my class at school. That meant even more being out and about as we shopped, snacked at the local hangout and otherwise made our presence known. The girls wanting to be seen, their brief clothing choices meant to attract some male attention. Since I was with them more attention for me. The girls often had considerably more clothes than I had on, even though I was somewhat covered.

Mom never relented in her punishment; all of my thirty-five bikinis being worn overtime. Yes, she had purchased more bikinis for me, a huge smile on her face after shopping, as she handed me another bikini for my collection.

Then we had the first time I went to church. Although I thought wearing bikinis was bad, the bra, panties, slips, stockings, a garter belt and the dress were much worse. In the past, I had only attended Sunday school, but now that and the main church service, plus socializing afterward, was required of me. Then home and back in a bikini. I did feel more comfortable in the bikini these days, having worn one so much. I doubt I will escape wearing one in the future, the girls I am friends with donning one every chance they get. It is bikini time quite often, a fact that I now enjoy immensely.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Patricia, Doing It For Love

I was out shopping with my wife, an ordeal that I was not really comfortable with, but one that I thought necessary. My wife of five years is drop dead gorgeous, but dresses like a librarian sometimes. She has C cup breasts, a 38/28/38 figure and a face that belongs on the cover of fashion magazines.

She was a cosmetologist for a while when we first married and knows how to make the most of what she has been born with. Now she is an executive secretary for a prominent lawyer in town.

With the name of Tiffany, she will always be the focus of my attention, the name just fits her to a tee. She is very confident in herself, a trait that was obvious when she applied for her present job.

She runs the lawyer’s office where she works with ease, keeping everything scheduled and right on time. She has been on that job for seven months now and has received three pay raises in that time span. Mr. Lawrence, the lawyer, considers her invaluable and has her sit in at all of his client meetings and depositions.

If I could just get her to dress sexier and daring when we are out I would be ecstatic. I am proud of her and her beauty, extremely lucky that she chose to be my wife.

When I point out a sexy dress and ask if I can purchase it for her, she retreats into her librarian mode, ignoring my requests. I have booked her spa days at salons that are noted for making good looking females utterly gorgeous, but she comes back home pretty much with the same look.

I feel so lucky to have been able to marry her, but wish I could show her off a little, someone so beautiful that dresses more like plain Jane than the sexy female that she is. My wish to show her off, maybe more a desire to compensate for my lack of anything that a female might find appealing.

I am five foot nine inches tall, weighing one hundred thirty-five pounds, but from there it goes all downhill. I don’t have a male physique; my shoulders are narrow and the amount of facial hair below my eyebrows would not fill a thimble. The two hairs on my upper lip, a representation of the follicular development on my body. The two individual hairs is not a joke that is all the hair that resides there, where most males have a full complement of hair, even enough for a mustache if desired.

My hair on my head is the exception, so thick that it requires constant thinning, an ash blond color, and reaching my shoulder blades. I keep it in a low ponytail all the time to minimize the times that I am referred to in the feminine gender. Yet only a few inches away from all that hair my two sparsely populated eyebrows scream female.

I have been asked by more than one female if I pluck my eyebrows, an embarrassing question that brings on the red cheeks and tears to my eyes. To be asked that question by a female kind of tells you what my eyebrows look like.

So yes, the desire to be able to show off my sexy wife, is an effort to overcompensate for my lack of masculinity. I just wish she would bend a little to at least meet me halfway. Lately I have been encouraging her a little harder to push the envelope, to use a recent expression, but the only concession she has made to me was to buy some sexy panties at Victoria’s Secret.

She does wear them quite often, but no one sees them but me. I do appreciate them, all parts of my body standing tall when I get a glimpse as she slips one of them on in the morning.

We had just come out of a bookstore at the mall, leisurely strolling and window shopping as we went. We passed Taylor’s, a local boutique that handled fashions like Fredrick’s of Hollywood. I stopped and stared at the window. I knew better than to say anything, too many conversations in the past all ended up the same.

Tiffany comes up to the window to see what I am looking at. “Do you see something that you like, I would be glad to buy you something if you want it?” I turned quickly to see if she was joking, she has never offered anything like this before. I started to say something, but the words failed me. I didn’t want to start an argument again, but I would love to see her in any of the garments in the window.

She grabbed my hand and led me into the shop, walking up to a display of corsets like what was in the window. She looked through the pile picking out a couple of colors, then a couple of panties in the display next to the corsets. As she was picking out colors she would cast a glance at me, to see my expression.

At least that was what I presumed she was doing. A sales associate came up to us asking if she could help us. In a normal voice Tiffany told the sales associate that I needed to be measured, then I wanted to try on the proper size corset and panties in these colors.

I looked at her, my mouth open and a sudden shortness of breath threatening to make me faint. The sales associate was not bothered in the least by my wife asking for her husband to be measured for ladies’ undergarments. She smiled at me, then grabbed my hand and led me off to a changing room, while I looked back at Tiffany for some help.

There was no help coming from her, although she smiled at me all the way to the changing room. I just plodded along, not willing by any means, but in a daze. I soon found myself in the changing room.

The clerk had me remove my clothes except for my briefs, measured my chest, waist and hips. All the time I just stood there confused and lost, but a bright red color displayed from my hair on the top of my head to my groin.

She left for a while, then came back with the appropriately sized items. I tried to get her attention but to no avail. I didn’t want to try on the corset, but before any words came out, she had it around my waist and was hooking the busk in the front.

I really tried hard to convey my jumbled thoughts to her, but she was on a mission. I was spun around and she started tightening the laces, with me still stuttering and trying to form a few coherent words.

My mind had absolutely melted; the words did not make sense and for some reason most never made it out of my mouth. It almost felt like my mouth was full of cotton, dry and parched to the extreme.

I was still stunned when she handed me the matching panties, and then pulled my briefs down my legs. I was facing away from her luckily but was still highly embarrassed. I quickly tried to pull the panties up my legs trying to maintain some modesty, trying desperately not to trip over my briefs caught around my one ankle and a shoe.

The corset was making bending over very difficult, so I had a hard time getting my foot into the pantie. I kicked off my shoes, my briefs flying with them over to the corner of the room, allowing me to get the panties up my legs.

But before I completed all of this Tiffany came through the dressing room door admiring my new underwear. The red on my face went up another notch, now I feared not having enough blood in my lower extremities to maintain an upright stance. I started to stagger a little, Tiffany grabbing an arm as she was examining my new underwear.

She started touching me all over, feeling the corset and the skin that it pushed up above the top of the corset. Then a hand rubbed over my panties, my erection rising to the occasion, my face getting redder. I collapsed on the chair in the dressing room, tears starting to flow. Too much, half naked, dressed in a corset and panties, my wife admiring my feminine underwear, and groping everything she can get hold of.

She kissed me, handing me a blouse to put on then a skirt that was way too short. She calmly picked up my clothes, including my briefs, and left the room. I tried to follow her until I realized how I was dressed, then retreated to the safety of the changing room.

I tried to call her but either she could not hear me or was ignoring me. I looked at the clothes she handed me, not wanting to put them on, but my options seemed to be severally limited. Tiffany briefly stuck her head in the door, either wait here or get dressed in the skirt and blouse so you can browse the store. I am going next door to get you some shoes, don’t run off dear.

She was giggling as she headed out of the dressing room area, I was so confused. Was this because of me pushing her to try more provocative clothes, if so, I am speechless from now on?

I was getting chilly, the red from my embarrassment was not keeping my body warm. I pulled on the skirt, fastening the zipper and then swiveling it around till the zipper was in the back. Tiffany had done this quite often, it seemed to be the only way for me to get in the skirt without help from someone, help that I didn’t want to see me dressed this way.

I put my arms into the blouse, then pulled them out again, the blouse buttoned up the back, damn Tiffany, I must have stepped way over the line about my wanting her to dress sexier, and this is obviously my punishment for doing so.

I got my arms in the blouse, the top button done up and then had to wait for someone to do up the remaining buttons.

I was shaking from fear, nothing like this has ever happened, I presumed I had pushed things too far but was not sure that was the reason for me dressed as a sexy lady. When you are uncomfortable and scared time seems to crawl, I was thinking that Tiffany might leave me here in the store to make her point.

My money was in my pants, and they were God knows where by now. It seemed to be forever before I heard her voice back in the store. Finally, my wife came into the dressing room holding a shoe bag with several pair of shoes in it.

Surely, they are not both for me, now something else to worry about. I swear I will never say another word to her about anything that I might desire her to do, if I can just get home and out of these clothes.

I was made to try on both pairs of shoes, of course she liked the taller heels and they were buckled on to my feet. She did button up my blouse, now I was trapped in the blouse until she could undo it for me, presumably when we got home.

I never saw my clothes, my wallet, or keys.

While I was getting used to the heels she paid for my purchases and led me down the mall to a beauty salon. My head swiveling wildly as I looked to see if anybody was staring at me. The sign said Turnabout Gurl Salon, where a male can become a ravishing female.

I tried to put on my brakes, definitely not where I want to go, no matter the reason. Surely, she wouldn’t take me in there, maybe she was just scaring me some more, I am sure she could smell the extreme anxiety that I was exhibiting. My mind was fried, no rational thoughts possible and I doubt if any blood was circulating as red and hot as my face felt.

Have you tried to resist going somewhere in heels, I could barely walk in them much less try to maneuver in them.

I had no traction whatsoever and soon I was set at a manicuring table getting my nails done. Not just polish but extensions, long ones. I set there nervous as hell, my fear getting more desperate by the minute. I tried to plead with her, I begged, I promised her anything she wanted, but all I got was a big smile with no comment from her.

So, I gave in, my nerves were shot, my stomach was doing flip flops, I just knew I was permanently red from embarrassment since more than a few people heard me beg her for some mercy or forgiveness, or anything. The beautician was trying her best to keep from outright laughter listening to my pleas. By the time my manicure was dry the mall was closing, probably the only thing saving me from more humiliation.

When we got back to the car, I briefly looked for my clothes in the back seat. Nothing, her purse was not big enough for them to fit inside, so in a wimpy little voice I asked what happened to my clothes.

“Since you are going to be wearing the provocative clothes now, you have no need for them, so I threw them out. We will talk more when we get home, I suggest you prepare yourself for some difficult times ahead.”

I kept quiet, now something else to try and figure out. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I doubted it was something I would embrace.

We got home and she got the car door for me, then held the front door as I entered. Her actions were not lost on me; she is treating me exactly like a female. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut the last few months, now I will be paying for those remarks forever.

She had me sit in the living room on the couch, made me get up and sit down again after I had smoothed my skirt to make sure all the wrinkles were out. She got us some canned pop and came and set right across from me, mine a diet variety to help with maintaining my new figure.”

“I have listened to you for months, about how I dress, that I could do more to please you. Tonight, at the mall I had an epiphany, I can buy you the items you want me to wear and you can show me how easy it is, to be dressed as you want me to dress for you. By doing it this way I will be able to see the errors in my thinking, and you will succeed in your wishes.”

“So, a simple way to settle things amicably, you being the more fashion conscious person of the group can teach me how it is done and relish in your ability to turn heads in your performance of these tasks at the same time.”

“Now I have made another appointment at the salon in the morning, for them to finish their conversion of you to the fairer sex. Since all of this is about wearing sexier, up to date fashionable clothes you must have the perfect figure before you can show me the errors of my ways. Nothing to it, they will do all the work, you just have to let them mold you to your ideal of the perfect female.”

“I know at times you suffer from temporary memory loss, so I have already filled them in on what you desire, the same things that you have asked me to do for you. I think that is somewhat fitting don’t you.”

“I am locking your closets and dresser up, no male clothes at all. I am sure you wouldn’t want to slip back into old habits or fashions that are not current and sexy. I have also informed your mother of your temporary gender change so she will be available if you suddenly need some advice on makeup or hair styles.”

“You do not have to thank me; it is the least a loving spouse can do for their significant other.”

I tried to process all that she had told me, another appointment to finish the job, telling my mother about all of this. Those were the two points that wedged in my mind preventing any further rational thought.

It wasn’t haphazard, she had apparently been planning this for some time, or she had ideas on what might show me the errors of my way, I simply provided the situation to get it all started.

“In the chest of drawers is your new underwear, top drawer and in my closet are two outfits you can wear until we go shopping for you. Under your pillow is your negligee for tonight, so if you want to change now, let me help you get your buttons undone on the blouse.”

I stood there as she released me from the blouse, a most unsatisfactory feeling for a male. I did receive a kiss on the lips, something that I used to do to her after helping her with her clothes.

Again, something I recognized from times past. I have really stepped into it big time, I doubt there will be a satisfactory conclusion anytime soon, at least one that I might be able to live with.

While I was removing the feminine clothes, then slipping on the nightie I doubted I could feel more ashamed or embarrassed. The nightie made my body betray me, the shivers of delight as it slid down my body almost causing me to lose my balance in the heels. I tried to get the buckles undone on the heels but with my new nails that was totally impossible.

Tiffany did help get them unbuckled but her rubbing of my smooth legs was not needed or desired. I shivered at the feelings as she ran her hand up and down on my calves. I brushed my teeth and brushed my hair, putting it back in a ponytail. I was halfway to the bed when I realized I never even tried to get out of the corset.

Unfortunately, Tiffany noticed this too, a huge smile appearing in her face. “I see you love your corset, we will make sure that we get you more tomorrow. The salon appointment will be finished by three, I will be there to see the new you, then we can go shopping to get your dream wardrobe.

“Don’t worry, I have set aside plenty of money to get you a complete wardrobe, nothing to be spared for my lover and wife. First thing in the morning we will pack up all your male clothes then after lunch I will get them to Goodwill, something you can be proud of, your old clothes helping some male to look his best.”

As soon as I sat down on the bed, I was leaned back and embraced, her tongue more than making itself known as to intent and purpose. Within seconds I lost all train of thought, the sensation of being kissed so erotically, overcame any thoughts that I might have been able to put together.

I did manage to get my arms around her pulling her closer to me, the feeling as her pointy nipples came up against my chest just about sent me over the edge. As I got more excited, I had to slow down, the corset restricting my air intake some, my mind had me wishing for more touching, but not able to handle what I was receiving now.

Things finally calmed down some, I found myself staring at the ceiling wondering how I ended up in this predicament. After mulling it over I realized I had done this to myself. Constantly reminding her of what I desired of her; she had just applied the same thing I desired of her to me. There problem solved, I will be the sexy more beautiful wife, and she can be who she wants to be.

If only I had used a little restraint, I might have found myself other than restrained in a corset, decked out like a beautiful woman for bed, scheduled to be made fully female tomorrow morning.

I guess I could put a stop to it now, put my foot down and stop all this silliness, but to what good would that do. She had side steeped my requests, if I stopped all this I would never be able to bring up any requests of her again. If I went through all this I might be able to coerce her into some of my requests later, as she wouldn’t want to look less feminine than me.

Yeah, what a pipe dream that is. A normal aggressive macho male I am not, in fact I doubted I was anything normal. I was still trying to put two reasonable thoughts together, so much to think about and the sensations affecting my body almost impossible to ignore.

Sleeping that night did not happen quickly or lasted very long. I was awake, then dozed off to be woken again by someone’s hands on my member. A few rubs and I was wide wake as she rolled over to go back to sleep. I indeed remembered doing that to her breasts many nights, now all these paybacks were delivered in one huge package, one that I seemed to not have any choice in accepting.

Staring at the ceiling I decided to reason with her in the morning, I would apologize, even beg if necessary to get this to stop. Then the fact that my male clothes would be hauled off tomorrow, re-entered my mind. I sure hope I can convince her that I am sorry.

It was after two in the morning before she quit reminding me of her presence. I did get some sleep, the dream I had was very disturbing, but hard to remember much about it. I was in dresses in the dream that much I did recall.

Tiffany was already up and dressed, applying her makeup in the bathroom. When she was done, she came to the edge of the bed and threw back the sheets. I was hauled out of the bed and the negligee hoisted over my head. A sweat top was lowered over my head, my hair brushed into a ponytail and the matching pants were handed to me. I slipped them up my legs trying to apologize to Tiffany. She handed me her flip flops and started dragging me to the front door. I did my best to resist, but in the sandals, I couldn’t get her to stop.

Out the door and towards her car. As we passed the back porch, I saw boxes of my male clothes stacked waiting to be picked up by Goodwill. Tiffany can be a force to be reckoned with, I presume I have met my match, and she has accomplished what she wanted. I tried to apologize again, but she wasn’t even listening in my frantic mumblings.

She opened the passenger door, got me inside and the seat belt buckled then came around to the driver side. After getting seated she leaned over and shut me up with her kiss, then backed out and headed to town.

Back to the salon, this time I had no choice. She reminded me that she had my wallet, keys, and that I had no transportation since she had brought me to the salon. Do as they say or I will carry this further than you might want to go.
She came around, opened my door as I was trying to get the seat belt unbuckled, leaned in and gave me the most erotic toe-curling kiss I have ever experienced.

In shock, I was helped out of the car and into the salon. One more kiss, this one more mundane and she was gone.

So much for my apologies this morning, Tiffany is having way too much fun at my expense to stop or even slow things down. The receptionist asked my name, I told her Pat, she looked down her list of appointments, until she found Patricia.

Come this way and I was led to a treatment room. Another one of their techs assisted me in removing my clothes, then laid me on a table.

A cream was slathered over my front side, groin included. After thirty minutes it was wiped off along with all my hair. I never had much body hair to start with, now I was to have none. It was particularly noticeable around my male organ. Without his camouflage he looked shrunken and utterly pathetic.

I was helped onto my stomach, and the back side was handled the same way. It suddenly became drafty, the air from the overhead fan doing a job on my now over sensitive skin.

Turned back over my feet were placed in stirrups, then they were spread wide apart. My male organ was tucked away, and then a silicone vulva was glued over it making my male sex now lost to me.

How was I going to have sex with Tiffany, did she want this, was what I did so bad that this is my punishment? Essentially, I had been castrated, my male organ now no longer able to function. Too many unanswered questions remained, Tiffany unavailable to fill me in on why.

I was quiet for some time, way too much to think about, maybe a simple apology not enough for this situation anymore.

The day proceeded in the same manner. Each new treatment makes me that much more feminine. After the fake vagina, my breasts were next, or to be more correct my lack of breasts was next to be handled.

Two formidable sized cups were glued to my chest; hoses were attached and soon extra skin on my chest was being sucked into those cups. Some fatty tissue was introduced into the cups by a syringe, when the cups started heating up the fatty substance was absorbed into my body. I had a bad feeling about where it might end up at.

While the pump was doing its thing, my ears were pierced, my eyebrows eliminated or nearly so, and my fingers now sported longer nail extensions than the ones applied last night. These were glued on with an adhesive that bonded the nail to my own nail until they grew out. A bright coral red polish was applied after the nails were sealed with a base coat, then after the three layers of colored polish a clear topcoat made them shine ridiculously. Of course, my toes now match my fingers, thankfully no extensions there.

Once my breasts were nearing the appropriate size the pump was shut off, after nearly five hours of sucking. The horses disconnected and I was moved to a stylist’s chair. There my hair was shampooed and conditioned then cut into a feminine style. Curlers were next, some liquid spayed on the hair before the curler was wound tight. The number of curlers was way more than I thought possible, followed by a stint under a hot hair dryer. The hairstyle turned out to be an ultra-feminine one, apparently, I am only to receive treatments to make me over the top girly.

Some mild heat was applied to the breast cups, causing them to soften some and I was handed a very lacy bra. The color surprised me, a light green the lace trimming the bra a green and cream combo that looked so feminine. I had to have help to get it on, no way would my arms bend far enough to hook the back of the bra, then my long fingernails would be of no help if I did get my hands back there to start with.

The bra was comforting, cupping my new breasts and easing the strain on my shoulders. The breasts were heavier than I thought, once in the cups of the bra, the straps of the bra became taught. The forms would dissolve themselves after a few days leaving me with soft luscious breasts, not something I have ever wished for or wanted. Well, I had hopes of Tiffany sporting some this size, now the opposite is true.

Since what I wanted didn’t seem to matter, the panties, lacy and very minimal, but not quite a thong were slid up my legs and a garter belt in a matching apple green was buckled behind me, the stockings, almost totally sheer were attached to the garters making the lingerie portion of my clothing complete.

I smiled a little, the corset was apparently forgotten, something I was quite happy about. But alas, a new frillier one was brought out, again in a light green color, delicate and lacy, but after it was cinched up grabbing my mid-section like a vice. I was now back to struggling to get a breath to my lungs, only small gasps possible.

The clothes laid out for me made me step back. A short Ivory mini skirt with an almost see through lace blouse to match. My lacy bra was showing quite clearly through the lace. A pair of four-inch pumps completed the outfit, making my legs look slender and dainty, but almost impossible to stand and walk in.

I was beat, Tiffany had won, now she had systemically turned everything I had suggested to her over the years against me. I was now the epitome of my desires for her. Everything I had wanted for her I now possessed, no sign of anything masculine left in my image.

Ginny, my stylist, was making some adjustments to my makeup as Tiffany entered the salon, some seven hours after she had dropped me off. She walked right up to me, took me in her arms and kissed me hard. The kiss lasted much longer than any previous kiss between us, I am not sure why. I am not complaining though. Ginny handed me a compact and the lipstick suggesting that I fix my lips. A giggle escaping her lips.

Tiffany paid at the front returning to lead me away. I was taken to her car, and helped in. She drove us to a restaurant that we quite often dined at, her friend Melissa the hostess there.

I was going to beg to not be displayed this way, but realized my chances of her relenting were nil, so I meekly followed Tiffany into the restaurant. I had forgotten Melissa worked there until I saw her behind the small check-in desk. They greeted each other, exchanging hugs, with Melissa giving me careful appraisal.

She showed us to a table, out of the mainstream, and for that I was thankful. She pulled my chair for me, grinning from ear to ear. No comments were made, she had other guests appear, so she made her way back to handle them. Meanwhile, I was beet red from embarrassment.

Tiffany ordered for me, for which I was appreciative. I am not sure how feminine my voice sounded, definitely not wanting any more attention shed on me. The day’s activities with the corset cinched so tight had pretty much diminished my appetite, now I was just moving my food around on my plate, something Tiffany often did when we ate out.

Tiffany’s eyes often focused on me, I was not sure whether she liked me this way or was relishing her new control over me. We eventually finished our meals, well she did, I still had half of mine on my plate. She paid for the check, getting what I didn’t eat in a takeout container.

I was led to the car, as she got my door for me, then helped buckle my seat belt while administering a searing kiss as she finished. It felt kind of nice to be cared for, a feeling I have never experienced before.

Even as a child my parents didn’t do anything other than the basics. Food, clothes and a roof over my head, were all furnished but the emotional caring never materialized. I guessed they loved me in some way, but it was never shown in any physical way. No hugs, kisses, not even a pat on my head when I excelled in school.

Tiffany’s actions toward me since I was feminized really affected me deep inside. A warm gooey feeling that spread to all parts of my body. She pulled into the garage, turned off the car and leaned over to hug me. She managed to get my seat belt undone, dragging me closer to her.

Her arms around me holding me tight and her lips leaving little kisses all over my face. It felt so good, I could sit with her all night like this. She released me, walked around to get to my door, then grabbed one of my wrists to help me out of the car.

I don’t know why I just sat there waiting for her to come around and get my door. I usually just get out on my own, never needing help before. Maybe it is the breasts that I now have on my body, can something that is sucked from my body affect my thinking so much that I just revert to the feminine choices by default?

Who knows? I was led inside and right to our bedroom. We have a love seat at one end of the bedroom in an alcove with windows looking out into our back yard. I was seated there and told to relax.

She headed off to the kitchen, in pursuit of something. A short time later she returned with two glasses of iced tea. She sat them on the coffee table in front of the love seat and sat right next to me. She took one of my hands holding it with both of hers.

“I did this originally to try and get you to see what your requests of me meant in my life. I knew you never considered how I might feel decked out like you wanted me to look act and dress. It was an effort to get you to see that your wishes when applied to someone you love take on different meanings. The larger breasts are the main concern. Yes, it would add to my looks, making me sexier, but also bringing unwanted attention to me when you are not around.

“A female with prominent breasts gets a lot of looks, sometimes even a grope or two, especially if her husband or boyfriend is not around. Some females desire that kind of attention, but to me it is degrading. I am fairly intelligent and can handle business affairs with ease. Dressing provocatively makes everyone think that I have no business skills, just tits and ass to entertain some male fantasy.”

“After we left the salon, you were ogled several times. Nobody thought you looked intelligent or capable, just that you had a great set of hooters, and would probably make a good lay.”

“Now that you are decked out as you wanted me to be, do you still think it is such a wise idea. Let’s try your way for a month or two, maybe you are right only time will tell. Since I have you dressed so provocatively, I do like you better this way, maybe we can make this a permanent arrangement, I will earn the big bucks and you can be the sexy wife and lover. Just thinking about this makes me wet, I will make a point to be home early knowing that my sexy lover is waiting for me.”

“ I will need to buy a special little toy for my beloved, maybe you can go with me to pick it out. I definitely do not want to get the wrong size.”

Well, that caused me to go instant red, but surprisingly my feeble mind did see some interesting possibilities in that idea. Oh gawd, will I be able to live like this, my little man twitching below my new female sex was trying his best to communicate his approval of all of this. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, dressed to the nines every day and doing it for love.

Speaking of love, Tiffany was really getting into the idea of me being the female that I had wanted for her. That love surfaced quickly in shopping for clothes, the same clothes that I wanted to get for her before all of this got started.

I quickly found out she has an excellent memory; every request I had brought up to her had been memorized and cataloged along with the exact store that offered it for sale. Over the next few days, my wardrobe expanded exponentially as all the items were purchased in my size and in the most feminine colors imaginable.

While at the salon again for some needed touch up Tiffany and some helpers moved the boxes of clothes to her car. When she came to pick me up, she had made a stop, my male clothes now dropped off to Goodwill. She showed me the donation slip, the items would be sold to provide employment for the disadvantaged, and I now had a tax deduction for this year’s income tax. Yeah, at a time like this, who in the hell is concerned about taxes.

I did the best that I could to keep her satisfied, dressing in the clothes she had bought me and being the sexy wife for her. I would work all afternoon on making a dinner for her that she might appreciate, then after cleaning up spend most of the evening trying to please her in bed.

I quickly assumed all the household chores, the least I can do for my lover. It took me a few days to get the hang of it, several mistakes made that I learned from. Putting light and dark clothes together in the washing machine is one of my first lessons. The resulting pink garments are not necessarily what one might wear.

I burned several food dishes I was trying to prepare, but eventually I was able to put a nice dinner on the table that she eagerly consumed. The fact that she did not have to shop for the ingredients or cook it that much better.

Tonight, when she got home she had three more bags of clothes for me, I tried to hide my smile, wondering what she got me this time. Maybe being the wife and lover won’t be that bad, so far, the clothes are scrumptious and so sexy.

I did learn my lesson, a couple of weeks out and about as Patricia proved that all she had mentioned as reasons she did not want to experience my desires were driven home dramatically.

An example would be grocery shopping. On a weekend I dreaded it with a passion, since a lot of males used that time to shop. I was ogled, stared at and made quite uncomfortable by the attention my larger than average breasts brought to me. Her point proven in spades.

I did enjoy taking care of her, it was satisfying and made me feel wanted and loved. I knew I never expressed my thanks for all she did for me enough, once in her shoes I realized my shortcomings. Doing it for love became my mantra, I so loved her and tried to show it in my actions every day.

We did try it for the full month, then another living room talk. Tiffany started the discussion while I just sat there trying to put some words to my thoughts. Well Patricia, you have succeeded in proving me wrong. You handled yourself well considering that I pretty much just dropped you in this without any forewarning or notice.

Even though you have suffered a little at the attention from the males you have handled it easily and without making a big deal out of it. You have learned from your mistakes and made a wonderful wife for your loving spouse. I admit defeat, I will do quite a few of the things you have desired of me, maybe not everything but I can see where some of the things would enhance your enjoyment of my appearance.

Now we come to you, I know I have been unfair to you, pushing a lot of things on you that were not necessary to prove my point. My problem is that I now desire you all frilly and feminine, being able to come home to you and share my workday with you. Having a nice meal waiting and knowing that I can have my way with you afterward is pure heaven.

I have always enjoyed my job, but now I watch the clock, waiting for quitting time so that I can head home, spending time with you now the most important part of my day. I hope you will consider staying as Patricia for me, I love you so much, often I spend the afternoon dreaming of you and what I can do to you when I get home.

I sat there looking into her eyes. All I see is the female I fell in love with, whether I am dressed as a male or female makes no difference to me. I do love the sexy clothes, the pampering and being able to show my love to my spouse every day whether it is in how I look, or the meal I prepare, or the house I keep clean and comfy for her.

I swallowed hard, yes Patricia is here to stay, she is doing it for love, a love that will last forever. We kissed, a deep meaningful kiss that seemed to go on and on.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Robin, A Nail Polish Dilemma

I was still living at home, even though I was eighteen and had just finished my schooling. The last year of school was difficult for me, so any hope of a college degree was futile. I had the smarts but lacked any desire to utilize it. Usually a few weeks after I was taught the material I would have a hard time even reciting it back. I couldn’t see any use for the knowledge being taught me, I knew I would end up doing something physical to earn a living. The few friends I associated with had already faced that reality, two in construction and another driving trucks for a living.Robin,

I had found a few odd jobs around town, something to keep me busy and keep my parents from lecturing me about a career and a job that would amount to something. I saw the look on their faces often, but luckily they chose not to lecture me about by go nowhere life.

My sister had already moved out, her choice of a career getting her ahead quickly. She has been promoted twice, now a department head earning almost three hundred dollars a week. She loves her work, her choice of courses in school perfect for the job she has now. Another sore subject that I am sure will be pointed out to me at a later date. If only I had applied myself, found something I was interested in I could be sharing in her success.

The parents wanted to do some renovations around their house, my old bedroom converted to a sewing room for Mother, a wish of hers for so long. I ended up in my sister’s old room, unchanged from when she occupied it. My old room was perfect for Mom, the natural light from the many windows perfect for her sewing needs.

Sis’s room was upstairs, a smaller room but with lots of closet space. She moved a lot of her things to the house she was renting, saving the daily commute that she now faced. She now had a roommate, both friends for many years. Hence no need to purchase a lot of furniture or accessories.

She left a lot of her things in her old room, Mom wanting me to just put up with the way things were. So I now slept in a canopy bed, with silk sheets and a lacy comforter. Her dressers were still there, still having a lot of her lingerie housed therein. Her vanity still had a lot of makeup and nail polish on it, even the makeup mirror she had used still there. She stops by every once in a while to pickup a lipstick or a bottle of nail polish that she needs for a certain look.

So I am a male that lives in an estrogen environment, a fact of life for me. For the most part I manage, but do handle some of her clothing on occasion, even sampling some of her makeup on occasion. Curiosity prevails, not a desire to wear it all the time.

Up until recently I had left her nail polish alone, Then one night when I was bored out of my skull I opened one of her nail polishes and tried to paint one of my nails. I had seen sis do it many times, but it proved harder than I imagined. Unfortunately, I had forgot about some way to remove the polish, so for the next couple of days I sported a pinkie finger with pink polish on it.

I remembered to keep that hand in a fist when out, that way the nail with the nail polish would not be seen. I did eventually borrowed some of my mother’s nail polish remover, and got the polish off. That was done when Mom was out shopping. I vowed to get myself a bottle of remover before I tried the nail polish again.

I realized I was thinking of trying it again, no reason particularly, but the thought still persistent. A week later while out shopping at a drug store I remembered the nail polish remover and bought myself a bottle of it. Now I was prepared for another attempt, still not sure why I still was thinking of painting my nails again.

I had a good week a month later, earning more in one week that I had in the previous month. It was exhausting, unloading trucks for eight straight days. I decided I need a rest, so I bought some snack foods and some diet drinks and prepared to hold up in my girly room for a week of peace and quiet. I made it till mid week before the urge to try the nail polish again surfaced. I managed to ignore it for a day, but on Thursday I gave in as soon as I had snacked on some breakfast cereal.

My parents were going to be out all day, so no chance of being caught wearing nail polish. I went through all of sis’s nail polish stumbling on a box of really pretty colors in a drawer of her vanity. I decided on a light red color, taking extra time to make sure I did not get any nail polish on anything but the nail. An hour later, I had painted all ten fingers, even removing my socks and doing my toenails. It was stressful, with me closing my eyes after completing the job.

Sis grabbing one of my hands woke me up right away, as she held my hand and gazed at my manicure. Before I could pull my hand away from her she had snapped a picture of my hands sporting the nail polish and was sending it to her computer. She looked at the nail polish I had used and smirked. I was asked if I had read the bottle, and handed me the bottle pointing out the warning on the label. I read it and nearly passed out. It was a semi-permanent polish requiring three weeks before it could be removed, then only by soaking it in acetone for twenty minutes.

She wanted to know if I wanted her to inform Mom of what I had done, or did I want to try and hide my nails for the next month. I tried to start a reply several times, but the words were not leaving my brain in any semblance of order or meaning. The door to the kitchen opened, my parents had returned. I stammered but asked her to try and explain what I done to Mom in particular. I knew she would be the one to question my motives and jump to conclusions if given time.

Sis left to fill Mom in, returning several minutes later, a smiling Mom right behind her. Mom examined my nails, even checking my toenails. A bigger smile then surfaced as she went to my drawers where I kept my underwear and removed all of it. It was put in a bag she had in her hand and then left the room. Sis just smiled, knowing full well what Mom was doing.

A little while later Mom returned and went through the drawers that had Sis’s underwear in them picking a few items for me to wear. I was made to remove what few clothes I still had on, and put on the underwear that had been picked out for me to wear. Thus attired, I was led to one of the closets with my sister’s dresses in it and handed one to try on. The first one fit a little too tightly, the second one fit almost perfectly. Both sis and Mom gathered up my male clothes that I typically wore and left the room leaving me there, bewildered and confused.

Sis had spoken to Mom, no yelling but now dressed in one of my sister’s dresses with perfectly painted nails, the male me no longer around. Mom returned, informing me that I would be dressing as a female, makeup and nail polish, heels and stockings for the foreseeable future. No arguing, you did this to yourself, so no one to blame but yourself.

I suggest we change your name to Robin, a much better fit than Rob to how you will be dressed. I still expect you to have some type of employment, you are not going to stay here and do nothing. Your sister might be able to help you out there, so I would suggest that you ask her nicely. If left up to me I will volunteer you for the daycare center down the street, they are always needing help.

© 2016 thru 2026 by Turnabout Gurl

Tina, Beauty School Model

Julie had worked to support me as I went through college, I now had my degree in computer science and had found employment as a tech working from home helping people with their newly purchased software. I liked the part about working from home, now I would be able to keep the house up while providing money for Julie to get her degree. To my surprise and her family, she decided to take vocational courses to become a cosmetologist. We talked several times about her desire, but she was adamant that this is what she wanted to do with her life. One of her friends had taken the courses and was now working as a hair stylist, making almost as much as I was and that was with me having a degree.

We had a fairly normal relationship, indulging each other in what we desired romantically. Julie always appreciated her breasts being played with while I wanted to cuddle all the time. I loved to hold her tight to me, my arms around her with my hands massaging her breasts. That is till her nipples got sore and she had to lay on her stomach to keep them out of my reach, thus allowing her nipples to rest a bit. In that position I would run my fingers up and down her back, ending up on her shapely butt making circles around her perfect rear and slipping them into her pussy if she spread her legs a little. That is if I was allowed to play.

More than once I was accused of having a one-track mind, truthfully she was probably right. We did refrain from doing actual male/female sex, desiring to wait until later in life after we married.

She picked one of the better schools for her cosmetology training, its tuition was a little higher than some, but they guaranteed job placement when she graduated. Julie picking this career choice saved me quite a bit of money, money I had set aside for her degree. Instead, I put it into a separate account for our first house. We were living in Julie’s parents’ house now, which was vacant as they joined the migration to warmer climates for the winter, eventually deciding to live there year around.

Her first few weeks were normal school types of study as she had to learn all about the human body that they would be working on later. It seemed she had become a little disappointed since she wanted to get to the fun part right away. She persevered though and soon she was able to do the fun part as she calls it. They worked on each other at the school, doing hair, makeup, and other basic beauty services. When they were not doing beauty services on each other they were using a dummy head, where hair styling and makeup could be practiced on. For manicuring they had a dummy hand for that purpose. There was always homework though, Julie was supposed to work on setting her hair each night in different styles, then brush it out and take a selfie of the completed style. That way they would get experience in the many different hairstyles that females take advantage of sometime during their life.

After a night or two of this she decided I would be a better candidate to do her homework on. She wanted to use me as her model. I of course complained, told her no but she was obviously not listening to me. I resisted at first, not wanting to volunteer to be partially feminized every evening. She wore me down eventually agreeing to pay me an hourly rate for the time she worked on me with a myriad of different beauty
treatments.

I was not concerned about getting paid to be feminized but I wasn’t going to just agree without a concession of some kind. Incidentally, I never received a dime for my hours as her beauty school model, as she conveniently forgot her previous agreement with me.

She cut my hair several times, nothing drastic, but if I didn’t do anything to the style but wash out her efforts it remained firmly in the realm of a feminine hairstyle. Many nights she set my hair in curlers, then I had to sit under a dryer for the hair to dry. It got brushed out after the curlers were removed, then countless pictures were taken with her new digital camera. I hoped she was only sharing them with her class but knowing my girlfriend that was only a faint hope.

Makeup a couple of nights a week and on occasion receiving a manicure with extensions. Of course, polish too. Some of it remaining on my fingers for several days, since nail polish remover didn’t seem to faze the layers of polish that she had applied. The extensions were under the polish, so guess what. I had long elegant nails to go along with makeup and often a hairstyle to boot. Of course, lots of pictures to show her instructor.

She seemed to forget about the last set of nails she had applied as she never did get around to removing the nail extensions or polish, choosing to instead work on my hair more or makeup in the ensuing evenings.

It took me a couple of weeks to get used to nails, so my responses to customers about their software questions suffered, the nails affecting my ability to type very fast. The questions I had to respond to were in a live chat. Unbeknownst to me my boss had seen my slower than normal responses in her daily report and decided to come to my house to see what the problem was.

My usual one-minute responses were taking several minutes, thus affecting how many calls I could handle in a day. I answered the doorbell, thinking it was a door to door salesman or a religious advocate.

Surprise, Glenda stood there taking in my appearance. She was familiar with my male appearance as we had to train at the office for several weeks before we were allowed to work from home. She got the biggest smirk on her face, asking if I was going to invite her in. I led her to the den, where I had my computer. She helped herself to a chair in front of my desk and watched me try and handle the next few chat sessions.

I knew I was red faced, sitting there with long polished nails, a curly hairdo that just shouted girly girl and a feminine face, although I had managed to get some of the makeup off earlier. Eyebrows highly arched above my eyes and lips that were still puffy and pouty due to the lip plumping lipstick Julie had used on me last night. She watched as I made it through three customers, then used her laptop to remove me from active associates available to help customers.

She suggested that I reveal all, she was dying to hear the why and how of my dual life. I finally found the words to tell her how I had been recruited to be a model for Julie’s efforts to become a cosmetologist. She giggled quite often at the predicament I found myself in, even laughing a couple of times when I told her of having to go to the grocery store wearing some of Julie’s clothes since I couldn’t get my makeup off on that particular day.

After I finished, she sat and pondered what to do with me if anything. She had noticed on the couple of customers I had just handled that the nails were not as much of a hindrance as before. She accessed her laptop again, going to my personnel file and changing a couple of things. She double checked the information then hit submit.

Her big infectious smile back on her face as she told me that she had changed my gender to female, thus allowing for a longer response time to software questions. Females often took longer to formulate an answer to a query, thus the reason for her changing my gender with the company. Now my response times fitted into the expected time frame for a female.

My mouth was suddenly open at that revelation, she just smiled reminding me of the monthly meeting at the office that I dress accordingly, a nice dress and heels would be appropriate to wear for the meeting in her opinion. She got up, came to give me a hug and walked out of the room, with me trying to catch her and get her to change her mind.

At the door she told me the meeting had been moved up a little, next Wednesday at eight A.M. Be sure you are prompt, I will need to introduce you to my boss during that meeting. Now I have activated you back as a live chat associate, so I am sure you have work to do now. She turned and left me standing there, mouth open and at a loss of what to do or say. My computer pinged, so I had a chat session to attend to. I signed on and was kept busy for the remainder of the day.

When Julie came home from her schooling she had her instructor with her, my complexion turning more to the reddish color as soon as I saw she had someone with her.

Surely nothing more could happen today, a bad day now suddenly disastrous. I was introduced to her as the instructor carefully looked over me, especially my eyebrows, lips and fingernails. Apparently, Julie got passing marks on all three. Since my hair was down to my shoulders and in a quite feminine style it was also deemed sufficient.

They talked a little between themselves, while I was just trying to shrink into the woodwork. Hugs were exchanged, with me getting a hug too. She left and Julie squealed, apparently what happened was something she had asked for.

In between hugs and kisses I think I heard her say that I had been approved as her model (dummy) for her license exam, scheduled for next Tuesday. Oh shit, next week is now shaping up to be the week from hell. Tuesday at her beauty school and Wednesday at my monthly work meeting. I just hope after the two meetings there will be a Thursday for me.

Julie had requested me to use to show her skills, since I was available and she was used to working her magic on me. This is something not often allowed but the instructor saw a lot of potential in Julie and agreed once she had a chance to see what I looked like. My hair had to be long enough, and my nails and face had to be ambiguous enough to be a blank canvas for her work.

I found a chair to plop my butt in and held my head in my hands. I was trying hard not to cry, but the moisture dripping on my hands belied the truth of the situation. Julie wandered over to comfort me asking what is wrong. I told her of my boss showing up, of my change in gender as far as the company is concerned and about my monthly meeting next week where I am apparently expected to appear in a dress and heels.

I was expecting some sympathy but instead got dragged to her vanity where she cleaned my face and applied fresh makeup, all the while I was trying to get her to stop. Into a pair of her panties, then into one of her dresses as she zipped me up. Then a pair of ladies flats and dragged out to her car. The mall coming into focus about twenty minutes later sent chills down my back. I doubted I looked very much like a female, yet I was out in public dressed like one, about to be led into the mall.

Julie told me we were shopping for my meeting next week, something daring and revealing would be best. I tried to remind her that I was a software consultant not out to find a husband or a second career.

Then of course, you have to have heels, at least five inches in heel height and a perfect match to your dress. Once we have found your dress we can see to your figure, something to fill out the dress properly while keeping your virtue intact. I wasn’t going to respond to the virtue remark, that subject was better left untouched.

Oh gawd, how do I derail this runaway train?

We trekked up and down the mall looking for a dress that was daring but would protect my supposed virtue. Needless to say, I had to try on way too many dresses, getting the idea that my soon to be acquired figure is going to be on prominent display whether I wanted it to be or not. She finally agreed to a dress, two hundred and fifty dollars of my hard earned money being used to buy the dress. Since most of my new figure would be left exposed, that made the dress quite expensive per square inch of material.

Then the search for high heels to match the dress, an ivory pair with burgundy trim matching the dress perfectly, using the same colors as in the dress. I almost had a heart attack as I saw the height of the heels, almost five inches ending in a stiletto heel of no more than a quarter inch pad.

Since it was deemed that I needed the practice, I had to wear the heels out of the store, my first few steps so comical. I did manage to learn to stumble along in the heels, shorter steps and allowing a gentle sway of my behind helping in the process.

Well let’s just say that continued practice would be necessary to keep the laughing and giggling to a manageable level from anyone watching me try to walk. The heels were another three hundred, a steal according to Julie. I remembered my last pair of loafers were sixty-five dollars; I guess the engineering in the heels makes the shoe cost more.

All total for the dress and heels, most of my earnings for the week. Then we have my need for a figure to fill out the dress still to come. We headed home but made a turn a few blocks from our destination. Into a parking lot with a huge beauty salon at the rear of the lot. I shrunk down in my seat, wanting to have nothing to do with what might happen here.

I was dragged out of the car, the heels I am wearing keeping me from being able to resist her efforts. Into the salon Julie telling the receptionist I had an appointment for their basic figure makeover. I was taken back to the treatment room and divested of my dress and panties. The heels however stayed on.

First task is getting rid of my body hair. When Julie had worked on me in the evenings she had used Nair on parts of my body, but today it would be necessary to rid my body of any hair below the hair on top of my head. It took the tech about an hour to clean off what was left of my body hair, while the cream she had applied to my face was left on longer. When the face cream was removed my body was barren, not a single hair follicle left anywhere. Incidentally that included my eyebrows. One look in the mirror and Tina seems here to stay. That is the name Julie often called me when she was practicing on me at home.

I kind of zoned out after that, I know my hair was worked on, from the smelly stuff worked into my roots it suggested that I will now have hair of a different color. I think I had my ears pierced, at least it felt like it.

Then they moved between my legs, as my groin was cleansed thoroughly, I was shaking in fear. There was not much I could do, my feet in stirrups and secured there. When they moved the stirrups wide apart, I knew what they had planned would change my life more than what I might be able to handle. Since Julie had arranged this, I presume she was taking Glenda literally about the change in my gender. I closed my eyes, hoping for some divine intervention, but alas my guardian angel was occupied elsewhere or out on a damn break.

As my feet were released from the stirrups, a quick glance down there showed my groin now sported the same look as Julie, a cute slit surrounded with two puffy lips. I guess we do not have to worry about male/female sex, since there is no longer a male available.

I hoped closing my eyes again for an extended period and all of this would just seem like a dream. Well, my eyes opened wide immediately as two cups were glued to my chest. As I was trying to figure out how to ask about this in a nonchalant manner, hoses were hooked to the cups and a pump turned on sucking some of the flesh on my chest into the cups. Well, that did it, my mind shut down and I fainted.

When I came to a little later there was a wet washcloth over my eyes, blocking my view of what is happening. I left it there, what I can’t see can’t happen. Sounds good in theory, but not practical in real life.

I heard Julie’s voice, thrilled that she was here, my salvation to escape this scenario. So what does she do? She walks up to me and pulls on the cups attached to my chest trying to stretch out the flesh therein even more. When the pump cuts off a little later, she helps to remove the hose and starts playing with the nipple on the cup that formed my breasts.

A glance at the clock on the wall showed that four hours had passed, then another look at the cups on my chest. They were full, topped off with a very realistic nipple, identical to the ones I often played with on Julie.

I did receive a bra, an item necessary to support my new appendages. They did feel good nestled in the cups of the bra, then the realization that I will be wearing one for the duration, since they were sucked from my body, most likely for the rest of my life.

I didn’t faint this time but probably wished I had, since my mind had ceased to work, no thoughts possible as I just stared at the wall across the room. I followed Julie as she led me out of the salon, then to her car and the remainder of the trip home. When she parked in the garage I just sat there, the earrings swaying against my neck and the new weight on my chest trying to influence my thoughts.

I did notice that the hair color change was all that had been done to my hair. I presume Julie will handle anything additional tomorrow. She helped me out of the car and led me inside; I could hear the sound of my heels on the concrete floor as we crossed the garage floor.

Well, things have certainly changed, no doubt the next two days will bring about many more changes. Julie could see I was lost, swimming against the current about to drown. I was hugged and kissed often that evening, even fed dinner one bite at a time. I was not really hungry, but Julie insisted I eat something, she wasn’t going to put up with an anorexic model at her school the next day. I know she helped me into bed, but I don’t remember when or how.

I was a little better the next morning, managing to slip off the nightie she had put on me and getting a pair of panties and a bra on. The bra did require some extra finagling since it was the first time I had to put one on. It did feel better to be wearing one though.

Julie gathered me up after slipping a dress on me, and the matching heels. No makeup or anything done to my hair, that would be her job once we got to the beauty school. I was escorted in, her one hand on my arm making sure I was headed in the right direction.

A stop so the instructor could see my looks before anything is done to me. A picture from the front, side, and back was taken, visual proof of my starting appearance. I did get to see the front picture; I definitely will not be entering any beauty contests. In fact, I will have to watch looking in any mirror, I just might break one with my hair all mussed, and bits of leftover makeup from yesterday around the eyes. Not a pleasant sight, Julie will definitely have to work miracles to make me look anything like a female.

She started, working with my hair first, washing and conditioning then setting it in curlers. This time there seemed to be more of the curlers used than when she had done it at home. I had no idea what she had planned, every time I had asked yesterday she just smirked and ignored the question. I gave up after a while, my time as a beauty school model is front and center.

Once all of my hair was in curlers she started on my nails, removing the cuticles and then adding extensions. I was shocked to see the length of the extensions, my nails now extending past my fingertips by almost an inch. In our sessions at home, she has added extensions to my nails but never this long.

Next, she started adding layers of polish to the nails, each coat processed under a UV light. The cumulative effect will be very hard to remove. Even with straight acetone it will require hours of soaking to get the polish off. My nails did look quite feminine, the long oval polished nail making my fingers look longer, almost delicate now.

I did briefly wonder about getting the polish off for my job, but quit that thought as it was sure to cause a headache if not a migraine. I closed my eyes, I have confidence in her getting her license, but the collateral damage done to me seems excessive.

Makeup followed, each product application done with precision, something different than what she had done in the past. I was later to learn the makeup she used is semi-permanent, almost like a stain soaking into the skin so that it will last for months. Finally, I was moved under a hair dryer so that my hair in curlers could dry properly. I just sat there, thinking of all that had been done to me today, trying desperately to think of how to handle the repercussions of her efforts.

No conclusions reached, actually not even an idea of how to handle the problems this is sure to cause especially concerning my job. I haven’t escaped this situation yet and I am already worried about tomorrow. Glenda had already seen me in feminine mode, but to meet and interact with her boss as a female seemed daunting.

Julie took out my curlers after she deemed my hair dry and brushed and pinned it into a bridal style, all updo and curls with pearl looking hair pins to help hold the style intact. Her instructor came over to appraise my finished look and passed Julie with flying colors.

Of course, Julie was over the top ecstatic, hugging me and kissing me passionately. Some of her classmates giggled and laughed at her antics. Needless to say, my makeup job was temporarily ruined, her lip prints smudged all over my face and neck. I did say her lip prints, my lipstick still perfect.

I was proud of her, she had worked hard to get to this point, already having several offers of interviews for a job with some of the most prestigious salons in the country. Everything finally wound down and we left for home, Julie still bouncing off the walls with me just tired and looking pretty. My last look at my image as we left the beauty school showed one very feminine female that would be considered pretty by anybody’s standards.

When we got home, I changed out of the dress she had me wear and then slipped on a nightie, my male pajamas nowhere to be found. I headed for bed but was waylaid by Julie as she led me to a chair in the corner of the bedroom. I was pushed into the chair, then she gathered a bunch of pillows and wedged them all around me to support my body and neck.

I sighed, apparently one more penance during my sentence as a female. The reason for the chair and pillows was to preserve my hairdo. I did manage to get some sleep, but it was a little here, then awake and then dozing off again. Far from restful.

Morning did come and Julie was still hyper, waking me up. Then put into a bath with highly scented water. She proceeded to wash me, while I bitched and moaned about the fact. She ignored me finished washing me then dried me off.

Dragged to the bedroom and dressed in some fancy lingerie I had never seen before. Panties, garter belt stockings for the lower half of me, while the top half had a short corset cinched around my waist with half cups supporting my breasts. A slip then a suit with a pencil skirt, I immediately protested, the skirt restricting my movement drastically.

Of course, I was ignored as she zipped up the skirt and fastened the two buttons on the jacked of the suit. No blouse to be worn with the jacket, my cleavage and hint of my slip visible in the vee of the jacket. Heels buckled to my feet and then she touched up my hairstyle, also checking my makeup before I was hauled to her car and drove to work. I was handed a purse as we pulled up, then she wished me good luck and pushed me out of the door.

I was going to duck into one of the other offices, since I suddenly developed cold feet, not really wanting to do this. Glenda showed up, latching on to my arm and leading me to the meeting room. Oh crap, I guess I am stuck, already seeing my eventual downfall once her boss sees me dressed as a female.

Oh well the job was nice while I had it, maybe I can get a job as a hooker if I can’t find anything else. Nope that won’t work, my clothes are all wrong for a job as a lady of the evening.

We entered the meeting room apparently the last two arrived. I was taken to meet her boss right away, seeing someone new to me. Glenda previously had a male boss, very tall and very intimidating in his actions. Everyone I knew in the company was afraid of him, not wanting to do anything to endanger their relationship with him. Glenda seemed to be the only one who had the nerve to stand up to him, none of us knew exactly how she had come to be able to handle him, but were very envious of her.

The lady she was introducing me to seemed nice, her smile very engaging. Then just like that Glenda went to talk to someone else, leaving me with Gwen. She made small talk with me for a couple of minutes, then grabbed a hold of my elbow and led me to a separate room. I was shown to a sofa, and she sat right next to me. Gwen quizzed me on answers that I would give a customer when helping them with their software, carefully listening to my responses. This went on for several minutes, I answered the best that I could but wondered why she was questioning me instead of presiding over the meeting as Glenda’s boss usually did.

I was asked about my outfit, where I had got it and if I dressed like this all the time. I made the mistake of telling her that my girlfriend helped me purchase it, and no I usually did not dress this fancy. The next question baffled me for a moment, she wanted to know if I could dress like this all the time if required. I didn’t take the time to think about the answer so just blurted out sure if it is required.

Apparently, that ended the question and answer period as she led me back to the meeting room. I headed to the seats in front of the podium, but Gwen held my arm and led me up to the podium instead. Oh, crap was my first thought, what have I done now. Then I immediately thought of being outed to all of the rest of the technicians as a male and what the company thought of anybody that engaged in that type of behavior. Glenda came to stand next to me, holding my arm, I presume to make sure I would not wander away. Gwen started the meeting while I just stood there, almost sick with worry.

The lady is actually the COO of the company, technically Glenda’s boss but several layers up the management pyramid. She turned to Glenda and introduced her as overall supervisor for all computer software support. Of course everyone applauded, Glenda was well liked and deserved the promotion. Then Gwen asked everyone to support Tina, their new head of technical software support. I looked around for this Tina person but no one stepped forward. Then Glenda whispered in my ear that I was Tina, causing me to gasp and almost faint. If it hadn’t been for Gwen and her holding my arms I probably would have.

I did hear some applause, then Gwen covered some more mundane aspects of the meeting, three more modules of software that will be added to our roster of supported software. Tina will get with each of you to teach you the basics in the next couple of weeks. It will be done via live chat, a much better use of time and resources. With that she ended the meeting.

I was congratulated along with Glenda by most of the techs, none of them wanting to get on our bad side. Whether no one caught on to my new female look or were just too afraid to mention it I will never know. Eventually everyone left except for Gwen, Glenda and me. Glenda gave me such a smirk but laid it all out in plain easy to understand English.

You have a job here for as long as you wish, a job as a female that is immaculately dressed and responsible for forty -five software technicians. You are responsible for their interaction with our customers, and the result the complete satisfaction of our customers. I expect a visit from you each week to my office at company headquarters where we will talk about any problems and how you have handled them. I insist on a drop dead look, since you represent our company.

Now a tech from computer hardware will be by later today to install your new computer. With it you can listen to any tech as they help their customer and then message them if something needs to be corrected. As far as pay goes, if you are deemed presentable all the time you will draw twice what you are getting now, plus we will pick up all of your beauty salon treatments. Clothes, however, are your responsibility entirely.

Now, one other matter to discuss. The company has need of a spokesperson for what we do, one that will appear in ads that the software companies are required to run, stating what we do for customer support. The logical choice is standing before us, so a simple yes or no is all we need. I managed a huh and Glenda quickly added that would be fine. Welcome Tina, to Consolidated Software Support, our prettiest spokesperson in quite a while.

Now you need to get out front, Julie is waiting anxiously to see you and you have quite a bit to tell her. After the tech comes by to install your new computer this afternoon, maybe a nice meal out might be appropriate for your significant other. I will see you online tomorrow morning at eight AM, be sure you are dressed nicely.

Just like that I am a female, a supervisor and now a company spokesperson. It all started when I became a beauty school model, no telling what will happen next. Incidentally, Julie was thrilled with my news, she has accepted a job as a cosmetologist at the same salon I was taken to for my figure makeover. She assured me I would have twice weekly appointments for my beauty needs, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. Oh well, I guess I should be thankful for what I received, a fairy tale life awaiting me, pampered, pretty and female.

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