Lorrie; Turnabout Queen

I have been at college for over a year now. It is a small private institution with an enrollment of around five-thousand students. Since it is a private school, it had no state or federal intrusion as to curriculum or admission standards. The school lacked some of the fancier frills that the larger universities have, but the classrooms are sufficient and the professors, although not widely known or published are of the highest caliber.

Most other colleges used SAT or PSAT scores to qualify their students, not here. There is a series of interviews where three separate panels of professors asked questions and scrutinized academic records of your schooling. Then one final interview with the dean of the school, her opinion plus the committee’s recommendation about admission taken into consideration. The selection process eliminated a lot of the students that are just in school to party or spend four years away from their families on a paid vacation.

Somehow I made it thru the interviews, a lot of personal questions being asked about most everything that has happened in my life. I am a fairly normal young male, twenty years old, a good student, and usually involved in many extra-curricular activities. In high school, I was senior class president, played in the school band, a member of the chess club, and also a member of the spirit team.

A spirit team is a group of students that helped in supporting different school teams in sports, although we did once participate when our school debate team competed in the state competition. We tried to get the students involved in supporting our teams through pep rallies, fundraisers, school dances, even a couple of spirit days through the year when a particular theme was promoted for that day. We weren’t cheerleaders, no pom-poms, no cute short uniforms although we typically incorporated our school colors in our manner of dress.

At games, we were there with the cheerleaders as they cheered for the team. While the cheerleaders were on the field, we usually took our place in the stands, rising to our feet when our team needed a little inspiration. We had lots of songs, jingles, cheers, and assorted antics that were designed to boost school spirit that we employed all during the game. Most of all the spirit team was a fun experience, I made a lot of friends, and some of them I still communicate with now. In fact, a few of them are here with me at this college although we didn’t have many classes together.

In college, I missed that camaraderie that I had with other students in the spirit team. During my first year, I joined many different college groups to try and find similar experiences that I could share with new friends. That is how I ended up in this particular group. A female friend that I had met in some of my freshman classes, and got to know quite well over the year, asked me to join them when I returned for my sophomore year.

The school really wasn’t large enough for class representatives, so a bunch of girls and a few guys got together to form a club to help plan activities for the student body. The club filled in for an unofficial class structure, but since it was a small college, they were acting for all, freshman through seniors. The club evenly composed of members of all the separate classes, so each class had some representation.

They gained some official school support but still can act independently of the college. During the first part of my sophomore year, I was able to help them with a school dance, with me working on the decorating committee. It was a lot of fun, the two days leading up to the dance an absolute blast. There was four of us in charge of the decorations, and the auditorium was a totally different place after we got through with the decorations.

The dance was a huge success, and the decorations were talked about for several weeks after the event. Did I forget to mention that it was also a lot of work, the week leading up to the dance I spent forty hours with the preparations for the dance? I loved every hour of it, though, couldn’t wait to see what we were going to do the next day. We had some general ideas, but most of the decorations were spur of the moment ideas.

We had decorated the auditorium like a girls’ bedroom, with large stuffed animals, ruffled drapes and in the center a large canopy bed like structure that served as the refreshment center. We had borrowed several vanities to spread around the dance floor, where the females could sit to fix their makeup. All along the walls, there were large posters of boy bands, and teen idols decorating the auditorium walls. Several smaller canopy beds positioned around the edges for the couples to sit on. As the dance progressed, we noticed quite a few couples taking advantage of the beds to sit on. Surprisingly there was no frowned upon activities on these same beds. The entertainment for the night was a local band playing the hits of the fifties and sixties, all in all, a great dance.

At the next meeting, the group was discussing ideas for their next project. Scattered in among these larger functions they were always having car washes, garage sales, and bake sales to raise funds for the several charities that we sponsored. I am the only active member that is a male this year, although quite often the girl’s boyfriends take part in various events. It wasn’t that they limited their membership to females, it was just that most males do not feel comfortable belonging to such a group.

The ideas being brought up at the meeting were many and varied, similar to the membership of the club. Since they never did agree on a name for the club, it is just referred to as the club. Altogether we had forty members, ten members of each class, although not everybody participated in every event due to their schedules and homework load.

Since I had no trouble with my studies, I have been able to help in most every event or project they sponsored. Tricia, my friend that asked me to join the club, became the club president early in my sophomore year; she had more energy and enthusiasm than ten females, her drive, and stamina her strongest traits. Due to her perseverance and drive the club tackled twice as many projects as before. Four months into the school year, the fundraising activities have already exceeded the year’s goals, good news for the charities.

The debate on what to do next went on for several weeks; most of the girls wanted to do something big for the school, something to bring the students together in purpose and goals. There is talk of a homecoming dance, a ball of sorts, fancier than our regular dances. We had no sporting teams, so there was not really a reason for the homecoming, but it sounded good. There was talk of a homecoming queen, for the affair, but the females that attended this college were not the beauty queen type, so they quickly nixed that idea. The cheerleader type of female went to the larger universities, while the nerdier females went here. A lot of them looked nice, some quite attractive, but beauty, makeup, weekly salon visits is not this groups cup of tea.

Tricia wanted some figurehead for the dance, though, somebody to reign over the festivities. Then one of her friends suggested that we take the queen part of the name and turn it around a little. Tricia’s eyes lit up; you could see the wheels turning before the other girl could fully explain her idea.

The idea is to have a school vote for a homecoming queen, a male that would reign over the dance in full female attire. Since they wanted the full student body to vote for the queen, there wouldn’t be the typical lame impersonations of a female that can occur with this type of idea. Then the name of Turnabout Queen was brought forward, and the idea became reality.

Then one of the computer nerds, yes a female suggested that we take pictures of each nominated candidate and Photoshop them to how they will appear as a female so that the student body can see what each candidate will look like as a female. I thought the idea was great and offered to help in any way that I could. It was explained in the school newspaper what the club had in mind and asked for nominations from the student body for a queen. With the increased national press coverage of males dressing as a female the idea was widely received and in only a few short days there was a list of nominations for the upcoming election.

The female students thought the idea is great, a male becoming the Queen, reigning over the ball, all dressed up in female finery. The common quote was it was about time we had a male as a Queen, a beauty pageant for the male sex. The male population of the college thought it is great as long as their name is not mentioned in the same breath. The name Turnabout Queen was gaining in its usage, talked about by almost the whole student population.

The administration weighed in on the idea, but after being assured that it would be done straight, no mockery of the female sex and seeing such widespread support for the idea, they gave their support to the idea.

The club approached each nominated candidate, asked them if they would participate in the election, and if they agreed a photo is taken to convert so that the electorate could see them as the female queen. A lot of the guys backed off, being elected queen too much for their delicate ego. Only a few members of the club were privy to the males that were nominated, so it took about a week to approach each nominated candidate.

After my last class of the day, as I was heading to my car, I am approached by Tricia. She asked me if she could buy me dinner, she had some club business that she would like to discuss with me. The dinner request has happened before, when we were discussing plans for one particular dance, so it is not unusual. Tricia’s family is quite wealthy, so her expendable income is huge compared to the normal student. I drove to a burger joint that the majority of the students at the college ate at, the place quiet in the evening as compared to their lunch business. I met Tricia out front, and we found a quiet table in the corner and ordered our food.

Tricia told me that I had received many nominations for Turnabout Queen. I felt confident that it is just a few votes, so I dismissed her statement. I told her that I would prefer not to be involved in the election, dressing as a female, not the best thing to do for a male, other males usually quite vocal about the participation. She smiled but asked where my school spirit was, you have participated in every event and project that the club has backed, but now you beg off, just because you might get kidded or have to take a little ridicule.

She was right, but I was still wary of getting involved. We talked a little more about the election, of how they were going to promote the contest, to get as many students to vote as possible. Finally, I asked her if she could tell me how many nomination votes I had received. She started out with several males that I knew, telling me that they received eight and ten votes respectfully.

Then another upperclassman that had received forty votes. That didn’t surprise me since he was quite popular with the females. Apparently, some of the females saw the contest as a way to get their boyfriend into female clothes, maybe a way to get them to drop some of the macho behavior they show constantly.

She confided in me that as of last night they had twelve contestants that had agreed to participate, their photos taken and their alter egos pictures ready for distribution. They figured as the campaign for the election got started that they would probably lose two to three more contestants due to embarrassment. She has looked at several of the photos that have been altered and most of them turned out quite girly.

Then she got around to me; I had amassed three hundred and seventy votes in the nomination process, making me the most popular choice for Turnabout Queen. Shocked and floored I don’t think I even know that many people at college. “You have to be kidding me, tell me you are just joking with me.”

“I kid you not, all the members of the club are astounded at your nomination votes, we thought you would get some votes; I am sure most of the club members voted for you, but not that level of support.”

I asked how that happened; I am only a sophomore, and although I am active in school activities, I don’t have many friends. Tricia smiled and told me that I apparently have a lot more friends than I thought, or I had made a lot of enemies with the male students, and this was their way of getting even. Either way, I got the votes, so am I going to be a participant or just another student to make wild statements and then do nothing about them. I think she knew she had me, playing with the guilt that I might feel by not participating.

I conceded defeat and agreed to enter the election. She hugged me and then reached into her purse, withdrawing a picture and handed it to me. She said that I am looking at the winner of the Turnabout Queen contest. I tried to pay attention to what she is saying, but the image in the picture brought a sudden halt to that.

The female in the picture is gorgeous, a real classic beauty. Her hair is down past her shoulders, wearing a strapless ball gown and dangling earrings. I looked back at Tricia, her giggling catching my attention. She caught her breath and asked if I recognized the young female. I looked up at her, and then all of a sudden a horrible thought came to me. The photo is an altered picture of me, I got wobbly and grabbed the table to steady myself. Things were spinning all around me. Finally, I slumped down in the chair, losing consciousness in the process.

Tricia was by my side when coherent thoughts returned, rubbing my forehead with a damp napkin. She giggled again at my reaction to the revelation. “I knew it would shock you, but I didn’t expect you to faint. So typical girl of you.”

I knew that besides feeling a little woozy, my face is turning in a believable impression of a fire truck, a bright red fire truck. It took me, at last, fifteen minutes for normal brain activity to resume, by that time I had so many different thoughts running through my mind that I was sure the circuits would overload.

I asked again if she was pulling my leg, but she assured that the votes are real and Janice the Photoshop professional only spent five minutes making me looking like a female. The picture is from the first dance that I had served on the decoration committee, and Janice had the least trouble converting the male into the female of all the pictures she had converted. I am dumbfounded, but more than that, I didn’t know what to do. Do I just put my name in and wait for the outcome or do I actively participate? Tricia had a few ideas on that, and over the next hour, she filled me in.

A lot of the students seem to think that me as a Turnabout Queen is the best choice, so she suggested that I play it shy and quiet, acknowledging that I am in the contest, but otherwise making no comments. She is so sure that I will be a runaway winner of the contest that even if I withdraw later in the contest, I will still end up as the Turnabout Queen. I doubted that but agreed to keep my name in the campaign.

She made me a little side bet that I will win with over ninety percent of the student body vote both male and female included. I thought about that for a minute; I doubted that even seventy percent of the student body would vote, much less for me. I told her that I would take that bet. The smoke is coming from her ears as she was contemplating something, and then her mouth engaged. Her next words would become an Edgar Allen Poe-like moment in the months to come.

“If I am right, and you win with a ninety percent victory, or more you will say as Lorrie for the rest of the sophomore year. If you win and get less than that, I will be your personal maid and slave for the same time. Less than fifty percent of the vote and I will be your girlfriend for the remainder of our time here at college.” That last snippet mouthed with the biggest grin you have seen on a young college coed.

The fact that I have had a crush on her ever since meeting her in my freshman year made the bet much more meaningful to me. To have her as my girlfriend for the rest of my time at college, a fantasy that I hoped to come true. When a desire starts to control the brain bad things happen, I took the bet, thinking I was sure to win, maybe even secure Tricia as a girlfriend for the remaining time at college. I think she likes me personally, so the bet is not all bad for her. We have shared in a lot of things, but my shyness kept me from formally asking her out on a date.

Wow, was all I could say, she certainly is confident, but her percentage is almost impossible to obtain, so I felt comfortable to shake hands on the deal. She added as an afterthought that if I get ninety-five percent of the vote, she will add in a to die for wardrobe for the new Lorrie, befitting my new sex. If I get ninety-eight percent of the vote I move in with her as a female roommate. Lest you think that these new additions are only words with the wardrobe, you will dress as a female 24/7, and as a female roommate, you will play the part with complete authenticity. No sex, just lots of makeovers, clothes shopping and double dates with men will be the order of the day.

That last percent does exclude your vote as you are biased and show extreme prejudice. Well, with those additional incentives I quickly agreed, before she could change her mind. Then I thought what if she wins, what am I going to do, all those things are a bit much for a normal male, and with only a few of those things in place, I doubt there would be anything normal about me.

She told me of some of the plans for getting everybody involved, how the pictures are going to be circulated, and the preliminary plans for the ball. It is going to include a grand entrance of the Turnabout Queen from a gigantic disco ball lowered from the ceiling of the auditorium. I suddenly had a cold shiver run up and down my spine. What if I am the queen, making my entrance from that disco ball.

The club did an excellent job with the promotion for the Turnabout Queen. Posters were put up all around campus showing all the entrants in all their feminine finery. The individual photos are handed out at any school function over the next few weeks and, of course, the girls of the club actively spoke to all that were interested in the upcoming ball. I helped in the preparations for the ball but kept as quiet as possible about my involvement.

I received a lot more recognition around campus than I was used to. Almost everybody referred to me as Lorrie, a name the club had come up with for my publicity pictures. In fact, most of my professors even called me that in class. The one thing that I am thankful for is that the club had prohibited any of the entrants from dressing in anything feminine until the voting is completed. The contest is simply a popular vote election for a queen for the ball, no lewd dressing up, no humiliation of the contestants and definitely no making fun at the contestant’s expense.

The level of recognition that I received should have set off a warning signal to me. Lorrie was the only name I heard for weeks, from students and professors alike. Never in a nasty way, just acknowledging me by that name. I was never kidded even by my male contemporaries, but any reference to my name is always as Lorrie. As the election got closer I was beginning to worry some, I doubted that many would vote, but being always referred to in the feminine is disturbing.

My mind is trying to convince myself to get that level of support for the Turnabout Queen is impossible, but then the voice of reason chimed in, you did get over three hundred votes in the nomination process. The three weeks between the nomination and the actual voting flew by, and the election is today. I am astounded as I walked around the campus; the lines were out the door at the three voting places. To keep from any tampering with the vote, the ballots were printed out at the time of voting, by a computer, with the computer allowing only one vote per student.

That evening the votes were tallied by the computer and the club was advised of the winner. I was beginning to feel confident of escaping untouched when no one came to see me that evening, Tricia and I had the same class first thing the next morning, so I greeted her as she entered the classroom. I received a hug, and she had the biggest grin I had ever seen plastered on her face. Nothing more is said, the class is not too bad, political science not ever a difficult class. After class she asked me to come with her to the club office, she had something to show me.

I am a little apprehensive, but since she hadn’t said anything, I figured I had escaped the bullet. As we entered the room, she pointed to a desk in the corner. On the desk are the ballots from yesterday and the computer printout declaring the winner. I sat down at the desk and started looking at the ballots, picking several at random. Everyone had my name circled, becoming a little more nervous I looked at more of the ballots, and my name appeared as the choice on each of those.

I finally looked at the printout and let out the biggest sigh of my life. Tricia asked me to tell her what the printout said. I gave her a look but read from it as she requested. “The college as of yesterday had 4,987 students, with Lorrie Richardson receiving 4,986 votes for Turnabout Queen.”

At the time, I don’t remember her saying anything; I later found out that they had sold all their tickets for the ball at twice what they had first determined to be the price they would charge. They could have sold more, but the auditorium is not big enough to handle any more people. The clubs funds are now flush with all the incoming money, a fact they are extremely happy with, a real plus to the club’s activities for the year.

I sat there and cried, actual sobbing would be a more accurate description of my actions. She left me alone for a couple of minutes, then sat down next to me and comforted me. She asked if I wanted to go through the ballots to verify the results, but I declined. Then she handed me a letter from the club pronouncing me the winner of the Turnabout Queen competition and asking for my participation in the ball this coming Friday. She said all my clothing and beauty services had been taken care of and would be available at my transformation appointment starting tomorrow at eight A.M. To fulfill my obligations to the ball, my classes for the next three days are canceled.

Tricia looked at me, wanting to know if I was alright. I nodded in a positive way but doubted that I am. She asked if she could take me home so that I could think about things, I definitely didn’t want to be alone, so asked if there is some other option. I am really scared and didn’t want to be left alone by myself. She told me we were going to be roommates eventually, so you can stay with me. She helped me up and dragged me to her car, for the short ride to her home.

She had rented a three bedroom house, and she and two other coeds shared the expenses. She informed me we would share a room in the house, the old master bedroom, but she assured that it had enough closet space for both of us. Why closet space is a concern worried me than the other parts of the puzzle fell in, for my new wardrobe I needed space to hang the outfits.

Then I remembered all the rest of the bets that she had with me, and drooped my shoulders a little lower. From a young male to a college coed in less than a week, and having to portray that image for the rest of the school year. Somehow she managed to get me to her house and into the bedroom. I was depressed, my mind shut down, and my body is shaking. She gently removed my clothes, placed a nightie over my head and positioned my body on one side of the bed. She is in the bathroom for a few minutes, but returned in a like garment and cuddled me from behind.

In minutes, I am asleep, not from being tired, but from all the stress of the last few hours. To my surprise, it is five in the afternoon before I stirred. The surroundings were different, and it took my mind a few minutes to remember where I am and why I am here. It was still too much to figure out, but being terrified of the end results seemed less somehow. I noticed that Tricia is not in bed with me, so I got up and used the bathroom. I found a robe on the back of the door and slipped it on since I didn’t see any of my male clothes anywhere.

I made my way out to the kitchen looking for something to drink. There didn’t seem to be anybody home, so I found some juice and drank a glass. That is followed up with a bottle of water from the fridge. I made my way to the living room and a loveseat that overlooked the backyard through a bay window. The scene in the window is peaceful, and I sat there and stared at the birds playing in the trees and the bird bath that beckoned them. I didn’t hear Tricia come in but was startled when she came up behind me and placed her arms around me. She asked if I am better, nodding yes, I leaned a little back into her embrace, needing her presence to comfort me. I tried not to be romantic, but her being close just seemed right somehow.

I am led back to the bedroom, and she undressed me. I tried to cover my genitals with my hand, but she moved them to my side and handed me a pair of panties. I looked around again for my male clothes, but not finding them I knew I had no choice. I stared at her, but she stared back, and I ended up pulling them up my legs. The shivers I received as they slid up my legs not expected. Next, she approached me with a bra in her hands, getting my arms through the straps and reaching behind me and fastening the clasp. She added some foam inserts and then reached for a blouse. By this time, I figured I had lost all chance of averting the upcoming disaster so I offered my arms so that she could get the blouse on me.

She did up the buttons, and then a pair of slacks is offered. I blindly pulled them up my legs and reached for the zipper. There was none in the front, Tricia buttoning something behind me, and a zipper being pulled up told me that the zipper had been in the back. A pair of tennis shoes completed the outfit. She told me that we are the same size in clothes, so I am borrowing some of hers until we can go shopping. She pushed me down on the vanity chair and took a brush to my hair. It wasn’t long, just long enough to get into a ponytail. She brushed it out framing my face with the loose hair.

In the mirror I didn’t see my former Larry persona, maybe not totally female but too close for comfort. My wallet and keys slipped into a purse, and she dragged me to the door. I tried to stop her, but before I could respond I am out the door, and the door is locked. Tricia smiled, telling me that it is time to get something to eat. Back to the school’s favorite hangout, a fifteen-minute drive from her house. I tried again to stay in the car, dressed like this I am scared to death of being seen by anyone. Finally, Tricia threatened me that if I didn’t come in willingly, she would find the first boy and tell him that I am dying to kiss him.

Quickly I looked in the mirror above the windshield, a female returned my stare, I looked for Tricia, and she is walking up to a male that had just arrived, and he looked my way. I was out of the car faster than the Road Runner, quickly making my way to her side. She introduced me to him, a Jim Evans, another entrant in the queen contest. With a bigger smile than necessary, he congratulated me on my win. I am sure he is thrilled that I won the contest, better me than him. Then Tricia and I made our way into the burger joint.

I felt every person’s eyes were on me as we found a table to occupy. The waitress took our orders, but only after congratulating me on my win. Now the red on my cheeks is appearing much more often, but I guess the money I will save on blush will make it worthwhile. Several fellow students came over to offer me their congratulations on my victory, even a few wanting to know if I am accepting dance reservations for the ball. That seemed to get Tricia’s attention, for what I didn’t know. My lack of ability to focus on anything at the moment caused me to seek a more private place. That turned out to be impossible as even more people approached me.

A couple are guys; I think they were just thrilled that they had not been in the running for the queen, the females I didn’t know what they were thinking. Why would they want to dance with a male looking like a Prom Queen? Tricia just smiled throughout the ordeal, watching as I tried to act normal, and not break down in tears, although that is how I am feeling at the moment. I would have no trouble dancing with my fellow students, male or female, well maybe I would, but they are more pressing matters in my male mind. All of this plus portraying a female for the rest of the school year is more than a little scary.

We finished our meal, with Tricia taking my hand and leading me back to the car. She drove off in a different direction from whence we arrived, but so confused in my thoughts; I didn’t pay much attention. We ended in one of the state parks nearby, at one of their scenic viewing areas with Tricia putting her arms around my shoulders. She just hugged me, not saying anything, just consoling a tired and confused soul. It felt so good in be in her embrace.

We talked quite a while, the realization of what I am expected to do sinking in through that thick skull of mine. She told me that I never came across as a macho jerk, my temperament is more casual and feminine. I stared at her over the feminine remark. She just smiled, you fit in with the girls, in everything you do. You talk to us as equals, never pushing your ideas, and the idea you had for that first dance, tell me that is not the most feminine idea we had suggested. What male would suggest canopy beds, vanities, pictures of boy bands? I rest my case.

Everybody in the club has talked it over, just this afternoon as you slept. If after you try it for a couple of weeks, you are still against it, I will drop all my other bets with you. I talked it over with the club because they think you will benefit with the time as a female as do I. They have all promised one hundred percent support whichever way you decide to go.

I laid on her shoulder, wondering about the future. “It is that damn spirit club in high school that got me into this mess. If only I had not joined the club at college, maybe none of this would happen.” Tricia turned my face towards her, you know that line of thought is false, you are a caring person that needs to be involved in life to make you complete. Anything you can do as a male you can do better as a female, only the clothes and lifestyle have changed for you.

“I have secured a salon to do your transformation for the ball and afterward. Nothing is permanent, a few things lasting a little longer than others, but all reversible. Please try it for me, keep an open mind and after the ball, we will talk it through in detail including your feelings and thoughts. I don’t think you have realized all that this involves yet, but I hope you will soon.”

I looked up at her with a few tears in my eyes. “Why do you think I asked to stay with you here? If you will have me, I am yours. I have felt that way from the first time I met you; I just thought I was in over my head, that you wouldn’t ever be interested in me.”

As Tricia held my head and kissed me, I thanked my guardian angel for steering me into her life. I also figured I would never be the dominant one in this relationship, not something I would fret about in the upcoming days. I melted into her kisses, each one better than the last, each one a kiss to remember. That night we did nothing more than kiss and hugged each other, something that I am very thankful for that evening. I loved her, but for now, all I wanted to do is kiss, hug, and treasure her.

It is stupid fate that the transformation had to start the next morning. No time to devise a way out of this ordeal, just enough time to pull on a bright pink sweat suit, brush my teeth, and head out the door. Maybe that is better, the less time that I have to think about it, the less that I will dread it. The salon is fairly new to the area, opening only five months ago. Believe it or not, they advertise primarily for the male customer that wishes to experience his feminine side.

The décor is quite girly, not a thing in the salon that could be considered masculine. Their use of pink and other pastel colors made the salon bright and inviting. Kind of like a spring day, bright, cheerful, and inviting. As soon as they saw Tricia several of the stylists came to the front and grabbed my hands, I was introduced to Sally and Mary Ann, my stylists for the day. I looked to Tricia, not wanting to be left alone with these two females, she gave me a hug, told me that I would receive pampering all day just like a queen.

As I am being led back to a treatment room, I turned twice to see if Tricia is following us. She waved and then blew me a kiss as she headed out the door. When they got me in the treatment room, Sally is the first to speak. Everybody here knows about you; you have nothing to worry about, our only goal is to make you totally feminine so that you can rule over your subjects at the dance. We think you are quite brave and caring to do this for Tricia and the club. Try to relax and have a little fun, it is special to be a female, you obviously deserve the experience, along with the pampering and respect.

They turned on a screen on the far wall, and the image of a beautiful female came onto the screen. She introduced herself as Francine, the owner of the salons. She is happy to meet Lorrie in person; she has heard so much about me. I looked down, I couldn’t hold eye contact with her, and I felt embarrassed to be here under these circumstances. She had Sally lift my chin so that I was looking at her eyes. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about here. Whether male or female you are the same person, caring for others, helping others, a simple fact that you should remember.”

Francine told me what is scheduled for me today, how long the treatment lasts and what it will do to enhance my femininity. She told me that Tricia is just next door picking out my wardrobe for me, a beautiful young female needs lots of pretty clothes to wear. Nothing we are doing today is permanent so after a couple of weeks; you can be returned to male mode if you so desire. Most everybody that has spoken of you thinks the female side of you is the genuine you. Try it out for a couple of weeks, see what you like and then Tricia, you and I can sit down and discuss the future.

“Now for the girls to be able to work their magic you need to undress and let them start. Lay back and think feminine thoughts; you will be totally female when you leave the salon tonight. Tomorrow when you come in we will get you prepared for your grand entrance. Please enjoy.” The screen went blank, and Sally started removing my clothes. For some reason, it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it might.

I had never experienced waxing before, didn’t even know it is often done. The pain made me quickly realize why I never looked into the treatment. The two girls made quick work of the limited amount of hair on my body, the groin and my knees and elbows the most painful. Sally kept up a steady chatter with me, telling me what they were doing, and repeatedly informing me that when they finished there will be no male left. The cream after the waxing made things better for a while, the massage accompanying the cream application to die for, just wish it could have lasted longer.

Then the attention is moved to my chest, Mary Ann bringing a box with two perfect blobs of quivering tissue to the table I am laying on. She positions each on my chest and makes marks for their placement. Glue is applied to my chest, and the back of the forms, and then the blobs are pushed down on the marks. After a few minutes they are set, and I now have breasts. A heavier makeup is used along the seams completely hiding the fact they are not part of me.

Sally asks if I want the matching lower appliance, I start to say no, then think if I am doing this long time I need to look the part. A lot of troubling situations come to mind if I am discovered as a male in female clothes. I ask her to go ahead with it. As she is putting it on my body, she informs me that to pee I have to sit like a lady. With regards to sex, I can have an orgasm, but the cum mostly stays in the appliance. They both giggled at that statement. I started to ask, but they both told me to ask Tricia, and she will explain.

The testicles were pushed up into my body, the other pieces of that organ glued to my skin on the groin to keep them secure. Then the fake vagina glued over that to make the look complete. I raised my head to take a peek, and I had two gorgeous lips, waiting for some attention. I didn’t go any further with my thoughts, maybe at a later time, much later.

From there they moved me to a chair and washed and conditioned my shoulder length hair. After that extensions were added to my existing hair, over three hundred individual strands of hair making my hair full and long. The new length now to my shoulder blades. It took both of them almost four hours to add all the new hair.

We took a break; I received some fruit and a bottle of water. My look of disappointment made Sally giggle, remember you are a female now, a trim figure is necessary to be able to wear all your pretty clothes. The fruit is filling, and the water hit the spot, my partially dry throat feeling much better.

I had been increasingly aware of the movement of my breasts every time I moved my arms or my body. The constant distraction, beginning to get to me. Mary Ann noticed and told me they will get me a bra right after the break. As long as you remain female, you will need to wear a bra, to keep the girls quiet and supported. The weight seemed quite excessive for their size, a C cup according to Mary Ann. I had to straighten up several times as the weight seemed to be encouraging me to lean forward all the time.

After the break, Sally cut the hair to blend it into an appropriate feminine hairstyle. Finishing the cut, my hair is wound on rollers, the style taking quite a few rollers apparently. Under a dryer so that the hair can dry keeping the curl intact. Mary Ann started on my nails, filing them onto neat ovals then adding extensions to each nail. The look is feminine; there is no doubt about that, but whether I can function with the extensions another matter. After all is completed ten extensions are glued on; my hands are placed under a UV light to set the glue.

Then an application of base coat to seal the nail, followed by three coats of color, then a shiny top coat to finish off the manicure. Drying under the UV light between each coat to ensure the polish is set and secure. My hands had turned suddenly from run of the mill male to elegantly female. With the hands done my toenails are next, albeit no extensions are used in their preparation.

Looking at my image in the mirror, I saw the female in the picture that had been circulated on campus. The bra did make its way onto my body, the support and quieting of the quivering flesh a welcome relief. Nothing fancy, just a simple bra in white. The tightness of the band around my chest requiring a little time to get used to, definitely something I am not used to having around my body. A fancier lacy white pantie is next, thankfully not a bikini or thong pantie, this one a full cut ladies pantie. It felt different as I settled the waistband around my body, nothing dangling to distract from the smooth line of my groin.

Then a pair of slacks, in a very feminine ivory color, very thin and draping around my body, the cuffs swirling around my feet. A matching blouse in even a thinner material, the outline of the bra showing through the material. I asked if they didn’t have something with a little more coverage, but the girls assured me that this is the height of fashion now. I did receive some low heels to practice in, tomorrow’s heel height going to be five inches in height.

Sally told me makeup and some lessons in deportment are first things in the morning, and then some figure control help and dressing in my ball gown, followed by scents and jewelry to finish off my look. I have tuned her out, my image in the mirror keeping my eyes focused on the mirror. I can’t believe the change, in less than a day my male image totally obliterated.

Tricia chose that moment to show up again; she had come thru a rear door to the salon both of her arms loaded with bags. I figured the contents were for me, for my new life as a college coed. That thought not as scary as before, but still a lot of reluctance involved in embracing that route. She left her purchases on a chair at the front, then appraised my appearance. The resulting tender hug with kisses on my face made me feel that maybe this is all worth it.

She paid for my services, in fact, she paid for tomorrow too. She kept glancing my way, eager to get another look at me. The smiles displayed on her face, an indicator of her happiness. We headed to the car, with me having to carry some of the bags. Told not to peek, the fashion shows tonight, soon enough to view my new look. I thought we would go straight home, but Tricia wanted to eat out, to show off her new girlfriend. A classier restaurant, mainly Italian dishes, but priced for the college trade is her choice.

We were seated right up front, I had hoped in a secluded area, but that is not to be. Even more, students came to congratulate me on my victory, but the females came to compliment me on my looks. More than one of Tricia’s friends admitted to being jealous of my looks. These females are very good looking, I am not sure how they could be jealous of me. Nobody called me by male name, Lorrie the only name used as we talked.

We finished our meal; I noticed that my appetite has been curtailed drastically, not sure if I am concerned about my figure, or just still in shock from the circumstances I find myself in lately. Walking out to the car, Tricia had my hand firmly in her grasp and had no intention of letting it go. She got the door for me, then after seated myself in the passenger seat made a fuss about fastening my seat belt.

Finally back at Tricia’s home, we lugged the many bags into her bedroom. Both of her roommates are home, and I received big friendly hugs from them. They loved my new look, appraising me from head to toe. Both of her roommates were also in the club, telling Tricia that the sales on dancing with the Queen were all sold out. I gave Tricia a sly smile and asked when the Queen was going to be told about my required dancing. She looked down but whispered that the money is for one of the charities, the children’s home the recipient in this case.

Then Shelly, the blonde roommate, told me that most of the dances have been paid for by female coeds, wanting to dance with the Turnabout Queen, All in all, they had sold forty dances at twenty dollars a dance. Why anybody would want to pay good money to dance with me a mystery. Tricia asked about my dancing skills since I didn’t reply she went to one of the bags and took out a dress and told me to change. Shelly is in charge of music, and Tiffany is sent to find my new heels from the bags scattered around the floor.

I managed to get the slacks off and eventually the blouse. Getting into the dress wasn’t much of a problem, but I couldn’t reach the zipper. I walked back to the living room and asked Tricia to zip me. I am not sure that a female needs to be groped that much to get a back zipper to go up, but her giggling as she zipped me up a sign of her having fun. The heels were something else; I felt like I was walking on stilts. I told her no way could I dance in these heels, much less walk in them. Lucky for me there is an ankle strap to keep them on my feet.

She grabbed my hand as the music started, put her other hand around my waist and started dancing to the music. The song is Dancing Queen by Abba; I looked over at Shelly, who gave me the biggest smile. Surprisingly I found myself dancing with Tricia with no trouble. I am just following her lead, being swept around the room, the heels not seeming to cause me any difficulty at all. In the past I had a hard time leading when dancing, now to be able to follow as a female might, is quite surprising. The other surprise is that I am enjoying myself immensely. It is fun, and then when I leaned in closer to Tricia, all inhibitions seemed just to fly away. I did get to lay my head on her shoulder in a couple of the slower numbers, pure heaven.

My love and I, dancing the evening away. I hope Tricia feels the same way that I do about us, maybe this time as a female won’t be that bad. Shelly did play a couple of different tunes, with both Tricia and Tiffany getting several dances. Shelly claimed she had two left feet, so she remained our disc jockey for the evening. All three proclaimed me ready for the ball; my future partners should be quite pleased with my efforts.

Tricia found me a nightie to wear than after visits to the bathroom we cuddled in bed. Since she only had a double bed, I asked her when we are roommates where do I sleep. With a big grin she patted the bed beside her, where else will you sleep but right next to your girlfriend. After all the day’s activities, I found myself asleep in minutes. I am sure that thought, having a lot to do with the smile on my face. The time or two I had to get up to use the bathroom, I had to untangle myself from her arms. It is obvious she isn’t going to let me go far without her being there.

The next morning she tried to get me out of bed since the bed is so warm, and the nightie caressing my body feels so good, I didn’t want to budge. Then she put her feet on my back and pushed with all her might. I managed to catch myself before I landed on the floor, but barely one arm is hanging on to a sheet and one knee on the floor with the rest of my body on the edge of the bed. I told her I would get up, and then when she relented a little, I scrambled back under the covers. She called for help, both girls coming to help Tricia. They talked for a minute then jerked back the covers, Shelly and Tiffany tickling me and Tricia lip locked on my mouth. She is trying to suck all my breath out while probing with her tongue, the laughter and screams from me seeping out somehow as I am very ticklish. I hurried from the bed to stop the attack, Tricia pulling the nightgown over my head as I tried to escape. That left me mostly naked except for a miniature pair of panties, and Tiffany had her fingers on the waistband of those as I scurried to the bathroom.

Tricia yelled through the door that I had ten minutes, or they were coming in for me. I managed to finish and get out in eight minutes only to find what they wanted me to wear today on the bed. I looked at the very brief clothing, and then at them, then started putting on what is there. The bra is not much more than a few strands of material with a couple of fabric patches over my nipples. No support what so ever. The panties were a thong, mainly lace, and my new lips showing through in all their glory. I pulled on the daisy duke pair of shorts, and a crop top that barely covered my bra. I guess I am sufficiently covered, but I feel naked. Tricia led me to the car telling me that next time I am told to get up I better listen.

The drive to the salon didn’t seem to take as long, maybe because I wasn’t dreading things as much as yesterday. They were waiting for me, several of them chuckling about my outfit as I pranced in on my towering heels. They all commented on the success of their treatment, one day a male the next a raving female.

It started with how to sit, in a chair, on a sofa and how to lay properly on a bed. I guess you could call it seduction 101. Over and over till I got it right, then a few more times until I did it instinctively. Up and down stairs, up the easier of the two, but going down stairs in heels is risky. I did eventually get it right, two hours later. The proper way to hold a cup, eat with a fork, and some basic table etiquette is shown to me. At no time is anything other than a regal way accepted for my actions. I am a queen, and I had to act accordingly.

For lunch, a power bar is all I received. The reason for the limited food offerings apparent as Sally held out the corset that I would soon be wearing. The corset is gorgeous, running from the cups for my breasts to my upper thighs. Mary Ann suggested I watch my liquid intake since using the ladies room in this might be difficult. The corset weighed more than I thought, as they hooked the busk in front of me. It is positioned properly around my body with my breasts firmly supported by the cups. The two of them took over an hour to tighten the laces till they met. Sally told me I now had a twenty-two-inch waist, a reduction of over five inches.

I simply asked when I would be able to take in a breath again. They made me walk around the salon, getting used to the tightness of the garment, although walking around in only a corset and panties does make you feel vulnerable. The panties are essentially covering only the bottom of the corseted body. I did get several compliments from the other customers on my figure. Not sure how to respond to those compliments.

By this time it is getting late in the afternoon, so I am taken back to a larger room where a dress is hanging. Seated in a chair Sally works on my hair again, it having been set in rollers when I first entered the salon today. Forty minutes later the image in the mirror quite breathtaking. She had piled curls on curls on top of my head, with several tendrils around my ears making their way out of the style at the top of my head.

Mary Ann rushed in with jewelry telling Sally that she almost forgot the necklace and earrings. Sally brings over a gun-like object and quickly pierces my ears. All I felt is the spot heating up a little then Mary Ann sliding the earring in and fastening it behind. The necklace draped around my neck with the pendant lying between my breasts quite beautiful. Both pieces done in diamonds and emeralds.

Mary Ann places a cape around my shoulders and starts working on my makeup. I felt no beard stubble this morning, so I presumed that one of the creams used yesterday on my face had stopped that growth. She took her time adding each cosmetic carefully making sure that my look is regal. Foundation starting the process and lipstick finishing up the array of cosmetics used on me. She had glued a strip of false eyelashes on each eye, making my eyes pop. Sally told me that after the ball if I liked the look individual eyelashes could be added to make the look more impressive. Looking in the mirror, I don’t see how much more could be done to make me any more feminine than the image I saw reflected back to me.

They helped me into the bathroom, lowered my panties and had me stand over a porcelain piece in the middle of the room. It is called a bidet and allows you to pee without sitting. Simply squat a little and pee. Then, of course, you have to wipe then pull up your panties. Much easier said than done my mind is not wanting anything to do with this new procedure. More than once I reached down like I had to hold my penis to aim, only to find that the penis is no longer there. I eventually managed to do the deed, but total elapsed time is nearing fifteen minutes.

The dress is next, laid on the floor with me stepping into the center of it. They both helped pull the dress up until the bodice of the dress fit over the cups of the corset. Even as tight as the corset is, I had to take in a breath for them to get the zipper up. The skirt is huge, fanning out farther than the reach of my arms. In an emerald green color with light blue swirls and sequins, the dress is truly worthy of a queen.

Some fragrance is added to my cleavage my wrists and spots behind my ears. It is a delicate scent, very flowery, and quickly a favorite of mine. They get a call that the limo is her to take me to the ball, and Sally escorts me to the front of the salon. She whispers in my ear that Tricia is at the auditorium waiting for me. I am helped into the limo, my skirt taking most of the space. My nerves frazzled; the big moment is near, and I am so not ready for what is going to transpire.

The ride is quick only ten minutes from the salon. Tiffany meets me outside and leads me to the back of the auditorium. There in all its splendor is my vehicle for the evening, a brilliant sparkling disco ball. It is nearly six feet tall and the same across the ball. I am sure that my dress and I will take much of the space inside. There is a door open to the side of the ball for my entry, a small stool for me to sit upon once inside. The top of the ball is connected to the metal framework of the auditorium by three very stout cables. Tiffany handed me a bottle of water, then escorted me inside the ball. I would have to wait for about forty minutes as the students all entered the auditorium. Then I will make my grand entrance, lowering to the floor of the ball and then exit. She informed me that the lights when on allow the faint image of me in the ball to show to the participants below. Nothing revealing, just my vague image.

It will be about ten minutes until we will have to raise you up to the ceiling, so sit there and relax. Tricia has a surprise for you when you step out of the ball, so think of her as you wait to meet your loyal subjects. She leaned in and gave me a tender kiss on the cheek, and wished me luck. Of course, that got me wondering on what I needed luck for. The lights are coming on in the auditorium, a signal that the proceedings are about to begin. Sherry also gave me a kiss on the cheek; then closed the door to the disco ball.

I felt the ball start to rise, and soon I am at the top of the auditorium. I was about to take a sip of the water, then remembered the warning about fluid intake. I took a small sip and set the bottle down on the floor of the ball. There is some transparency in the walls of the ball, and I could see the people coming into the auditorium. Most were looking up at the ball, a few pointing to my image through the walls of the ball.

I thought about Tricia, my love for her, and my desire to live the rest of my life with her. It did help pass the time. The band started playing shortly after that, just music to set the mood for the evening. The noise level rose, the crowd teetering about all watching the ball above them, the lights bouncing off the mirrors on the disco ball. The band stopped playing, and Tricia took a microphone and started speaking.

“Welcome to the Turnabout Queen Ball, I am Tricia president of the Club your hostess tonight. I am extremely lucky, as President, I get to introduce the Queen tonight to all her loyal subjects. I also get the first dance with her.”

“Lorrie Richardson is a true Turnabout Queen, her caring nature, her love of people, and her service to others make her a treasure to all of us. I think the students recognized this, her unanimous vote of the student body for Queen an indicator of this. Please welcome Lorrie the Turnabout Queen.”

I heard a roar of applause and then the ball slowly drifted to the auditorium floor. Tricia opened the door and reached a hand in to help me out. The band started playing The Time of My Life, as Tricia took me in her arms and kissed me passionately. The kiss lasted forever, then when the band played the song again Tricia took me in her arms, and we started dancing. The lights in the auditorium dimmed, and a spotlight followed us as we made our way around the dance floor.

To say the moment was magical for me would be quite the understatement. I hugged her so close, tears coming from my eyes like there is no end. I don’t think my feet actually touched the floor once during the dance. It is a night I will never forget. Eventually, the song ended, she dragged me away to the restroom, my raccoon eyes needed repair. When I regained a little composure, I went back to my loyal subjects and started the dancing with those who had paid for the privilege.

Each person thanked me for gracing them with my presence, the females especially appreciative of me being the queen. Everyone told me that no better choice for Queen could be had in the school. I got kisses from everyone after the dance, the males on the cheek, and the female’s soft pecks on my lips. It truly was a night to remember.

The last dance for the evening is announced, and I looked around for who my partner is going to be. Shelly walks up and takes me in her embrace. The dance starts off slow, and she guides me around the dance floor. As the tempo picks up a little she starts to lead me around the room more vigorously; then we set off in a quick tempo. She is an excellent dancer, her hand in my back signaling where I should be going so effortlessly. The dance ends all too soon; I am almost out of breath, but so enjoyed the dance.

Then she leans me back and places an erotic kiss squarely on my lips. When she stands me back up, I am light headed, holding on to her for dear life. At that time Tricia comes in and rescues me, kissing me on the lips again with tongue. The crowd roars, then Tricia asks the band to play our song again. The music starts, and I am again in heaven as she sweeps me around the dance floor.

Now I’ve had the time of my life

No, I’ve never felt like this before

Yes I swear it’s the truth

And I owe it all to you

Cause I’ve had the time of my life

And I owe it all to you

I’ve been waiting for so long

Now I’ve finally found someone

To stand by me

We saw the writing on the wall

As we felt this magical fantasy

Now with passion in our eyes

There’s no way we could disguise it secretly

So we take each other’s hand

Cause we seem to understand the urgency

Just remember

You’re the one thing

I can’t get enough of

So I’ll tell you something

This could be love, because

I’ve had the time of my life

No I’ve never felt this way before

Yes I swear it’s the truth,

And I owe it all to you

Time Of My Life written by Franke Previte, John DeNicola, and Donald Markowitz 1987.

Towards the end of the song, Tiffany comes over the loudspeakers asking if everyone had a great time at the ball. The applause is almost deafening. Then she tells the crowd that Lorrie might be a permanent fixture around the campus, I hope everyone will make her feel welcome. Again the applause lasted longer than normal, and eventually the crowd thinned out. A lot of them came up to me, welcoming me to the female gender, most of them saying it is so obvious, wondering why I hadn’t done it earlier.

Tricia and I helped secure the auditorium, the club is responsible for the facility, then we headed home. I ask her if the evening had played out like she had envisaged in her mind, her only reply is a tender and soft kiss. We have a lot on our minds as we head to her house, the ride there in silence. I had to sit in the back seat, my dress so big that it wouldn’t fit anywhere else. At the house we made our way to the bedroom, and I removed my gown.

In a way I am sad at having to take it off, it was a perfect evening, one that will be in my memories forever. The words to our song kept playing in my mind, goose bumps and fits of emotion tugging on me as I slipped out of the dress. I found a nightie to wear, then padded back to the living room. It is three A.M. in the morning, both Tiffany and Sherry are spending the night with their current boyfriends. Tricia opened a bottle of wine, brought two wine glasses and we set on my favorite spot, a view of the nature around us through the picture window. The birds were sleeping, but my memories pictured them there, playing in the bird bath.

We sipped on the wine, just a way to relax from the evening’s activities. Tricia asked what I am thinking about. “Just life in general and of my true love. The magical evening that we shared tonight and the upcoming life we will have together.”

“That upcoming life better have me in it, or there is going to be hell to pay. I love you so much Lorrie, I want to spend the rest of my years with you, no matter what your choices are, I will be there for you.”

I leaned back into her embrace, my head resting on her bosom, my heart resting in her mind. Nothing else mattered to me, just to be with Tricia my only wish. We woke much later still laying on the couch with my head on her bosom. Such a wonderful feeling to wake to that. I could hear Tiffany in the kitchen trying to make coffee, without waking us. The birds were up, way too much racket for fifteen or so birds.

I kissed Tricia on the lips then on her nipple, then nibbled her nipple a little with my teeth and then ran for the bedroom. I almost made it, but Tricia is faster and she caught me then pushed me up against the bedroom door.

“We so have to get you real tits, that attack so unfair, but your time will come and very soon.” In between mumbles she attacked my face kissing and nibbling my lips then using her tongue in a most unladylike maneuver to probe my throat. Tiffany on the other side of the room giggling, then when we turned to look at her, smiling and heading in her direction she screamed and ran to the kitchen. Shelley poked her head out of her bedroom, saw what is going on, telling us to call her when the coffee is ready. The door closed and she went back to bed.

We were able to get some clothes on, today going to be a lay around the house type of day. Tricia made a couple of phone calls, then joined me in my viewing window, the scene in the back yard having such a calming effect on me. She asked if I had made any decisions yet, I could tell from her voice she is worried that I will return to the male image. I smiled and grabbed her hand, brought it to my lips and tenderly kissed it.

“I am going to stay Lorrie that is for sure, I might want to play the field for a while to find the perfect lover, but we can always be girlfriends.” The hit that I received almost knocked me off the love seat.

“You will do no such thing, or I will personally feed you your male organs, one small bite at a time. Do I make myself clear? Now kiss me and it better be good. I did as she asked, the kiss lasting for quite some time. No tongue, just a gentle caressing of each other’s lips that sent shivers through my body. I told her to remind me to call the salon and get rid of these imitation breasts in favor of the newer models. Tricia smiled, tomorrow at eight A.M., my treat. Now is there any of your male clothes you want to keep as a memento, or do I get rid of all of them.

I told her I didn’t want any of them, I won’t have any use for them after tomorrow. She wanted my apartment key, while I am getting the tits, she is going to move me out of the apartment. I started to say something, but her eye piercing look made me stop. You will move in with me permanently, a condition of the bet, 24/7 as a female from this moment on. I will go easy on you, your first date with a boy not until the end of the week. I looked at her, what if I fall in love with him, she just looked at me, you will date, maybe go to first base, second base if I approve of the guy, any further and you will not have to worry about being discovered as a male, you will be female in all ways I promise you that, I will see to it personally.

The next morning I made my way to the kitchen to nibble on something, Tricia had an early class, so she had already left. I found some grapes, and some left over green tea in the refrigerator, so that is breakfast. I dressed casually, figuring I will be undressed as soon as I got to the salon. I drove over there, the thought that I needed to do something about my driver’s license, occurring on the trip. The salon is packed, a line waiting at reception. My technician recognized me and had me come with her to a treatment room. I got undressed and she moved a large machine over the table I am laying on. Hanging from an arm over the table is two cups, the tech looked at my appointment card and removed those cups and added larger ones. I looked at her quizzically, but she said that the breasts needed to be in proportion to the body. With my body I needed at least a D cup to be my feminine best. They sure looked big hanging above my chest. She lowered them and sealed the cups to my chest with some flexible putty like substance. The pump started and my flesh slowly entered the cups.

Three hours later the cups were almost full, then the pump went to cycling off and on. It would suck for a while then stop, the suction still there but no additional vacuum action. After the short rest it will do it all again. She had given me a pillow, to make me more comfortable, after three hours of this I was sound asleep. When I awoke, my feet were in stirrups spread wide and she was working between my legs. I couldn’t feel anything, so I presumed something had been sprayed to make it all numb. I raised my head once, noticing that my fake vagina had been removed.

Sally told me there were upgrading my lower appliance to match the breasts in appearance. Other than a gynecological exam, I would be undetectable as anything other than a genuine female. Sex is possible, I needed to consult Tricia for what to do and how to clean myself afterward. My new equipment is semi-permanent, requiring a special solvent and some minor surgery to remove it. Consider yourself a female from now on.

That last statement sounded so good, a female from now on. So the Turnabout Queen gets her fondest wish, to be a female and live with her girlfriend soon to be her significant other for the rest of her life. With the words of our favorite song still wandering around my head I sighed, life is just about perfect right now. Oh and the clothes, that alone worth the change. I just had to make sure I get first pick of the cuter selections.

Story Complete For Now

© 2016 thru 2020 Fran Cesca Walker

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