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Another lost story by "N"

It was hard to believe that Frank even remembered me; sure, we had been friends at school but I hadn’t heard from him in nearly 5 years. The telephone call was therefore a surprise, the offer of staying in his house even more so but, shocked as I was, I was curious enough about how he was getting on to agree to the visit.

We communicated by e-mail for the next couple of weeks, sorting out directions, what I was to bring and so on. It turned out that Frank had done well after leaving our small town and he was now a successful businessman working in the clothing industry as a fashion designer. The house was a testament to his success and I couldn’t help but feel slightly envious as I printed off the picture of Frank’s huge mansion from my computer. Frank explained that the house was secluded and while he was away I should be able to get on with any work I wanted to do or just relax and look around. The nearest town was several miles away and, worried about security while he was on vacation, he had decided to look up some old friends who might be able to housesit for him. I was the first one who had been available at such short notice he told me.

Eventually, I found myself sitting on a train, clutching a small case and a packed lunch. My old friend had insisted that I travel light; apparently everything would be laid on at my well appointed new home for the next couple of weeks. I arrived just after noon and, stepping out of the taxi, I couldn’t help but gasp in awe at the fantastic place where I was to stay. Checking my instructions, I quickly found the key and let myself in and then, after a welcome cup of coffee, I set off to explore. There were several bedrooms on the upper floor but I was surprised to find that Frank didn’t seem to have a room of his own. In fact, all the bedrooms seemed to be decorated in a decidedly feminine style and, from the clothes in the wardrobes, I guessed that either Frank did a lot of entertaining or was living with at least 5 women. I laughed. I was between girlfriends at the moment and, even though I viewed myself as a reasonably attractive, none of the local girls seemed that interested. I peered at myself in one of Frank’s numerous mirrors; I had a build best described as ‘slight’ though my features were handsome enough. I ran a hand through my dark hair, which I wore unfashionably long and sighed, wondering if any of my friend’s female admirers might pay a surprise visit.

Finding nothing specific in the instructions, I selected the most spacious bedroom and unpacked my case, taking care not to disturb the cosmetics, brushes and combs that had been left on the dresser as I laid out my stuff. Frank had explained that the maid would pay me a visit the following day (she came once a week apparently) so I threw my spare jeans and underwear on a chair and went downstairs to relax in front of the television with a light snack.

My old friend had, rather strangely, left me some vitamins and a note with some more instructions in the kitchen; 2 tablets twice a day and a suggestion that I try his vegetable drinks in place of a meal every now and again. I had out on a little weight recently and my light physique did not carry it well so I took his advice and, after swallowing the tablets, I poured myself some of the cold drink from the refrigerator.

I threw myself on the comfortable leather sofa and turned on the TV. I guess I must have dozed as, when I woke, it was already dark outside and the channel was now just noise. I blearily pressed ‘play’ on the video remote control...

"Hi Tom." A rather seductive voice purred from the set. "I’m Francesca. I hope you’ve settled in okay."

I turned to the TV in surprise and gasped as one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen peered back at from the picture. She laughed.

"I’m one of Frank’s models." She explained, laughing gently. "Frank asked me to do this video for you to get you acquainted with life in the house here and explain a little about what you might find to keep yourself entertained."

She had the most soothing voice and I soon fell back into the sofa while I listened intently.

"You’ve probably found the vitamin supplements already." She continued softly. "And you should help yourself to anything in the kitchen of course. There’s plenty of clothes upstairs and please feel free to use any of the stuff on your dresser."

I laughed at this suggestion, remembering that everything I had found so far consisted almost entirely of makeup and women’s hair accessories..

"As you’ve probably guessed already, quite a few of the models stay here so not all the clothes and cosmetics will be to your liking but, as you’ll be staying for a couple of weeks, please use what you like. There’s no one else around most of the time so I wouldn’t worry too much about whatever you end up wearing."

I suppose I should have been surprised by this vague suggestion but I was already far too tired to care much about it. I just continued watching the beautiful woman, entranced by her soothing voice and the gentle command of her soft words. While I gazed at the screen, the woman turned to her dresser and I finally recognised the room where she had been filmed; it was my room. I studied her movements with a strange intensity as she applied creams to her pretty face and brushed out her hair before retiring.

"Goodnight Tom." She whispered, reaching towards the camera. "I’m sure you’ll find your stay most enjoyable."

The picture then blurred for a moment before the original content of the video appeared on the screen. I assumed that it was a corporate training video for the company models but I remained glued to the set as I absorbed instructions on facial cleansing, hair styling and the application of cosmetics. I found it all strangely enticing for some reason. When I finally went to bed, I couldn’t resist trying some of the cleansing lotion on my dresser and, surprisingly, I did feel better afterwards with softer and cleaner skin and the lingering perfume of the fragrant white cream. I resisted the peculiar compulsion to do something with my hair and then undressed. Slipping between the overly feminine pink satin sheets, I had the best night’s sleep I could remember.


_____________________________

I woke the following morning to the delightful smell of fresh coffee and rolls. The maid, an attractive 19-year old called Samantha, appeared at the doorway with a tray and a large bag. While I sipped the coffee, I took the vitamins she had placed on the tray and asked her what the bag was for.

"Frank said that you might like a facial this morning Mr Gray." She explained as she tidied up around me. "I’m a trained beautician and most of my male clients seem to enjoy being pampered almost as much as their wives. Frank insists on looking after his skin and you’ll feel great afterwards."

I laughed and sank back into the bedclothes.

"Where do you want me?"

"Right where you are will be fine." She said. "I’ll just put some music on to help you relax..."

The music turned out to be some New Age noise, whale-song and waves lapping on a beach but, despite my cynicism, it certainly relaxed me and, before long, I was slipping in and out of unconsciousness while Samantha applied her powders and lotions to my skin. I remember wondering if I should have shaved first but my beautician explained that the depilatory creams were far more effective than any razor and she continued working on me while I dozed. I woke again to feel a gentle tugging on my eyebrows.

"What are you doing now?" I asked dreamily.

"I’m almost finished actually." The girl replied. "I just wanted to shape your brows slightly; they were a little too bushy for your new look and, despite your naturally androgynous features, I can only achieve so much with cosmetics at this stage."

"Cosmetics?" I blurted out, now understanding why my face felt so tight and smooth.

"Of course." Samantha replied looking genuinely surprised. "I thought Frank had discussed this with you. All his male transformation models have this done and you look great in makeup, better than most of his full time models. Here, take a look."

She handed me a small mirror and I gasped loudly as my new face swam into view. Somehow, in my dreamy half sleep, I had been totally transformed and now the undeniably pretty features of a beautiful young woman stared back at me from the glass. Deep red lips, long false lashes and elaborate eye makeup all combined to complete the illusion of exaggerated femininity that I now possessed. I was horrified.

"I think there’s been some kind of mistake." I breathed, barely able to believe that the words came from my lips. "I assume that this all comes off."

Samantha nodded as she packed her bag.

"There’s cleanser on the dresser." She explained hurriedly, "But I’m afraid I’ve got to go now. I’m sorry if you don’t like what I’ve done but I wouldn’t worry about it too much; you’ll be alone for the rest of the day so nobody will see you."

I waited until I heard Samantha’s car heading up the drive before I rose. My face felt strangely tight and, all in all, I felt pretty peculiar too, especially when I caught fleeting glimpses of myself in Frank’s numerous mirrors. With the beautician’s words still ringing in my ears, I resolved not to worry about how I looked as, if she was correct, I would be alone for the rest of the day anyway. I decided to get dressed...

Unfortunately, there was another surprise in store for me; the maid had taken all my clothes to the laundry. I stood naked in front of the mirror, my feminine face now taunting me above my still masculine body, and wondered what to do. There were no dressing gowns in the room and the only other available clothes were the dresses and skirts I had found the previous evening in the closet. I was getting cold too so, steeling myself, I tried to find something suitable to wear. With goosebumps all over my body, I decided to put on some women’s tights to keep my legs warm and I then pulled a loose woollen dress from the darkness. Despite my obvious concerns about actually dressing as a woman for the first time in my life, I quickly pulled the short black gown over my shoulders and immediately felt a little better as the material insulated me from the cold.

I started to set off to try to find Frank’s heating system but caught myself in the mirror as I turned. I gasped loudly, hardly able to believe what I could see. A pretty young woman stared back at me from the glass, copying my every move, her face showing something of my surprise despite the lush cosmetics she wore so confidently. I shuddered slightly as I realised that, to all intents and purposes, I now looked completely feminine, a female version of my old self. Just as I tore my shocked gaze from the glass, the phone rang loudly and I ran across to the bedside cabinet to answer it.

"Hi Tom. It’s Frank. How are you getting on with everything?"

"Great." I lied convincingly, deciding not to spill the beans to my generous host. "A few surprises this morning but the house is great even if it is a little chilly."

Frank explained that the heating system was controlled from a shed outside and that I should do my best to make myself at home. We exchanged pleasantries, discussed Frank’s latest job and then I cradled the receiver, relieved that Frank didn’t seem to know anything about my strange experience. Before I could go out however, I realised that I would need some shoes. Just like my clothes, my comfortable sneakers had also disappeared. Taking a set of high-heeled sandals from the cupboard, I slipped them over my tights and tottered downstairs to find the heating system. Amazingly, in the space of just one hour, I had somehow been transformed from an ordinary heterosexual male into a pampered young woman, complete with cosmetics, a short black dress, tights and now, almost unbelievably, a pair of cute stiletto heels.

The rest of the morning passed in a daze. Frank’s home was simply too comfortable and too well appointed for me not to have a good time despite the horrors of my recent makeover. In fact, after a little more exploration, a light lunch and a short nap, I found myself back in the TV room flicking idly through Frank’s extensive video collection. I found one with a picture of a cute girl on the front mysteriously titled ‘Bringing out the Woman in You’ which I decided on a whim to watch.

Incredibly, I realised as I put the cassette into the video that I had almost forgotten what I was wearing! It was only then that I remembered the makeup and the dress and that I had actually been walking around in 3 or 4-inch heels all morning. I laughed loudly in the empty house and kicked the shoes off my feet as I lay down, surprised by how comfortable the stiletto heels had become after only a few hours practice.

The video was rather dull, just a few of Frank’s models strutting around a catwalk somewhere. The commentary explained that some of the beautiful women had once been men but I felt really tired and couldn’t be bothered turning off the set. Frank’s perverse taste in entertainment bothered me slightly but, after my own unwitting introduction to the world of cross-dressing, I could hardly complain. It was late afternoon when I finally managed to wake up enough to leave the strangely compelling video. I still felt incredibly tired and so, having little else to occupy myself, I decided to take a short nap. I was so fatigued, I took a couple of Frank’s vitamin tablets to perk myself up but they did nothing to increase my alertness so I wandered slowly up to my bedroom and set about preparing myself for bed. There was still nothing suitable to wear in the room so, reminding myself that no one would see me, I quickly pulled on a simple silk chemise and slipped between the welcoming pink sheets.

I drifted in and out of sleep for half an hour or so when I was rudely interrupted by the doorbell. Still half asleep, I unconsciously slipped my stocking-feet back into my feminine shoes and hurried to the door. It was only when I turned the handle that I remembered how I was dressed and, kicking myself, I shouted an apology to my surprised guest and retreated back down the hall.

"Tom. Don’t hide." A woman’s voice said softly. "I’m Doctor Farrell, Frank’s counsellor and hypnotherapist. He’s told me all about you so you’ve nothing to be ashamed of."

I began to explain that there had been a terrible mistake but Dr Farrell was having none of it. She ushered me back into the living room and ordered me to sit down and make myself comfortable. For some reason, I obeyed immediately and soon found myself sitting quietly on the sofa while she arranged some items from her bag on the coffee table.

"Here; take these." She said. "You’ll feel better in a few minutes and then we can begin."

I swallowed the tablets immediately despite my misgivings and began a hurried explanation of why she had found me in such an embarrassing predicament.

"Don’t worry Tom. In an hour or so, you’ll wonder what all the fuss was about. We’ll have everything sorted out in a jiffy."

"I’m sorry about being so flustered." I said hurriedly. "It’s just that I’m not used to being seen like this...I mean...well, it isn’t something I do every day. I was just sort of tricked into wearing makeup and then the maid took all my clothes..."

She interrupted me with a wave of her hand.

"It really doesn’t matter." Dr Farrell said matter-of-factly. "I deal with these kind of problems every day and we’ll soon having you feeling better about yourself. You are quite clearly very stressed by all this and my job will be to help you relax and forget your troubles for a while."

"You can? I’ve never been to a counsellor before..."

"Make yourself comfortable Tom. Lie back a little and listen to the music and my voice as you relax."

Within minutes, I felt the heavy mascara of my lashes pulling my eyelids gently closed as I fell into a deep hypnotic sleep. In this strange twilight world, I quickly found that I had no control over my thoughts, emotions and imagination at all. Dr Farrell took me skilfully from one hazy fantasy to the next without any trouble at all. Even the questions she asked seemed highly charged with some peculiar sexuality I barely understood but I could not resist her sonorous voice and, disappointingly quickly, I readily accepted these implanted desires as my own.

Did I prefer blondes or brunettes, she asked quietly, small breasts or large breasts, women in light makeup or heavy makeup and so on until I could only reply in a hoarse excited whisper. By the time she had finished, I could almost see the woman I had created in my imagination and then, it was over, time to return to the world of the living once again.

"How do you feel?" she asked. "You were a natural subject Tom, a deeply suggestible patient so you may feel a little disorientated for a while."

I nodded as I sat up and smoothed an errant crease from my dress, barely noticing how much better I now felt about my feminine appearance.

"I feel OK I guess." I murmured, still trying to come to terms with how submissive I had become. I do feel much more relaxed though. Thanks."

Dr Farrell smiled.

"I’ve made arrangements for some people to visit. Do you want to get out of those ridiculous clothes before they arrive?"

I looked down at my stockings and the delightfully tapered points of my heels before replying.

"I’m sure that this will be fine." I whispered, surprised by my confidence. "There’s still no sign of my old clothes so, if they don’t mind meeting me like this, I’m sure that it won’t matter too much."

"That’s the spirit." Dr Farrell said as she wandered over to the door. "Why don’t you make your way back to your dressing table while I let them in. The hairdresser will want to start right away."

I stood up to say goodbye and walked as gracefully as I could manage up the stairs. I heard voices as Dr Farrell showed some people in to the house and then, a few minutes later, Samantha the beautician joined me in my room.

"Hi Tom. I bet you weren’t expecting to see me again so soon."

I laughed.

"No, I suppose I wasn’t but there’s been so much going on here since you left. I can barely keep up."

She gently lifted my long dark hair and studied the strands for a moment before asking me to undress. Still confused and still feeling incredibly compliant, I reluctantly stepped out of my shoes and slowly took off my tights and the flattering black dress.

"Brunette wasn’t it?" Samantha asked as she unpacked a number of bottles and lotions. "The Doctor gave us your instructions before she left even though I must say, given your reaction this morning, I was surprised how radically different you wanted to look."

I smiled but didn’t really know what to say. I was still very confused and apparently completely unable to protest. Samantha took my bewilderment for agreement and began to wash my hair. An hour or so later, with my makeup completely redone, my eyebrows plucked to even finer lines and my body still stinging from yet more of the powerful depilatory creams, I found myself seated impatiently beneath a hairdryer waiting to be shown what had become of me during this latest makeover. I did not have long to wait. As soon as I was taken from beneath the drier, Samantha led me slowly over to the mirror and, yet again, I gasped in amazement at the transformation I had undergone.

A ravishing brunette gazed back at me from the glass, her lips covered in heavy crimson gloss and her eyes outlined in thick black kohl. For the first time, long false lashes had been added to my elaborately made-up eyes and, beneath the delicately arches of my brows, the effect was stunning. My long hair had been dyed a deep chestnut brown and, with fresh highlights and the loose curls of a recent perm, it lent me the seductive glamour of a sophisticated woman. I could barely believe that I now looked more like one of Frank’s attractive models than the man who had stepped off the train so innocently only a day before. More worrying still, the makeover had been so skilfully done, I didn’t even possess the slightly stronger lines and irregular skin of the transsexual ‘ladies’ I had watched in the video. Samantha’s cosmetics and the radical restyling of my hair had completely changed the sex of my reflection and, to all intents and purposes, I was now, above the neck at least, completely female.

Samantha grinned broadly as I struggled to comprehend what she had achieved. She must have noticed my confusion at the apparent ambiguity between my radically feminised face and the rest of my male body.

"How do you feel Tom?" she asked, tearing strips of a waxy substance from a packet she had just opened.

"I don’t really know." I replied honestly. "I’m still all mixed up I guess. There’s no denying that the makeup and hair is fantastic but I still feel...well...male I guess."

I ran my hands over my recently shaved chest as I spoke.

"I don’t really understand the emotions I’m feeling. I’m sure that I was quite violently opposed to all this earlier on but now I’m not sure how I feel about it anymore. Perhaps it was the videos I watched or Dr Farrell’s hypnosis and counselling but I’m just confused now. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to liking what you’ve done to my face and hair.
Who wouldn’t want to look this attractive? But the rest of my body is still mine, the old me and I guess the ambiguity is a little unsettling."

Samantha smiled, obviously impressed by my honesty and suggested that I slip out of my night-gown and lie down on the bed. I complied immediately and soon felt her warm hands working close to my groin. The young beautician was undeniably attractive but, strangely, I failed to get aroused and merely relaxed at the unfamiliar intimacy. My pleasure was short lived however as a jolt of pain made me yelp loudly. Samantha’s hands swam back into view as tears threatened to spoil my mascara. She proudly flourished a long strip of wax and giggled as she noticed me staring at the myriad of tiny hairs stuck to its surface.

"I know it hurts a little." She chided. "But, once I’ve waxed your bikini line and smoothed off the last of your chest hair, you’ll be able to try on the dress I’ve found for you. It’s an exquisite design made of soft black silk, fashionably short and cut very low at the front. You’ll find it very comfortable and, though you’ll probably balk at the idea of wearing something so revealing to start with, it will look incredibly glamorous."

She paused momentarily.

"I’ve got another surprise for you too." She added, continuing with the painful depilation of my groin and thighs. "Something you’ll need to help you fill the dress properly, just like a real woman would."

After this enigmatic statement, Samantha then repeated the waxing procedure on my chest before smearing a clear adhesive gel onto my reddening skin. I was just about to ask what she meant, when two flesh-coloured orbs swam into view. I panicked momentarily as the incredibly realistic breasts descended but then it was too late and I felt them being firmly attached to my welcoming skin.

"Oh god." I breathed. "What have you done? What are they?"

Samantha grinned happily.

"You’ll get used to them surprisingly quickly." She said softly. "Breasts of this quality cost a fortune and I’ve taken a great deal of care to match your skin tone. I used a semi-permanent surgical adhesive too so, once the silicone has warmed up a little to match your body temperature, you’d never know they weren’t real."

I sighed in defeat as the unfamiliar weight of my new bust swayed precariously beneath my transfixed gaze. They were warming up already and now felt much more secure. In a few minutes, I knew that the large breasts would feel like just another part of my evolving body, indistinguishable from the malleable flesh they had so easily transformed. I had little time to take in these changes however.

"You will need to wear a bra for the foreseeable future." Samantha offered helpfully. "But there’s plenty of underwear in your room here. You could even try some matching panties if you’re feeling daring and, now that you’ve had your bikini-line waxed, you’d look wonderful in a little lacy thong or something."

TO BE CONTINUED

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After Samantha left the room, I sat down quietly in front of the mirror and gazed at my reflection while I carefully closed the straps of the stiletto-heeled platform shoes around my ankles with trembling fingers. These were the highest heels I had ever worn but I couldn’t dismiss the thought that, with my beautifully styled long brown hair and elaborate makeup, I now looked like a seductive exotic dancer and the shoes somehow suited my glamorous new appearance.

Still struggling to come to terms with the flimsy lace bra that barely contained my massive breasts, I pulled on a pair of tiny black panties. I felt a little insecure in what was little more than a revealing thong but my bikini line was perfect and, surprisingly, they did hold everything in place quite comfortably. With that, I then reached for the little black dress Samantha had selected for me, the dress that would finally complete my transformation...

I wasn’t really sure what I did for the rest of the evening. I spent a great deal of time looking at myself in any number of Frank’s mirrors, wondering who I was and what I would become. Whatever Dr Farrell had done to me, she had somehow managed to suppress everything that I had thought as a man and the very core of my personality struggled with the terrible ambiguity of still being male but looking so incredibly beautiful as a woman. I knew that it was wrong, some part of me still fought this unwelcome conditioning but the temptations of my new body were too strong, the hypnotic suggestions too powerful to resist. Slowly, the beautiful woman in the mirror seduced me, gently suppressing my doubts and fears until there was nothing left but acceptance and, though it was difficult to admit, desire.

When I could barely keep my heavily made-up eyes open any longer, I took a diaphanous white negligee from the closet, tucked what was left of my manhood neatly inside a matching lace thong and went to bed. I didn’t know it then but this would be the last time I would wear what I had now come to accept as ‘ordinary’ feminine clothing and indulge my recently acquired passion for female attire so innocently. Doctor Farrell had other ideas and changing me into an unselfconscious beautiful transvestite was only the beginning of her ambitious plan.

I was yet to discover that there was a darker and in some ways even more compelling side to my transformation, a transformation that would soon encompass more than just my appearance. I was unaware of the dark seed the doctor had implanted deep in my subconscious but it was already germinating in my fertile imagination, changing me more permanently than I could have believed possible. My personality was being carefully prepared for these changes so that I would eventually welcome the unwholesome desires she had implanted during hypnosis. Even my body would betray me, the creeping emasculation of my manly form already assured by the high doses of feminising hormones I was taking every time I swallowed one of Frank’s ‘vitamin’ tablets.

My corruption, had I known it, was already assured, my conversion into their dark congregation virtually guaranteed by the manipulation of my mind and the chemical feminisation of my body.

But I knew nothing of this then and I spent the night dreaming of beautiful clothes and extravagant high heels. For the time being at least, Tom was no longer part of my life, his masculine presence now little more than a fading memory as my personality adapted to its new sexuality.



_____________________________

I noticed the new addition to my room as soon as I woke up. A long blond wig had been placed on an ornate mannequin at the foot of the bed and, as I eased
myself out of bed and into the familiar elevation of my heels, I giggled softly to myself at this unexpected gift. I wasn’t sure what came over me but I knew that I had to try it on. I spent a few minutes tidying up my makeup before seating myself in front of the mirror and then, a moment later, I took the beautiful hairpiece in trembling hands to carefully pull it over my head.

I was now a ravishing platinum blond and the effect was startling. I must have stared at my new reflection for 15 minutes before I managed to tear myself away from the mirror to take the tablets my mystery benefactor had left by the bed.

There were more surprises in store for me it seemed. I threw open the closet door to reveal an array of new clothes that had somehow been placed in the cupboard of my room. However, they weren’t the flattering feminine styles I had grown accustomed to. Instead, my head reeled with the leather and...I could hardly believe it...rubber outfits that gleamed at me from the darkness. I wondered, after all that had been done to me, whether or not I would dare to even think of trying something on but my imagination was already running wild. I struggled with the forbidden promise of those dark clothes for over an hour before the phone rang and Dr Farrell’s soothing tones greeted me warmly.

"Tom, how are you getting on?" she said eagerly. "I assume you’ve found our little gifts. Have you tried anything on yet"

I began a reply but the doctor interrupted me with a single word.

"Sleep." She commanded.

I cradled the receiver gently and moved slowly back up to my room, all my doubts and fears extinguished by whatever instructions she had given me during the call. A few moments later, I felt the cold caress of stiff leather around my waist as I slowly tightened the straps of my first corset. Unbelievably, it felt wonderful to be so firmly constrained and the effect on my figure was amazing. After I had tightened every last buckle, I turned to the mirror and gasped as I finally saw what this latest garment had done to my waist. I had been steadily losing weight since the day I arrived but, with the corset secured, the change to my body was frightening. I now looked every inch the glamorous model and the glistening black leather sent shudders of pleasure through me with every breath.

I knew then that I was completely lost, my soul corrupted by the gloss black allure of these new clothes. Brushing the hair of my long blond wig from its ponytail, I took a gloss PVC skirt and top from the wardrobe and eagerly slipped them on. I was now ready to face the day.

It was actually Samantha who first introduced me to the pleasures of wearing rubber. I almost fell over in surprise when she arrived at the door wearing a fetishistic long latex dress, high heeled patent leather ankle boots and with her hair tied up in a strict bun. She quickly explained that Frank liked his guests to wear rubber in the privacy of the house and asked casually if I had ever considered trying it myself. My heart leaped beneath the rigid stays of my corset as I explained that I could never consider wearing anything so provocative myself.

"Don’t be silly Tom." She scolded me gently. "You’d look beautiful in something a little more daring and you’ve already tried on the corset. We’ve got loads of time this morning. Why don’t we play at dressing up?"

She smiled at me cheekily and I nodded.

"Good. It’s settled then." She said immediately, taking me by the hand to lead me back to the dressing room. "I’ve got just the thing for a beginner like you."

As she prepared me for my first experience of fetish clothing, I quickly grew accustomed to seeing her in her own latex outfit and, after a few minutes of perfectly ordinary conversation, the fact that I was actually talking to a woman dressed completely in highly polished rubber no longer seemed so strange. By the time she had applied talc to my arms and legs, I was already eager to try on my outfit.

Samantha helped me to dress, first in clinging rubber stockings and the now obligatory high stiletto heels and then matching shoulder-length gloves. The gloss black material felt incredible against my tingling skin and, with my strangely muted sense of touch, I couldn’t help but run my fingers along the smooth sheen of my rubberised legs. I shuddered once again at the amazing sensations I was experiencing in this tactile material.

"Happy?" Samantha asked.

"Delirious." I replied dreamily, already lifting my blackened arms to help her ease the skimpy latex of the fetishistic maid’s outfit over my head. "I never realised that it would feel this good. Are there more clothes like this in the house?"

"Of course. Frank insisted on it." Samantha said laughing. "You’ll have plenty of time before the others arrive this afternoon to try everything on. You might even want to select something special to wear when you meet everybody later on."

I hesitated, even as the cool latex of the maid’s uniform settled around my waist.

"There are people coming to see me later?" I asked quietly.

"Not just to see you, Tom, though they’re all keen to meet you of course. Frank has arranged a photo-shoot later on today and some of his models are posing. There will be a photographer too I assume and I’m doing the makeup and everything."

Samantha paused for a moment.

"I think that Frank was hoping you might take part actually." She said softly. "You’re definitely pretty enough and, as it’s a rubberwear shoot, you certainly look the part now."

She turned me around to face the mirror as she spoke and, despite my trepidation about actually having to meet other people in my current state, I felt another frisson of pleasure tingle through my flesh as I gazed at my reflection.

"Frank knows about all this?" I eventually summoned up the courage to ask as I pirouetted on my heels to get a better view of my encased body.

"He’s looking forward to seeing how you’re getting on for himself in a week or so." Samantha replied matter-of-factly. "He’s always keen on the new ‘girls’ and, as you were already pretty good friends, I’m sure he’ll pay you particular attention."

I shuddered in disgust and embarrassment as I realised that Frank had planned my transformation all along. How could I have been so naive, so stupid as to let all this happen to me? I was suddenly overcome with self-loathing and I felt my eyes welling up with tears.

"Oh, don’t cry Tom. It’s not so bad. You’re bound to be a little confused. After all, it’s only been a few days since we started all this and you’ve done incredibly well. You’re more beautiful than any of the other models he employs and, if you decide to have some photographs taken, the pay is excellent. I'm sure you'll be allowed to stay on here if you like, especially if your relationship with Frank takes off..."

"I’m not a homosexual Samantha." I blurted out, immediately regretting my anger. "I don’t even understand why I enjoy looking like a woman so much."

I began to sob loudly.

"The hormones are making you emotional." Samantha explained. "After a while, they’ll start to change your sexual orientation as well but you mustn’t worry about that yet. In a week or so, you’ll understand everything more clearly and Frank’s an eligible young bachelor. Regardless of how your own sexuality develops, he’s bound to find you attractive now so you’d best be prepared to let him down gently if you’re not sure."

"Hormones?" I asked as I dried my tears and unconsciously smoothed an errant crease from the front of my latex dress. "What hormones?"

"Didn’t Dr Farrell tell you." Samantha asked with unfeigned surprise. "You’ve been taking feminising drugs since the day you arrived. You must have noticed that you haven’t had to shave in the morning and your skin should feel smoother by now too."

I groaned, now understanding why my body had been changing so quickly. I felt like I had been physically punched with the news.

"Would you mind if I spent some time alone Sam?" I said quietly. "I need to think about all this before everyone arrives this afternoon"

I spent an hour or so alone I my room coming to terms with the fact that I was now more than just a simple transvestite. Unwittingly, I had been fed feminising hormones and my body was already changing more permanently than I had expected. I couldn’t even bring myself to consider the other changes that the drugs might precipitate. What if Samantha was right? What if I did find my old school chum attractive? What would I do?

I eventually cheered myself up by trying on an elaborate outfit from my closet. The sleek black rubber seemed to protect me from my fears and it felt like a kind of armour as I carefully eased it on.

The skin-tight latex skirt and glamorous jacket comforted me somehow and, with a long straight wig, I felt anonymous and safe. My legs were still encased in their gloss black stockings and, with six-inch heels, I no longer felt like Tom at all. I was ‘that woman’ again and she seemed much more relaxed about everything than her male predecessor.

"You should consider giving her a name." Samantha interrupted from the doorway. "I’m sorry about cutting in but I wanted to see if you were feeling any better and… well… most of the ‘girls’ going through here adjust more quickly once they’ve taken a more suitable name. I was thinking that Tina might be nice and, as the initial is the same, you wouldn’t have to change your bank details or anything."

"I don’t think I’ll be doing this permanently." I replied, smiling at my new friend. "But, you’re right about the name. Tina does sound better now that I’m feeling all feminine again. Anyway, nobody with breasts this size should be known as Tom."

We laughed and I hugged Samantha closely as my new name became just another part of my female persona. The alter-ego that I had created, now given a name, seemed stronger than ever before and, as we chatted, my worries and fears receded a little. Tina definitely enjoyed Samantha’s company and I hoped that we would stay friends when this was all over.

After a light lunch, Samantha helped Tina to dress to meet her guests. I elected to wear a revealing high-crotch latex body suit with a net panel at the front to flaunt the large breasts of which I was justifiably proud. Rubber stockings and outrageous platform stilettos completed my outfit and I looked every inch the dedicated fetish queen when I was finished.. Samantha wore a beautiful rubber corset, high heels and a simple net dress and, together, we looked ravishing.

"This is going to drive the men crazy." Samantha purred. "You’ll knock em dead in that outfit."

"Thanks for the compliment." I sighed. "But I’m still not sure I’m ready to deal with men fawning all over me just yet."

Samantha winked.

"You’ll soon get used to it." She said softly. "And, who knows, you might even find you enjoy all the attention after a while."

I drank a little wine as the guests arrived and I was surprised at how normal they all seemed. The woman were all beautiful of course; Frank only selected the most glamorous models and even the men were all polite and nice. No one seemed to bat an eyelid at being welcomed into the house by a pretty transsexual (that was how I saw myself now) and, once everyone had started getting ready for the photo-shoot, my outfit blended in perfectly. It was hard to believe but, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was part of a crowd. I felt completely at ease with these people and the fact that, beneath the layers of makeup and rubber, I was still a man didn’t seem important anymore.

It didn’t take many more glasses of wine before Samantha convinced me to have some photos taken.

"Tina." she called loudly. "We’re ready for you now. I’ll help you get ready."

I kept 2 of the photos, my favourites from the shoot and had them framed. They greeted me every morning when I woke and I saw them last thing at night before I went to sleep. In one, I was a gleaming dominatrix, complete with whip and a thick leather collar. Samantha had sealed me in a wonderful leather corset that really lifted my breasts. The latex stockings and seven-inch stiletto heels showed off my legs to perfection and Samantha had done amazing things with my hair.

The other photograph was more overtly fetishistic. I had been convinced to try on a proper latex catsuit by one of the other models and, before I really knew what was going on, Samantha had fitted me with some sort of elaborate headpiece. I had never worn a catsuit before and certainly not such an exquisite ‘hat’ but, for some reason, I really liked the ensemble and it was an easy choice for the photo frame.

Samantha ribbed me constantly about the rest of the pictures. I had seemingly got rather carried away with some of the other models and, in at least a couple of the scenes, with Samantha too. The one where we were dressed as rubber nurses was particularly memorable but there were others where we both wore complete latex helmets or revealing rubber tops that were equally erotic. I laughed at how excited she had been about me touching her. Luckily Frank didn’t seem to mind at all...


_____________________________

I wore my favourite gold latex dress to greet Frank when he arrived, kissing him warmly as he held me close in a passionate embrace. I no longer needed
to wear the false breasts now that he had paid handsomely for my breast augmentation. Samantha regularly styled my hair and now that I was a ‘natural’ platinum blond, I no longer need to wear a wig.

Even though we were lovers, Frank insisted that I receive a salary for my modelling work and this paid for a nose job and some facial reshaping, necessary for my permanent transformation into a true woman. The hormones I took regularly kept my waist narrow, my skin smooth and had given me the broader hips that men seemed to find so attractive.

In a few month’s time, I would have saved up enough money to pay for the complete gender reassignment that I now craved. We were both looking forward to the day that I would finally become a real woman.


The End

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I found the time to get into two outfits this week. Here's the first:



The leopard-print blouse is by Chaps, a thrift shop find in March 2014; the leopard-print skirt is by Miss Majesty, one of my last purchases at Fashion Bug before they went out of business in November 2012; the boots Jaclyn Smith "Tiana" black suede boots, from Kmart in October 2013. Other accessories are a yellow bow, gold jewelry, and natural hose.



I think I've finally figured out the settings on the new camera a little better...and I'm trying some new looks with the eyes.


More pics on Flickr; another outfit later today or tomorrow; and please participate in the survey to the right.

The second outfit from Thursday:



The rust dress is by Robbie Bee, bought at Ross in November 2014; the shoes are Christian Siriano "Shanghai" neutral peep-toe pumps, from Payless in April 2011. Other accessories are a brown fedora, silver and chunky jewelry, and natural hose.



Hats always add to a portrait:


More pics on Flickr; on Saturday, I begin my annual three days en femme, with a lot of new clothes; and please participate in the survey to the right.

The last of the lost stories....

I had known Claire for more then four years, since we had started at the office together. At first we hadn't got on too well, then there was a time after a Christmas party when we were going out, and now we were just colleagues.

We probably would never see each other if we didn't catch the same train every morning. Claire had soon shown through her uncanny acumen that she was much more profitable than me and had secured two promotions that I'd missed as well as a much nicer office. She looked the part too, with her sharp business trouser suits, conservative ponytail blonde hair and no-nonsense manner.

Every morning we'd sit at a seat with a table, facing the way we were going, and chat or read the paper or just sit. We always had each other to talk to, and didn't really mix with the other passengers. There was one chap I knew from a chess club I had attended once or twice a year or so ago, but we never said more than hello. Other than that, we knew
no-one. For this reason, we would make up names for our fellow commuters.

There was "Aryan Boy", who always wore a very smart suit but looked as though he should have been in a promotional video for the master race. "The Executive Shepherd", or "Ex-Shep" also always wore a suit, and every day except Friday took his border collie with him to work. What was that all about?

We always tried to avoid "Warlock", who was a slab of a man, about twenty years old, with a booming voice and flaming hair. At first we'd called him "Firetop Mountain". He talked with great authority about stupid things and no-one else could concentrate on anything else while he spoke.

Most important was "Glamour Girlfriend", or "GG". Just a month previously, an earlier train had been cancelled, or moved, or something, and a few new faces had joined our morning vigil on the spartan rural platform. "Glamour Girlfriend" had at first been "Glamour Girl", but Claire teased me so much about the way I looked at her, and about how I wished she was my girlfriend, that her name had changed.

But was she worth looking at! She had an aristocratic, otherworldly look, like a Russian Princess, or a femme fatale from darkly arty French film. Dark shimmering chestnut hair, always sleek, as though the morning sun slipped off it, and blue eyes the colour of the sky on a deep winter's day. Not just pale blue, but pale and peaceful blue, and still, and quiet, and oddly compelling.

She deserved her glamorous prefix, as she was always the best dressed woman on the platform. Always tidy, her short skirts were never unbecoming, and her legs were shapely and so long that I could gaze at them all morning and still never see enough, ending in the high heels she always wore. Like the photos in society magazines, she made stilettos look classy. Black leather, and four inches high, I sometimes felt funny just at the thought of her standing there in the morning.

And that was before she's started sitting opposite us in our carriage. Not directly opposite our table, but just on the other side, facing the opposite way to the way the train travelled. This meant that every morning I started the day by watching her glide into her seat, black nyloned knees together, and cross her legs to reveal a heart-stopping perfect thigh framed by the hem of her skirt and the hanging high heel, under a topping of tempting but not quite visible cleavage.

Then the show would start. While GG stood on the platform shining with natural beauty, her cheeks red like sun-blushed pippin apples in the autumn, once on the train she would take out her make-up bag. She only used three things: lipstick, mascara and eye shadow, but she applied them with such care and elegance that I could hardly bear to watch. For a month now I had been arriving at work aroused.

The eye shadow would come first, a variety of shades depending on her outfit for the day. Smudged and smoky, dusky, or blue and airy to match her eyes. To gaze into those eyes all day and agree to anything she said!

Then the mascara. Her eyelashes would blossom under the spell of her wand, from thick and fluttery to black and striking. To feel them brush against my cheek!

And finally her lipstick. On some days I had to look away. She would take it slowly out from the small bag, and extend it. Deep and red, she would hold the mirror still, and slowly, slowly, draw the lipstick across her already pink lips. Again and again, left and right, top lip and bottom, glossier and glossier, back and forth, warm red lipstick...To kiss those lips!

Two or three times in the last week I had found myself staring longingly at her as she did this, surprised to have arrived at the station.

I think I must have been the only man in the morning eager to get to the platform and to board the train for work. I was in heaven.


_____________________________

Claire and I hadn't been talking much. We hadn't argued or anything, but we just seemed to be doing more sitting quietly than chatting. My mornings were busy anyway, watching my Glamour Girlfriend whilst trying to appear as though I was actually looking out of the window or gazing down the carriage.

Claire was gazing too, and I presumed she was tired, or thinking about her paper. That's how you get promotions, after all, by working hard and keeping up with breaking news, and not by spending your days dreaming of creamy red lipstick and long legs in high heels...

This Thursday morning was the same. I had knocked on her door and she had been waiting for me. We had stood not talking, waiting for the train, our breath drifting away from us in clouds, when then she came and stood before and to the left of us.

I felt my breath catch in my throat, the cold air burning. She was wearing her usual thin black nylons, and had walked very assuredly in her very high heels despite the frost and treacherous nature of the cobbled ground. With her back to us, I watched her hair playing in the breeze until the train arrived.

That was when the day changed. "Headphones Babe" was onto the train before us, and sitting the space normally occupied by GG. She sprawled herself back, turned up the volume and closed her eyes. We knew that was her done for the duration. She wouldn't twitch until we arrived.

My heart sank. No lipstick to watch! No legs to sigh over!

And then she sat down at our table. Directly opposite Claire.

I didn't know where to look. I could feel my cheeks blush hot and I stared fixedly out of the window. I heard the shush of her legs as she crossed them and felt a stirring in my groin. Claire shifted uncomfortably in her seat and I could tell that she didn't know where to look either.

The train moved off, and out came her bag. I could see what she was doing in her reflection in the window, and my trousers were getting tight. Blue eye shadow today, carefully applied onto her half-closed eyelids. Slow sweeps of the mascara. Don't look, I told myself. You'd probably drool and get yourself arrested.

Then the lipstick. Today I could not only see the deep warm red colour of it, but could discern a particular perfume as well. I watched in the window as she raised it to her pouting lips. To kiss those lips! To feel such creamy softness on my own lips, such perfume!

I couldn't help it. My head slowly turned almost against my will. I could see through my peripheral vision the slow repeated movement of the lipstick, back and forth on her full bottom lip. I could smell the scent of it, rising, rising, in my chest and my groin. It was red, it smelt good. It looked so rich, so smooth, so luscious. To kiss those lips! To feel such softness on my own lips! To feel her lipstick on my lips! Soft smooth lipstick on my lips!

We were at the station. I blinked. Had I been staring at her all the way, at her lips? Had she not noticed? She was zipping up her bag, standing up very quickly, flicking her hair, leaving.

I glanced at Claire, expecting her to laugh at me and to say that she was going to tell all our remaining mutual friends at the office. But Claire was staring too. She looked glazed, half-smiling, breathing lightly. She spoke softly as her eyes slowly focused on the table, directly on...

"She's left..."

Her lipstick.

Claire snapped back.

"I'll have to take it," she declared to me, "and give it back tomorrow. I couldn't bear to be without my lipstick after all."

I looked after her as she bundled it into her bag and alighted. Claire hardly ever wore lipstick.

TO BE CONTINUED

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The next morning I knocked on Claire's door. Friday, I thought. "Ex-Shep'll be just Ex today."

"Come in!" I heard her muffle from somewhere indoors. I groaned inside. This always meant one of two things. Either she had lost some files that she was working on at home, or that she was up working so late last night that she'd slept in.

I let myself in and went through to the kitchen.

"Won't be a minute!" Came drifting down from upstairs, so I didn't put the kettle on. When this happened, we usually missed the normal train and had to catch the later one in sixteen minutes. I hoped that this was unlikely, as I was hoping to be around when Claire returned the lipstick. Introduce ourselves, maybe. If we had to catch the later train, this would not be happening.

Happily enough though, at that moment I heard Claire skipping about upstairs closing doors, obviously ready. I picked up my briefcase and went to the hall, about to call out something to the effect of "shall we go?" when Claire stepped down into view.

What a transformation! She was wearing a short black skirt, two inches above her knee, and she had great legs. The skirt was tight, and as she stepped down the stairs, it pulled from one leg to the other. She stepped carefully in some strappy high-heeled shoes that I'd never seen before, making her legs look even longer in their thin night-black tights.

She had the same black jacket and dark wine-coloured blouse as normal, but it was undone to the second button and showed more of her chest than I'd seen since we had been dating. Her hair, not tied back, hung in waves of gold around her smiling face. Smiling at me.

"Close your mouth!" she laughed, pushing my jaw back up so that my teeth clinked. "I'm not sure about these shoes, what do you think?" She struck a pose before me, leaning on the banister. I couldn't talk. She had never looked like this before, never!

"I guess you like them then!" she concluded with mock dignity, throwing back her head and pushing my jaw shut again. "Good. Shall we?"

She offered me her arm. Taking it and leaving the house, I felt like we were going to the theatre, not to work. As she locked the door behind us, the train sounded its horn in the distance.

"Come on!" gushed Claire, grasping my arm again. "We'll have to rush and you'll have to help me!"

As we rushed to the station, a four minute walk, I strode and Claire took tiny quick steps.

"Sorry if I'm slowing you down," she twinkled, "but that's the price you pay for looking good!"

"You look great," I agreed, finally finding my voice. "But isn't it a bit of a change of image?"

"I love it!" answered Claire, glancing up at me. "I should have changed my image a long time ago!"

We missed the train. It was pulling away as we bundled onto the empty platform. Birds squawked above us, carrying twigs, as we sat down on the bench.

"I think you're right about the shoes," continued Claire as though she hadn't seen the train. "High heels make you look so special! I always feel special when I'm wearing them, don't you?"

"You look good," I agreed, "but I've never worn them, so I wouldn't know."

"Oh, you know what I mean!" she chided, frowning slightly and looking sideways at me. "I think they set off the tights really well. I don't need to ask you if you agree with that!" She lifted her legs up and ran her hands down them, smiling and purring, pausing at her shoes. "Do I?"

She was right. Again I could feel myself becoming aroused. It was like old times, except that Claire had never been much of a tease before. She'd always been pretty straight.

"I thought about wearing stockings," she went on, shuffling just a tiny bit closer to me, "but I decided not for work. I thought about it this morning. Black stockings, rolled up my legs, smooth and sheer... I was going to wear my basque... But I decided to keep that for tonight."

What was she saying? I could hardly keep my eyes in their sockets, and my breathing regular! Was this Claire, or her sexy evil twin?

"Are you, er, going out tonight, then?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly.

"Wouldn't you like to know, Mr Bulgy!" she cooed, giving my leg a squeeze.

Bulging I was as the train pulled up. And confused. This was most unlike Claire, but it was very exciting. I was single, and she was single, and I was looking forward to calling her on the internal phone at work to ask if she was going to be busy over the weekend.

We sat down at the table most similar to our normal place on this later train. As I sat, Claire just put her bag on the seat beside me and slid instead into the space opposite. Almost as soon as the train pulled quietly away, she fished inside her jacket and pulled out some makeup.

"I've seen you watching your Glamour Girlfriend putting this on," she murmured. "You love it. You watch her as she puts it all on. Do I do it as well?" I watched, confused but happily excited as she applied it, and almost hit my head on the parcel rack when she rubbed her foot up my leg.


_______________________________

I didn't get to call Claire all day, but I thought about nothing else. It was a tough day, and I found it hard to concentrate on my work. There was plenty to do, and I worked with no break until six forty-five.

Sitting back in my chair, examining the inbox, I reckoned I could leave it at that. I hadn't finished, but it was the weekend, and I'd done most of it anyway.

A knock on the door preceded Claire peeping around.

"Are you coming?" She asked. I was pleased and a little surprised. We didn't normally travel home together, as we finished at different times. She sidled her leg around the door as she swung there on the handle, her high heels making my mind up for me.

"I've just finished," I replied. "Hang on, I'll get my coat."

The main train station was crowded, but after a few stops the carriage was almost empty.

Claire reached into her jacket again. This time the only thing she pulled out apart from a small mirror was a lipstick.

"Isn't that Glamour Girlfriend's lipstick?" I asked, noticing it was the same one from yesterday.

"It is," she replied, "I realised last night that I've never worn a colour like this. I've always used pink or brown. I was curious, so I just tried a little bit, and it was great. Do you think it suits me?"

"Do you really think you should be using other people's lipstick?" I asked, frowning. Claire undid the top and extended it. "You can hardly give it back now that you've..."

But she was applying it already. The colour, the smell, and Claire... "I like it," she said, simply. "And so do you." She applied it thickly to her bottom lip, moving left and right. She looked hot. I felt hot for her. She pursed her top lip, and smoothed it across. I could see nothing but the deep red colour of the lipstick, and the perfume seemed to fill my head like expensive wine.

To kiss those lips...

Slowly she smacked her lips together, looking at herself in her little mirror. "I feel sexy when I wear lipstick. Don't you?"

To kiss those lips... To feel her lipstick on my lips...

"Yes." I whispered. She lowered the mirror and looked at me directly. Again she raised the lipstick and reapplied it.

"I feel like a woman when I wear lipstick. Don't you?" Warmth, like the sun in the evening, and smooth guitar chords filled my mind. I saw the colours swirling, red, crimson, Claire's lips. I wasn't quite sure what she was asking me, but it was good. "Yes..." I replied.

To kiss those lips... Soft smooth lipstick on my lips... The creamy feel of the lipstick on my lips...

Again, she raised the lipstick. Leaning forwards on the table, her cleavage showing, her blonde hair falling over her forehead, again she reapplied the lipstick.

"I love to wear lipstick," she went on, quietly, "Don't you?"

The scent, the perfume, the lipstick, I was dizzy. My head swam. Claire moved before me, lipstick in hand, gliding over her lips, applying it and reapplying it, deep deep red...

What was she asking me? If I wanted to wear lipstick? I wanted to agree with her, but I didn't want to wear it. I wanted her to wear it. I wanted her to keep on applying that smooth red lipstick.

To kiss those lips... Soft smooth lipstick on my lips... The creamy feel of the lipstick on my lips... Applying lipstick... My lips...

"I... I don't know" I murmured. It felt like I wanted to wear the lipstick, but I didn't! I don't want sleek red lips, a voice inside me said, I am a man! I don't want smooth creamy red lipstick to slide over my wet lips...

I was falling, down, down into a warm place, when I realised something was wrong. I was thinking about wearing the lipstick. I opened my eyes, suddenly alert. We had arrived at our stop. I was unsure what was going on, and glanced quickly around.

Claire looked surprised. She put the lipstick down, and without warning, leant forwards over the table and kissed me.

It was like a drug. The vision of her, the warm feeling, the hypnotic scent, and then the taste of her lipstick on my lips... I was lost. I could feel myself melting inside, the pressure in my groin building. Lipstick...On my lips...

No! A part of me was telling me, that's not it, that's not what you want! But another part of me was already surrendering. Surrendering to Claire, and to the smooth feel of her kiss.

As she pulled away, and looked into my eyes, she smiled.

"Now you know." she said. A battle was raging inside me, and she must have seen it in my eyes. My heart was raging and I felt like I wanted to explode. I wanted her, to take her and ravage her, but I couldn't. And I wanted her to do that to me again - to kiss me with her lipstick.

"Come here," she said, but I couldn't move. She picked up her things and grabbed my arm. I could barely get up in time as she whisked me off the train and onto the dark of the platform outside.



_______________________________

The sound of the train faded as the other disembarking passengers walked away, and she pulled me close.

"Claire?" I asked, but she held up a finger to silence me. Slowly she lifted the mesmerising lipstick to my lips. Don't let her do this, the voice inside me was saying. You're a man! Don't let her take you this way!

Take me? I wondered, as she moved her face closer.

The second the lipstick touched my lips, I felt it working. The voice became quiet. It felt good. I held on to Claire as she smoothed the balmy red magic over my now hungry lips. My eyes rolled and my head felt light. There was nothing I wanted more than to let Claire apply red lipstick to me all day and all night, and for her to do anything else she wanted.

I pulled her closer and dropped to my knees in front of her, holding my face up. "Please..." I begged. A strange warm feeling was spreading inside me, from my lips, back into my mind. As my hands slid down Claire's back to her legs and touched her black tights, I gasped.

She stepped back.

"Yes," she said. "You like that, don't you. You always did. You like my legs and my high heels."

"Yes!" I gasped, still on my knees. The warm tingling feeling filled my mind. I felt red and fuzzy, and as though my own mind was slipping pleasantly away.

"And you like to wear this lipstick, don't you." She continued, stepping forwards and stroking my hair. "You feel like a woman when you wear my lipstick, don't you."

"Yes!" I cried, reaching out for her again. It felt oddly right, to agree with her. I knew I had never wanted to feel like a woman or to wear lipstick before, but my lips and my new mind now felt so warm and compelling, and the feeling was spreading down, tingling at my throat and my chest. My nipples felt erect and hot. I could feel that my control of myself was slipping away. I wanted to let it go, to do what Claire wanted! To wear that lipstick...

"You want to wear a lacy black basque. You want it to support the weight of your own breasts."

"Yes! Yes! Yes, please!" I was feeling amazing. My body from my lips to my midriff, and spreading downwards, felt as though it was blazing with quiet power, and what Claire was saying filled me with longing. My own will and my own control of my body was being replaced by the strong, slowly spreading red feeling. The thought of a basque on my body, tight, black and constrictive, with Claire running her fingers down my sides and up to my own breasts delighted me beyond my wildest fantasies.

"And you will feel like a woman when you shave your legs and wear black stockings and high heels tonight. You want that more than anything else, don't you."

"Oh, yes!" My legs seemed to shine in my mind as the deep smooth red feeling spread further down to my knees and my ankles. I could see it already, my feet in stilettos with straps fastening them tight, and my smoothly shaven ankles in black and silky stockings that I would be fastening carefully to the basque's suspenders.

Knees pressed together, my diaphanous black stockings rubbing evocatively, I would bend over to pick up my skirt, and my breasts would hang in my basque, full and soft and round, pulling with new weight on my thin shoulder straps.

I knew these were not my own desires, but there was nothing I could do. I wanted them too badly. The feeling filled me now, from my toes to my lips. I felt red. I felt controlled. I felt like a woman.

"Come with me," ordered Claire, turning on her heel and walking away. I picked myself up and stumbled after her, my eyes glued to her thin black high heels as she clacked ahead of me.

She opened the door and stood aside for me to pass in. Just inside and to the left, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My lips were bright glossy red, pouting and deep. I paused and looked. My heart beat stronger, and the feeling grew.

Claire entered behind me, her eyes smouldering. As she quietly closed the door, I knew my life had changed for ever.



THE END


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Tomorrow (Saturday) by mid-day, I will begin my annual three days en femme, while the wife is away on business. I began preparing for this in late January and have bought a lot of new clothes to show off in this period: three new dresses, two new skirts, a new top, two new pairs of shoes, and a new evening gown.

Even when not fully en femme, I will have on at least one feminine item, so I am always aware of my feminine side. Weather permitting (you all know what the last four or five weeks have been like in the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic, right?), I will go on a "shopping adventure" in partial femme attire one of the days--it's looking like Sunday, right now--so there might be another few new items to show off.

That means a week or more of new photos to post here.

After that, I'll have some more artwork...and, having now really gotten all the stories from my old site posted here, I'm seriously considering some new writing. It'll probably be really short stuff to start with (a couple thousand words at most), but we'll see how it goes.

(...and brownie points to anyone who tells me what movie title I'm referencing in this title.)

I've been in at least partial feminine attire since about 11:30 this morning, when I got home from getting the wife on her train. As noted yesterday, I prepared for this annual femme-fest with a lot of shopping a few weeks ago...so here's the first of the new outfits:


Manufacturer/store: Attention (Kmart)
Date: February 2015

The shoes are Fioni fuchsia pink pumps, from Payless in January 2009; other accessories are black-and-white jewelry and natural hose.



This is a nice portrait, I think:


More pics on Flickr; another outfit this evening; and please participate in the survey to the right.

I've always wanted a true formal gown--even though I really have no where to wear one. When I saw this one in the store (for under $10!), I couldn't resist it.


Manufacturer/store: R&M Richards (Ross)
Date: February 2015

The shoes are Moda Spana pewter spike heel pumps, a thrift shop find in November 2012; other accessories are a floral headband, silver jewelry and natural hose.



Another really nice portrait...the eyes especially look great.


More pics on Flickr; two more outfits...and a shopping trip in semi-femme attire tomorrow; and please participate in the survey to the right.

The day started with me in my white nightgown, checking up with my usual online places. Then I unfortunately had to get into (mostly) male attire, in order to shovel out the driveway and sidewalk. (The femme pieces were camisole and panties.) Then I went to pick up some breakfast. That done, I got into full femme mode, in this very sexy stretchy red dress:


Manufacturer/store: Suzy Shier (Annie Sez)
Date: February 2015

This turned out to far more body-conscious than I thought it would be...but gee it looks great, doesn't it? Accessories are red fedora, blue jewelry, black belt, natural hose...and new shoes discussed below.



Here are the shoes--D'Orsay pumps are very sexy, aren't they?


Manufacturer/store: Brash (Payless)
Date: February 2015

And here's a neat portrait with the hat:


More pics on Flickr; next on the agenda is a shopping trip in semi-femme attire (I promise a pic of that); and please participate in the survey to the right.

Here's what I wore for my semi-en femme shopping trip today:



You can't see--because I blurred my face--that I am also wearing pink lipgloss. The outfit consists of my blue Rider blouse, pinstripe slacks, and black oxford pumps (the most masculine of Dani's shoes).

The trip was quite successful, resulting in another new dress and a new skirt, both of which you will see before this weekend is over.

A very office girl outfit is next in line; and please participate in the survey to the right.

As promised, a very office-appropriate ensemble, featuring a new skirt and new shoes.



Here are the details on the new skirt:

Manufacturer/store: UK2LA (Annie Sez)
Date: February 2015

The blouse is from Kmart's Basic Editions line, bought in November 2014; details on the shoes below; other accessories are the blue-and-black cloche, scarf, silver jewelry, and natural hose.



And now, the shoes:


Manufacturer/store: Christian Siriano "Manic" blue pumps (Payless)
Date: February 2015

And a happy, smiling portrait:


More pics on Flickr; one more outfit from Sunday--with a skirt bought just today; and please participate in the survey to the right.

As I post this, it is Monday noon, about 36 hours into my time en femme. This is the third outfit I wore on Sunday, which includes a new skirt bought just a few hours earlier.



Here are the details on the skirt:

Manufacturer/store: Appraisal Woman (K&G)
Date: February 2015

The crochet top is from JCPenney's St. John's Bay line, bought in August 2012; the shoes are Fioni "Kambridge" plaid platform pumps, from Payless in November 2014; other accessories are a white bow, crystal jewelry, pink belt, and natural hose. I think, perhaps, I should have worn a cami under the top--the corset is more visible than I'd like.



Here's a portrait:


More pics on Flickr; there will be three outfits on Monday, all brand new; and please participate in the survey to the right.

The second item bought on Sunday's shopping trip in semi-femme attire. I was hoping to find something really bright and colorful...and I succeeded!


Manufacturer/store: Sharamango (K&G)
Date: February 2015

The shoes are Dexter "Lynx" mary-janes, from Payless in February 2010. Other accessories are a floral headband, gold jewelry, and natural hose.



And a portrait:


More pics on Flickr; still two all-new outfits to come; and please participate in the survey to the right.

The three days en femme are now over in real time. They ended this morning when I took off my nightgown and dressed in all male attire for the first time since noon on Saturday. I might have been able to stretch it until noon today...but there's a lot to get done before the wife returns this evening.

I look at this outfit and I'm very pleased with it. Think of it as casual Friday for the office.


T-shirt:

Manufacturer/store: Basic Editions (Kmart)
Date: February 2015

Denim skirt:

Manufacturer/store: Jaclyn Smith (Kmart)
Date: February 2015

The shoes are Lela Rose "Galilea" navy/brown peep-toes, from Payless in May 2011. Other accessories are a striped bow, gold jewelry, white belt, and natural hose.



The portraits this weekend have all been good. haven't they?


More pics on Flickr; one last outfit to go; and please participate in the survey to the right.

(OK--nobody's said anything. The titles of this series of posts is a play on the movie Three Days of the Condor...)

Of all the new clothes I bought in prep for this weekend adventure, this is the only one I'm not entirely happy with. I knew it would be small and tight...but I can't quite figure out why it makes me look so chunky and shapeless. I may have to try it again some time with a belt added for waist definition.

At any rate, here's a very schoolgirl look:


Manufacturer/store: Polly & Esther (Annie Sez)
Date: February 2015

The shoes are Mossimo "Velda" red baby-doll oxford pumps, from Target in August 2008. Other accessories are a polka-dot bow, chunky and silver jewelry, and knee socks.



I tried something with the makeup and editing this time; in keeping with the schoolgirl theme, I wanted a manga look.


More pics on Flickr; artwork for the next week or so; and please participate in the survey to the right.