The town was a byproduct of a Hollywood movie shoot fifteen years ago. The producers had actually built an entire western town to shoot the movie at. Why they didn’t use a sound stage in Hollywood that was already existing no one has ever been able to figure out.
Anyway about fifty of us who lived in the area saw a possibility to make some money off of it. We approached the owner of the land and bought the whole town along with about six hundred acres that surrounded it. It took us several months to repair the damage caused by Mother Nature and nobody living in the town. We hired an advertising company to formulate us an ad campaign to bring tourists to the area. Luckily we were not too far from an existing tourist attraction, so all we had to do was make the connection that while in the area they could stop and visit us too. Justine, the gal that put all of this together including forming the original group was quite smart, planned well and was able to make some good deals as all of this started coming together.
We financed the purchase and the operating budget by taking out loans on our properties. The majority of us had paid off our mortgages earlier in life, so our properties were free and clear. Most of our properties fronted the town and acreage, so we were neighbors in a way. Some of us had jobs, but the majority of the group had investments or businesses that supplied us monthly income. Justine, the head of our group divided us all down into groups based on our interests and experience to develop the town into our little dream, hopefully a money making dream.
There were groups to handle setting up the different stores and entertainment venues in the town. Others to do the props and costumes for the entertainers. It was decided early on that we would try and provide all we needed from within the group, keeping any outsiders to a minimum. All in all there were about three hundred of us, counting the spouses, and the older children. After checking out all the skills of the group it looked like we could handle the staffing with very little outside influence. It was a lot of work to put it all together, but our initial feelers to some travel agencies and tourist groups all came back very positive, reinforcing our original decision to buy the town.
Several general stores were spotted through the town, our plan for them to sell vintage clothing, souvenirs and snack food that could be eaten in the town while they were visiting. Two saloons that would provide entertainment similar to what was offered in the old west. Dancing girls and usually a female singer were the staples back then, so that is what we were aiming for.
The hotel that was in the middle of the town, and had been used by the production company for their actresses and actors would be our big money maker. Although the outside was used for background scenes in the movie, the inside was plush and elegant. It had forty rooms, so we hoped it would more than pay its way as an income source.
Originally we had planned on an admission charge to visit the town, but the logistics of parking, some way of collecting the fee and control access to the town all added up to be a bad idea. If we offered something in each of the businesses that would raise some revenue, probably a much better idea. The general stores had items to sell, the hotel rooms to rent and several restaurants for evening dining. The saloons had entertainment, but charging to get in seemed counterproductive. So some snack like foods, and drinks seemed a much better way to increase the revenue. We decided on a wide array of different drinks, wine being the only alcoholic beverage and that not to be offered until after ten o’clock at night. We did not want to risk our family oriented destination advertising. Both places were quite large, we figured they could seat two hundred plus patrons for a show. Three or four shows a day and we might be able to take in some serious money.
One of the group handling setting up the saloons had visited Las Vegas to get some ideas of what snacks and drinks we could offer. Since during the day we wanted to attract families there would be no alcohol served at either place till late evening. The group did settle on different teas and coffees deciding on fifty different offerings. Of course soda pop was included for the younger children, just some exotic names instead of the old stand bys. All served in their original bottles chilled in galvanized tubs packed with ice.
In between the shows we planned some gunfights starting in the saloons and being carried out onto the streets. The group handing that were already practicing their craft, a few fistfights added to make it all seem a little more real.
We found an old stagecoach, rebuilt it and offered a thirty minute ride around the town and surrounding desert area. The area was quite picturesque, the production company had filmed a lot of their background scenes in the area. The stagecoach turned out to be one of the best ideas, it only needed to be surface cleaned and some upholstery to the interior seats. One of our group was into horses, found us a team of six horses and trained several of the group to handle the team. We managed to convince a couple of the travel agency people to come to the town, offered them a ride on the stagecoach and let them tour the town. We didn’t have the restaurants going yet or the entertainment in the saloons, but they loved the overall idea.
Now we come to our participation in this crazy idea. My wife in her earlier years had been an entertainer on a cruise ship, so she became our entertainment coordinator. She found several of the group to be the saloon girls, actually the daughters of some of our group. No singers though, especially someone that could belt out the songs. We even had a few singers come in that were not part of the group, to audition for the roles. A couple were okay, but nothing outstanding. It was getting down to the wire, the date we had planned to be our opening fast approaching.
The costume people had done fantastic, the designs were catchy and very authentic. For the singer they were just waiting for person to be selected, so that the costume could be altered to fit properly. The dresses for the saloon girls and the singer were just like the old western movies, low cut, fitted bodices and huge skirts with lots of petticoats. Enough to tantalize any male without endangering our family oriented theme.
Often in the late evenings after a long day at sprucing up the town several of us would gather in one the saloons to drink a little and have a little fun. The drinks were mostly wine, since surprisingly none of the group drank hard alcohol. I had a few too many, which sometimes happened to me. We were singing along to some music from a stereo, it was featuring a few songs from the stage play Annie Get Your Gun. I was lost in the moment never hearing my fellow singers stop singing, now I was the only one singing along, belting out the words to Anything You Can Do. I did however became aware when the music stopped and I was the only one still singing. My wife approached, a huge smirk on her face and led me away, a few giggles escaping as I was taken away. I instantly regretted my actions, now that Greta is involved, I doubt I will escape unscathed.
Surprisingly she took me home, made some coffee and poured me several cups. I sobered up some as the evening wore on, then I was led to our living room where we had a state of the art sound system. She had me stand in the middle of the room and handed me the words to the same song I had sang to earlier this evening. Stepping to the stereo she qued the music to start, and looked at me expectantly. I missed the first que, so she restarted the music. I did manage to start singing at the proper time but my voice was strained and widely fluctuating. She stopped the music and came over pulling me to her and hugging the daylights out of me. That and a couple of sensual kisses and I was suddenly her little saloon gurl. She repeated the action several times, each time I melted a little more, then when she restarted the music for the third time I was lost in the role. According to her I was fine, but needed to develop a little more volume.
She went through all of the songs I would be singing, handing me the sheet music as we went along. I did not find out until later that she was recording all of my ministrations. When I sang my voice was higher, never could bring it down to my speaking voice. Apparently it will be good enough for the show, she had a couple of ideas for later, but first I had to memorize all the lyrics and practice the songs.
I never did realize up to the moment of my first costume fitting that I would be singing as a female. That is how the show was set-up, but my less than bright mind never put two and two together. I was so intent on learning the songs that I overlooked the difficult part. I was fitted for my costumes, never moving or saying a word. I was in fact staring at a spot on the wall across from where I was standing. I was one to believe that if you ignored something long enough it would go away. I did ignore all that was happening, but absolutely nothing went away, each costume fitted to my body. After the alterations were made and I tried them on again the dress was baggy in areas, then my mind managed to engage, my breasts and hips would make if fit properly once added to my body.
We were a couple of weeks from our grand opening, Greta had everybody scheduled for a full dress rehearsal of the saloon show. It was to be the same people, in both saloon shows, just different costumes and different songs. The saloon girls were different, each saloon having a full complement of girls to serve the drinks and snacks. The shows were staggered, allowing time for costume changes and a rest period in between. The shows during the day and early evening were tame, popular songs and family orientated. The late evening shows were geared to couples and a little more provocative. The costumes in particular, a lot more skin showing in my evening costumes that is for sure.
Early on we found out we didn’t really have anybody for makeup and hair styling. All of the females could do their own makeup but to do all of the saloon entertainers and workers was over their head. Greta spent a couple of days in the nearest larger town looking for a solution. At the Turnabout Gurl Salon she talked with the manager and later the CEO of the company making arrangements for someone to come to our town each day and perform the needed services. That way their stylists could each get some time to enjoy the Wild West town and also get paid for doing it. I still had to lose the male figure, since my role was as a female saloon singer.
That was arranged for at their salon, two days to get rid of any masculinity and develop my feminine image. Removal of all my body hair was first, followed by work on my fingernails. Extensions were added and way too many coats of polish added, the end result most feminine and obviously visible to everyone. Extensions were added to my shoulder length hair, now cascading nearly to my waist. Curled and piled on top of my head, ribbons to match my dresses added to make the style more eye catching. Of course pierced ears, usually large hoops in a gold finish with small diamonds adorning the bottom curve of the hoops.
Then we have the addition of breasts, sucked from my body and way too large in my opinion. I was informed the size was necessary to make my dresses look right. Yeah tell me another one. I was so wrapped in what they were doing to junior, that I ended up with the large breasts, along with a cute slit, just like the one Greta had on her body. A wicked corset came next, forcing flab from my waist to my hips and chest. The I found out the corset had a panel that covered the laces, keeping me from getting out of the corset. For the first four weeks I was in the corset 24/7 so that my middle section would form and retain a feminine shape. I began to look forward to my daily bath, the only time I received a few moments respite from the corset. High heels were mandatory, since they helped shape my calves, making them look sexy.
It was a whirlwind of activity those two days, I don’t remember a lot, but my image as I left at the end of the second day was not anyways masculine. When Greta greeted me as I was coming into our house she gasped and promptly led me away. I never did get dinner that night, I knew I needed to lose a few pounds, but starvation was not my preferred means of losing the poundage. Of course, the exercise I received that night would probably help with the weight loss. I am told you can burn a lot of calories moaning and groaning.
I did sleep well that night, once the sexual activities ceased since I was way past the pooped stage. Maybe not from physical activity, but from stress, stress of losing all of my masculinity, now I was as pretty as Greta, that in her own words. I do remember some of the kisses, and my lack of getting an adequate amount of air into my lungs. Most of the night I felt like I had run a marathon, and finished dead last.
What I do remember from last night was wonderful, still not sure if it is reality or just part of a dream. I did have a smile on my face the next morning until I got up and looked in the mirror. I was a mess, hair disheveled and makeup smeared all over my face and neck. I am not sure if the makeup was Greta’s or mine but I just considered the mess an occupational handicap of my new career.
Today was going to be another salon day, any remaining masculinity to be done away with. I was delivered to the salon by Greta, thus having no way to escape my feminizing treatments. They indeed did away with it, when Greta picked me up, all that was left was Kitty, the new saloon singer. Unbeknownst to me they had scheduled a full dress rehearsal that Saturday night for the press and selected members of some of the travel agencies. When Greta pulled in behind the saloon I had a lot of bad feelings rise to the surface. I kept quiet, I knew this meant a lot to the others, we had all stuck our neck out hoping for it be the right move. I was helped into my late night costume, perfumed and led to the saloon stage. The rest of my body already prepared for the show at the beauty salon.
I was a bundle of nerves, dressing as a female one thing, but performing some sexy songs as one in front of a lot of people quite different. Greta approached, hugged me and made lip contact. It was such a sensuous kiss, lasting forever. I doubt I could tell you my name afterward, my mind suddenly all gooey. I was led out onto the stage and introduced as Kitty La Chatte. I had no idea where that name came from, but since everyone seemed to be aware of it I presume it was planned in advance. I stepped up to my spot on the stage as the music started. Luckily I did remember the lyrics to the songs as I went through the evening show for my audience.
Quite often when I sing I close my eyes, the words of the song just emerging from my lips. I try to feel the emotion of the song, my voice trying to express that feeling as I sing. Also a way for me to cope with being in front of a crowd. According to Greta, me feeling the emotion of the song is what makes me a perfect choice for their saloon singer.
After my last song there was quiet, then thunderous applause. Several people came on stage wanting to know a little about me and get some pictures for their articles. Greta and Justine ended up saving me by coming and talking to them. My male gender was left out of any conversations but I swear they took a thousand pictures of me. I just stood there smiling, lost in thought and unable to say anything. I had no idea any of this would happen, now wondering how it would affect me and Greta. Finally they were satisfied promising a full page article about our venue and particularly about me in the Sunday paper. Success for the venue probably, but I am not sure how this will play out for me.
I was worn out and frazzled, so I headed home. Greta and the governing committee were in a meeting discussing what had happened tonight. I removed my costume, took a shower that I almost fell asleep in, then crawled under the covers. Instantly I was asleep, not hearing anything until the alarm the next morning. I awoke to a warm body cuddling my new female form, something I could get used to. I got a sensuous kiss, and Greta left to get the paper from the front porch. I had finished using the bathroom, putting on the robe left at the end of the bed presumably for me. I heard a squeal, then Greta came running in. At the same time our doorbell started, somebody was very anxious to have it opened. Greta laid the paper down on the bed, opened to a full page picture of me in costume. I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, almost missing the edge and ending up on the floor.
Greta showed up with Justine in tow, I blushed at being seen in a nightie and a quite feminine looking robe. Justine ran to me and hugged the living daylights out of me, repeatedly kissing my face and thanking me. According to her the inquiries at our website were off the chart, people wanting to know when we going to open and if they could get tickets to the show. Justine’s husband was trying to answer as many inquiries as possible since he is the one that had set-up the website. Justine telling Greta they had an emergency meeting in a few minutes, where they were going to try and figure out how to proceed.
Greta got dressed and left me alone in the house in just my nightie. I managed to find some fruit to eat, still remembering how tight the corset was yesterday to allow me to fit in my dress. I decided on a soak in a warm bath, to let my worries melt away. I used some of her bath salts emerging smelling like a field of flowers a very fragrant field of flowers. I most likely used way too much bath salts, but I did smell good.
I dressed in a blouse and a pair of shorts, most of my male clothes no longer fitting over the adornments on my chest and hips. Two hours later that is where Greta found me curled up on a chair on our patio. She sat next to me, with a piece of paper in front of her. I presumed what they had decided in their hastily called meeting.
Several people who penned articles about the venue said it was shame that there were not dancing girls like in the old west, a natural fit to our little slice of the old west. So they decided to offer dancing in the saloons in between the shows. A ticket could be purchased for a dance with one of the girls, good for two songs. Then a photographer would be available to take a picture of the twosome, offering prints as a reminder of the occasion. It would be mainly aimed at the guys, since dancing with a busty saloon girl would probably appeal to any red blooded male. To make sure that things were kept to dancing only, the guys doing the gun fighting would be on the dance floor as chaperons. If a wife of a guy that was dancing with a saloon girl wanted to dance he would be available for her. No tickets necessary for a dance with him.
To accommodate the dancing they were going to do less shows, the few shows that remained would last a little longer. I was happy about that, but not when I found out I would be included in the girls available for dancing. My tickets would cost more of course, since I was the star of the show.
One show in the afternoon for the families, two in the evening for couples or singles only. That was two less than originally planned, a plus for me, except for the added dancing. I was not eager to be held by some male as he led me around the dance floor. I could see the possibility for more revenue, but at my expense. I finally relented, a lot was riding on this venture, I was not going to be the reason it stuttered or failed.
So now along with everything else I was given a crash course in dancing as a female. Of course a lot of the husbands volunteered to be my dance partner, I never realized how grabby a male can be with his hands. I did make it through the dance lessons, ending up dancing with every male in the group at one time or the other.
Some were quite good dancers, I enjoyed them the most, being swirled around the dance floor in my skirts quite pleasurable. Then after a long day back to our house and seen to by Greta. By the time I got to sleep it had been a very long day. Such is the life of a saloon singer in the old west.
The first week was pure torture, all of these things to get used to, plus doing my act three to four times a day. By the second week I was getting used to things some, the heels not bothering me as much and actually able to take in some normal breaths from time to time while encased in the corset.
I was told of several people that I had to avoid, since she will not tolerate me flirting with certain males of the group. If I didn’t behave she would see that a chastity belt is purchased for me and utilized. That said with quite a bit of giggling involved.
My male life soon vanished, in costume for much of the day and doing the three shows a day. The concept was a success, we had hefty crowds most of the time, the saloon shows however the most popular. It was decided to add to the saloons space, closing nearby stores to allow for a bigger audience. Then adding back in one of the deleted shows a month later.
So now I was doing four shows a day, slightly shorter, but still over ninety minutes long. They did close the saloons on Sunday and Wednesday, although the wild west town was still open for visitors. That mainly due too preserving my voice, seven days a week very hard on the vocal chords.
The favorite shows for me were the ones geared toward the family, the kids in attendance fun to sing to, quite often they would sing along with me, if they knew the words. Several of those shows would end up near the two hour mark in length.
The last show of the night I often was super naughty. It was set up where I would sing to the males, often sitting on their lap singing to them my hands in their hair or playing with their ears. Of course, the male would blush, especially if his spouse was at the same table. If the wife or girlfriend was enjoying me toying with their spouse, I would wink at them and plant a kiss on the males cheek, the lipstick mark quite visible due to my red lipstick. Of course, a picture at that time snapped to preserve the moment. You would not believe the amount of photos we sold taken that way.
My life did change, now dressed as a female all the time, even on my two days off my feminine figure requiring female fashions to be worn. I got to where I enjoyed the dancing as much as singing. Three times the price of dancing with me was raised, each time no complaints from the customers, even if they had visited us before. One thing I did not expect is the hundreds of photos of me that were sold each day, although being pestered to autograph each one was getting out of hand. Soon the photos were offered with my autograph on them already, a much more satisfactory solution for me.
Greta and I actually became closer if that is even possible. Each day I had to work I was escorted to and from the town by her, kissed sensuously and then hugged hard. When dancing she kept a close eye on me making sure my dance partners were keeping their hands where allowed.
At home I was spoiled rotten, with her catering to my every whim. I was not very demanding to be cuddled, kissed and hugged more than enough for me. Junior was never released, Greta and I making love as two females. In a way I found that to be more enjoyable, on the bottom and being made love to. I often had several orgasms, after sex having to use a tampon or take a bath to keep the sticky liquid from running down my legs. I never got to sleep till the early morning hours, having to work until one in the morning then being seen to by Greta until several hours later.
Looking back I am amazed at how easily I fitted into the role, from my being caught singing with out friends to on stage dressed in all of my feminine finery and belting out songs to the crowd. Kitty is the saloon singer of our little town, a true Gurl Of The Old West.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2020 Fran Cesca Walker