I had just returned from a friend’s house and was greeted by my Mom at the door. I immediately went into self-preservation mode as the look on her face meant she was in no mood to be manipulated by her good for nothing son. I made good grades in school, didn’t get into any trouble and seemed to be well liked by some of my classmates, but apparently still not good enough for Mom by the expression on her face.
The getting into trouble part will never happen, since Mom is the head of the detective division of the state police force. I imagine a call about me doing something wrong would result in grounding for life, if I could escape with something so menial. I am eighteen, well, will be in a few days, and I can remember being spanked just a couple of months ago. I had promised a neighbor to help her out, and got involved with my buddies and forgot completely about it.
Believe me I will not forget something like that again, it was a week before I could sit comfortably again. The bad part was that I had to bend over her lap voluntarily, then lay there as she lowered my jeans and shorts, leaving my ass naked and vulnerable. When she finished it was red, and hot, her hand rubbing over the red marks making me aware of them that much more.
Anyway Mom had that look again, when she pointed to my hair I knew it would be bad. She allows me to have long hair, but insists on me taking care of it, it is to be brushed regularly and kept off my face, usually in a ponytail or bun. Simple enough, even I should be able to handle those few rules. I prefer the ponytail though Mom when she gets after me likes to do it in a bun, then attach a girly ribbon around it to make it easily noticed. We have had a discussion about my hair quite often. I, of course, promise to take care of it, then quickly forget about doing anything besides putting it into a ponytail.
She has me turn around, releases my ponytail and starts brushing my hair. The knots are everywhere and I wince as she pulls them out with the brush. She asks me if I remember the original request for me to be allowed to grow my hair long. I nod, then try to remember exactly what was said. Mom reaches over to the table and hits play on a tape recorder. Oh Gawd! She had recorded my begging to let me have longer hair. I listen as the recording plays and then swallow hard as she lists her requirements to let me do it. Repeated failure to do as she has requested, will be handled by my Mother, with no recourse left on my part.
She informed me that this is the twentieth failure on my part to do as she has requested. She finished brushing my hair and hands me a piece of paper with a salon’s name and an appointment time written on it. “You will go there and they will correct your deficiencies. Since you cannot be trusted to do this yourself you have twice weekly appointments, that way I can be assured that your hair will always be nice and properly coiffed. Yes I said coiffed, since it is obvious that to continue having your hair styled in a masculine way will not work anymore. So you have essentially joined the female gender. Of course, you can still wear male clothes if you like, but with a curly up do and makeup, plus pierced ears it might be easier on you if you dress accordingly.”
“This now includes school, so you will have to explain to your friends your situation. The salon is within walking distance, so I suggest you get going to be sure you’re on time for your appointment.” I looked at her with that sorrowful look, hoping for some slack, but none was to be had.
To remove temptation hand me your car keys, I will keep them safe until you get settled in your new persona. Now be off, I am anxious to see how my new daughter turns out so don’t dawdle. I got a kiss on the forehead, her usual, and a huge smile. She had turned my desire to have long hair against me, now I am doomed in more than one way. I did do it to myself, but surely she could have thought of something different to make her point without turning me into her daughter.
On the fairly long walk to the salon, I tried to think of all the things they could do to my hair to make me even more miserable. Then I suddenly remembered that I had to walk home after the appointment, probably looking quite female for all to see. I knew failure to use the appointment was a death sentence, not physically dead, but probably wishing I was after she gets through with her retribution for my willful disobedience. As I walked up to the salon door, I looked through the window, way too many fantastic looking females the only thing I could see. I told the receptionist that I was here for my appointment and was soon being led to a private room at the side of the salon.
My stylist’s name was Jennifer, way too enthused and bubbly for me. She had me sign some papers, I didn’t bother reading them, I am sure Mom has arranged all of this right down to the nth detail. My task is just to obey and suffer the end results. She removed my shirt and placed a cape over my upper body. The chair I was in was leaned back and my hair was shampooed and conditioned. She seemed to use many different products, checking my hair after each treatment. Finally she was satisfied and ran a comb through my hair to make sure she had got all the tangles removed.
Then she pushed a cart next to me, swatches of longer hair in the same color as mine was laid across the top of the cart. Another stylist joined her and two hours later they had glued in hundreds of twenty-four inch extensions to my longish locks. The extensions were at least twelve inches longer than my own hair, plus the added mass made my hair look fuller. After adding all the swatches of hair, then she started cutting my hair giving me a layered look. Just adding the length and the cut made me look so feminine, even without makeup I looked like a young coed. The image in the mirror ahead of me was so disturbing, I tried not to look preferring to focus my eyes on my lap, but every once in a while I would look up and let out another huge sigh.
Next my hair was wound on curlers, apparently I will be a high maintenance female, same as Mom. She has twice weekly salon appointments too, to keep her style fresh and beautiful. She seems to enjoy her salon time, I am not so sure that I will be able to say the same thing about my time at the salon. In a way I was fascinated at my changing looks, my male look quickly fading away as the longer hair, the new cut and now the soon to be curls were changing the way people would look at me.
The fascination was quickly forgotten, as I now faced life as a female. I wondered how my friends would react, I am sure I will be kidded a lot, too good of an opportunity to pass by. Then school as a female, a new and very frightening nightmare that will have to be faced and soon. If only I had listened to Mom and taken care of my hair, this would not be happening to me now. I did briefly think that if I had just refused to go to the salon I might have fared better, but then my sore red butt came to mind, realizing that any punishment for not doing as she asks would probably be worse than a spanking.
The makeup was not extreme, it heightened my female features, but was not overdone or extremely obvious. I looked like a young female, the lipstick was a light pink and the mascara was visible but not caked on. She had used eyeliner to accent my eyes and some blush on my cheeks. As Jennifer was telling me about everything I found out that the cream she used on my face before the makeup would stop any further hair growth with one more application. I did not see myself ever having a beard, but now I was one step closer to that eventuality.
Two pops and my ears were pierced, a pair of dangle earrings were put in the holes. Since the holes were lasered in, I would not need to worry about them getting infected or closing up later. The curlers were removed and I let out a huge sigh, after brushing the style lightly there was no doubt about the gender of the person under the curls. The style was current, a lot of the females in school wearing a similar style. Lots of curls laying on my shoulders, with long curly bangs that were swept to one side of my face.
My shirt was returned to me and I signed for the services that had been rendered. On my way out I wandered through the clothing section looking at the feminine styles that I might soon be wearing. Every mirror I passed confirmed my new feminine appearance, the male clothes I was presently wearing looking so out of place now.
I started the long walk home, the distance now seemed to be miles, since I was now quite obvious, whereas before I was just a male out for a stroll. I was super conscious of everyone looking at me, fearing that at any minute I would be singled out as a weirdo or worse since my head was so female and my body was so male. I almost made it home. I had made it seven blocks with only another three blocks to go before my world came crashing down around me.
As I was walking down the street, I head a girlish squeal and Tiffany a friend from high school came running out to me. I was hugged and led back to her house, although I was doing everything I could to get loose and make it to the safety of my own home. When she got me inside her house, I gave up. She obviously was just as strong as me, since she got me through her front door in one jerk. She took the time to appraise my looks, touching my hair and running her fingers through my new longer locks. Finally with her appraisal completed she wanted to know all the juicy particulars.
I was again dragged where she wanted me to be, this time her room the destination. With a brief stop at her kitchen for some pop and an introduction to her Mom. I got some funny looks from her Mom, I am sure a phone call to my Mom was imminent. Tiffany’s Mom and my Mom were friendly serving on the PTA when we were younger.
She pushed me down on her bed, then stared at me waiting for me to dish out all the juicy tidbits. It took me about thirty minutes to tell her what happened and Mom’s way to handle my failure to do as I had agreed. I received several giggles, but she listened carefully and did not miss a single word I said. When I got to the part about attending school this way, I was almost squeezed to death. I presume that is something she desired, but for what reason I haven’t the slightest idea.
Tiffany’s Mom appeared at the door, telling me that I needed to get home, someone impatiently waiting to be shown my finished look, and don’t dawdle. She did ask Tiffany if she would like to accompany me to my house. Well, that was decided in a heartbeat and soon I was being led down the stairs and out her front door. I looked around once we got outside to see who else might be lurking around, I definitely didn’t need any more people to see me this way. Once we got to my house Mom was waiting for me on the front porch, hugs and pushing me back so she could get a better look, the way things went for quite some time.
She greeted Tiffany with hugs and thanked her for seeing that her daughter made it safely home. Ever since the salon I doubted my face was any color other than a bright red. I was embarrassed, a little humiliated and totally lost in this female world. I kind of liked how I looked now, but of course that information could never be shared with Mom. Mom had made some sandwiches and tea, so the three of us set down to consume a little nourishment. I was constantly told to slow down, take smaller bites and to sit properly in the chair. I was made to help clean up, although Tiffany did assist me so it would not take as long. I was told that helping in the kitchen was a new chore for me, so get used to it and plan on doing it at every meal.
Finally Tiffany and I made our escape to my room. Once I opened the door I knew that things were going to get worse, my room was now feminine and several new pieces of furniture had been added, mainly a vanity and an additional dresser. I ran to the closet and swung open the door. I collapsed on the floor, crying and barely able to breathe. All of my male clothes were gone, in fact, the closet was empty except for one lone dress.
Tiffany comforted me for a while, then took the time to examine the dress closer, even holding it up against me. She looked through the dresser finding a few pieces of feminine underwear and laid them on the bed. I was handed a pair of panties and told to undress and slide them up my legs. I held them with just two fingertips, fearful of what they would do to me if I put them on. Of course, Tiffany was giggling away, at my reaction to the panties, suggesting that if I tried them on, I would then know what it was like in get into a girl’s panties, a fond wish of most males. I did not think her comment was very funny.
She helped me to take off my shirt and pants then pushed me to the bathroom. Her hand through the door wanted my boxers, once she had them she closed the door and waited on my bed. I stood there, looking in the mirror, my female image still there and just as feminine as when I left the salon. After Tiffany cleared her throat for the umpteenth time I slipped on the panties and stepped out of the bathroom. I imagine I was bright red all over, her seeing me in just the panties was too much. I was lucky, junior was way too embarrassed to stick his head out, he stayed shriveled up, nestled in the crotch of the panties.
She hugged me closely, and tightly until I quit shaking. Then she slipped the dress over my head and adjusted it on my body. She did up the back zipper and I was now dressed as a female from head to toe, except for shoes. She turned me to face my new mirror on the back of my closet door, the image of a cute female reflecting back from the mirror.
Of course, Mom took that moment to enter my bedroom, then ran to me and literally squeezed the daylights out of me. She asked Tiffany to go to dinner with us, she had already cleared it with her Mom. Of course, Tiffany accepted but I am not sure why. Did she like me this way, or was she feeling sorry for me and wanting to help me get through this. Either way I could use all the support I could find to somehow deal with this new life imposed on me.
I was nervous all through dinner, a steakhouse at the edge of town where we ended up at. Several of Tiffany’s friends came over to our table to talk, although none of them recognized the feminine me. I was sweating bullets when one would appear, hoping that I would be ignored. When they rejoined their family I let out a huge sigh, my heart returning to a somewhat normal beat.
I was all smiles as we returned home, but the smile quickly disappeared as several of my male friends were waiting for me on the front porch. Mom did smirk, somehow I think she had something to do with this sudden appearance of my friends. The guys were polite asking Tiffany to introduce me to them. I bit the bullet and told them it was me Brooke, if they had something to say do it. Greg the leader of the group asked if I might be available for the spring dance, the other two breaking out in laughter. Greg kept his composure asking if I might attend the dance with him. To make his point he gingerly took my hand and looked me square in the eyes and mouthed please.
The other guys quit their laughing, stepping back a little waiting for my response. Tiffany though answered for me that I would be delighted, suggesting maybe a movie soon to get to know each other a little better before the dance. Greg agreed, telling me that he would pick me up this Friday at seven, while I was staring at Tiffany and trying to get my hand loose from Greg’s. I got a kiss on the cheek, a surprise to everyone standing there watching the goings on, then he left taking the other two guys with him. I just stared at the departing figures my one hand rubbing my cheek where he kissed me.
I ran into the house, and up to my room, a mixture of fear and tears trying to make their appearance. I landed on my bed, as everything that had just happened seemed to finally reach my brain. I pounded my fist on the bed, the last time it being caught by Tiffany as she set down next to me. She held that hand, squeezing it a few times to remind me that she was there. I scooted closer to her, just wanting somebody closer to me to made me feel better. It was quite a while before I was able to vocalize any thoughts, the first few words delivered with a strained voice and almost a stutter. I was so out of my element, all of this something I never expected to experience.
Mom had appeared briefly but Tiffany assured her that I was getting better, and that she would see that I made it down to the kitchen to talk shortly. A few minutes later Tiffany made me look at her, then proceeded to fix my makeup, then ran her fingers through my hair. I was dragged downstairs, not wanting to talk about any of this, but a pushy female friend thought differently. I was soon at the kitchen table, Mom furnishing some drinks and a few cookies. I grabbed a cookie, my male comfort food, then another before Tiffany stopped my grabbing of cookies. She shook her head at me, so I put the last one back, a sorrowful look on my face. Mom and Tiff broke out in laughter at my look, but the cookie plate was removed out of my reach soon thereafter eliminating the temptation.
Mom did confess to asking the boys to come by, but she did not expect Greg’s reaction to me. Tiffany just smiled, you have the attention of one of the hottest boys at school, so get your act together, if nothing else he will keep anybody else from hassling you. Try a date with him, you might enjoy yourself, he is definitely infatuated with you, his eyes never leaving your face all the time he was here.
I looked over to Mom, I am sure she didn’t intend for me to embrace the female life, much less date a male. She smiled, it won’t kill you for one date, maybe you will learn something about being a female. After the date we will talk and see what you think. Now we have some shopping to do, you have nothing to wear for your first date. They both stood up and I was soon headed to the car, a shopping trip in my immediate future.
I turned out to be a marathon shopping trip. Back to the salon first to explore everything they had, a lot of the things I noticed when leaving after having my hair done ended up in the pile of clothes that were for me. Then Mom had the audacity of making me pay for them out of my savings. You were the one that got yourself in this pickle, so all of the expenses come out of your money. It might be better that you get a job as a female, that way at least you can pay for your twice weekly salon appointments. I just stared at her, she can’t do this to me, can she.
Tiffany and Mom found the perfect dress for me, I nodded my head in agreement but was far from sure it would be my choice of something to wear. It was figure hugging with a tight skirt only coming to mid thigh. I several times suggested a nice pair of pants and a sweater, much more what I had in mind if I ended up going on this date. Of course I was ignored, the two of them already looking ahead to a prom dress, several choices already catching their attention. The appropriate heels, were purchased since tennis shoes and the dress would not be a very good match.
Another thought then entered my befuddled mind, I now realized I had indeed caused the trouble myself, so now dressing as a female, going to school as a female and soon working as a female to pay for my clothing, makeup, and salon appointments made the punishment complete. If only I had taken care of my hair, a thought that would haunt me for months. At least, I hoped it will be only for a month or two.
Thanks to Tiffany, school was not really a problem. She had texted everybody about my new appearance and hinted that Greg was now interested in me. That seemed to keep the jokes and teasing very minimal. After my first day at school I went to the grocery store with Mom since my car was still being impounded until I adapted to my new gender. While there I saw a help wanted sign for a cashier, I filled out some forms and was interviewed. The lady customer service manager hired me and I now had a job to pay for my female clothes and salon appointments. Five days a week after school for four hours, filling in during their early evening rush after work.
On the way home I was really proud of myself, managing to handle what the fallout of me not living up to the agreement had caused. Tiffany and I became BFF’s, a couple of weeks later she also got a job at the grocery store, now we go to work together.
The date with Greg was alright, but I don’t think I will be looking for a male to make my female life complete. I never realized how many hands a male has, spending most of my time fending off advances. I did go to the dance with him, but I had a little talk with him beforehand informing him of my limits, if he wanted me to be a proper date for him. I think he got the idea, since his hands only wandered once during the evening at the dance. I did kiss him after the dance, a nice kiss but not passion filled.
I never did revert back to the masculine look completely, I do wear pants most of the time, but my closet has several dresses for special occasions. I do wear female lingerie all of the time, once converted to the silkiness, I am never going back to the rough and scratchy boxers and T-shirts. As far as school is concerned I am listed as a female student, but have a separate dressing room for P.E. I still do attract a lot of male attention, as does my girlfriend Tiffany. We show no romantic interest in each other at school, but often spend the nights in one or the other of our beds.
As Tiffany was re-shaping my life she managed to talk me into another salon appointment for shaping my body. I regularly use the salon now for my hair, nails and makeup but never had used their body modifying treatments. After eight hours of my body being sucked on and things hidden under a false vagina I was identical to Tiffany as far as a female figure was concerned. It pleased Tiffany immensely, her playing with her new play toys late into the night. I think our Moms approved of the changes, since my male apparatus was now unavailable for any thing sexual. We were trusted before this, but hid away is much better.
I guess the changes were called for, I had indeed let my appearance suffer especially my hair. The resulting changes seemed to have improved my take on life. I am now a straight A student, and currently senior class president. Tiffany and I even volunteer at the local senior citizen home on Sunday, keeping them company and helping them do little things together.
I knew I would never ignore my appearance again, I know Mom well, she probably has contingency plans in place for when and if I goof up again. She need not worry, I have embraced the female life completely, my appearance now just as important to me as it is to her. It all started when I didn’t live up to the agreement, causing a profound change in my persona.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker