It has been an obsession the better part of my life. I couldn’t walk past a store or a display, advertising a free giveaway without filling out the form and depositing it. It didn’t matter what they were giving away, I became a willing participant in the drawing or giveaway. As I shopped I always had a keen eye for any sign or announcement about a new prize drawing or contest. I always carried a pen with me, wanting to be prepared to fill out an entry form at the drop of a hat.
I had just dropped my wife off at the beauty salon for her weekly appointment. I would shop or maybe nibble on some snacks then come back to pick her up two hours later. The sign in the window of the salon had caught my attention and I parked the car and hurried into the salon, pen in hand. I asked the receptionist for an entry blank and she handed me two decidedly pink entry forms. I moved myself over to the waiting area and quickly filled out the forms.
There was a full page of disclosures and agreements for the contest with the entry form at the bottom of the page. I filled out the entry forms, not bothering with the legal mumbo jumbo for the contest, tearing off the entry forms, I returned them to her and then made my way back out to the car. I had noticed my wife observing my actions and I was sure that I would receive another lecture about my silly obsession later.
I decided that feeding my face is more important today and went to a local taco establishment and purchased their three pack. With lots of sauce and a diet drink I made my way back to the car and enjoyed my feast. As in any endeavor of mine I only then realized that I had not even checked to see what prize they were giving away. I think I noticed on the window sign, that it is valued at ten thousand dollars. Not sure, I don’t even remember if I filled out the forms correctly, my desire becoming so great that I often just blank out about the details.
I went back to wait for my wife to come out, always a pleasure for me. Her appointment usually transforms her into such a feminine woman, much more so that her usual Monday thru Friday existence. A lawyer by profession, her business like attire womanly, but subdued due to her work. She is quite good at her work, working for the firm for six years now, recently promoted to a partner in the firm.
My job is secondary now, she usually makes five times what I earn, not counting bonuses where as I work hard to just to make my measly earnings. I write an investment blog, available by subscription for a nominal fee. I have quite a few followers, but the fee is hardly big enough to accumulate any substantial funds for me. My advice is usually pretty good, but for some reason I have never had the balls to invest some of my money in the tips I give others.
I would much rather enter any type of contest or giveaway to earn my fortune. Ever since early childhood, the fascination has been there, every magazine, newspaper, and periodical scanned for any entry forms.
As usual my wife looked stunning when she emerged from the salon. I got out to get her door for her, one of the few times that I performed that task. I suggested dinner out tonight like usual, a Saturday tradition so that I could enjoy her beauty a little longer and be seen with such a striking female as her. She decided on a local steakhouse tonight, good food, but a bit pricier than our usual bill of fare. She had wrapped up a big case last week, one that meant a huge bonus for her. Her clients so happy at her victory, they had placed her firm on retainer, thus having her available for any future legal matters. The dollar amounts in this deal were substantial, guaranteeing her a secure future with the firm.
Sheila, always a more practical person than me, focused on her job, planning her every move as she made her way up the ladder to success. She played all the scenarios necessary to obtain success. She networked with her female friends, often transforming a friendship into a new client or referral to others that did. Although a beautiful woman, she often toned down her presentation to fit more the image for a young and upcoming lawyer as Sheila saw it a respectable member of the legal profession.
We talked over the week’s activities as usual, her experiences much more interesting than mine. Since I worked from home I had taken over a lot of the work associated with maintaining the house. We had arranged for a maid for laundry, basic cleaning, and meal preparation. She would come in twice a week to do the above chores, then I would do everything else in between. The meals were prepared and all I had to do was place them in the oven or skillet to finish.
It solved several problems for me, I am essentially the wife, but avoided the more mundane duties of one. It left me time for my blog, and for the research needed to write one on financial matters. I usually dressed casual around the house, just jeans and a t-shirt. We had very few friends, her too busy and me too shy to meet or talk with any of our neighbors. We did go to her firm’s parties, more of a client thank you than any friends. She spent little time with me there, her job necessitating that she meet and talk with all of her present clients. I made myself scarce at these soirees, meeting up with her when it became time to leave.
She told me that she had seen me eagerly filling out the entry forms at the salon, but asked if I had looked at the rules for entering the contest at the salon. That stopped all other thought on my part, what rules is she talking about? She smiled telling me that if I do win the contest I might be a little shocked at what might happen. I tried to ask her about the rules, but as normal she moved on to other subjects, as she decided that particular subject is not to be discussed again.
The dinner is wonderful, I am glad she is paying for this one, the bill would wipe out a week’s worth of earnings at my blog. I drove us home, hoping to convince her to play a little that night. When she emerged from the bathroom later, I was smiling. She is wearing one of her sexiest nighties, a sure sign of a wonderful evening. She surprised me with her take control attitude and I am soon naked and on the bed as she climbs on top of me. I lay there as she ravishes me both physically and mentally. My nipples are sore from her activities and she rides me unmercifully till I manage to satisfy her. The majority of the time she has my hands flat on the bed, holding me still as she works her magic on me.
She eventually rolls off, I lay there panting and out of breath. I ask her where that came from, she smiled and told me anything for my girl. I looked at her with a puzzled expression, but she never said any more. We settled down to a night of cuddling, wrapped in each other’s arms till we eventually nodded off. I did dream that night, of my love, of being her girl, then as the sun makes its way into the sky another morning dawns and all dreams have to come to an end.
The next couple of weeks were rather mundane, the same thing on repeat it seems. I did notice at her salon the sign about the contest is down, I presume the contest now over. She is late several nights a week now, she has three huge cases coming up in court and is busy preparing for them. I miss her dearly, sitting in our front room, waiting for my love to return home. I always greet her at the door, like a dutiful wife according to her.
Over the next few days she ends up winning all of her cases, her firm very proud of her accomplishments. She takes a day or two for herself, her presence in the house causing my wifely chores to suffer. I can’t think, or concentrate any with her around. The next day I make my once a week trip to the grocery store, armed with the shopping list that our maid has compiled. I try and take my time to shop, needing the time away from wife to get some of my composure back.
I am like a little kid in a candy store, wanting this treat and that treat, but knowing that too much candy is not good for me. I made a promise to myself to be attentive to her, but to carry on with life and not get distracted, at least that is the plan.
When I arrive back home she helps me put up the groceries, a task that she has never shared in before. After we finish she takes my hand and leads me into the living room. She sits with me on the couch and tells me that I had received a phone call while I was at the store. It is her salon informing me that I had won their giveaway. I smiled that is the first time I had won anything major in all of my years of contest entries.
She wrote down some of the pertinent facts for me, but I have an appointment with the salon owner tomorrow at ten A.M. for the rest of the details. Since she has a lot of comp time extra she has decided to take some of it, an extended vacation to our getaway in Northern Arizona perfect for her and her new spouse after her total body makeover. I gave her a quizzical look, what new spouse, what body makeover? Surely if that is what I won she should be able to take advantage of the free services.
All Sheila said to me is that I really should have read the rules before entering. “They are quite clear and inescapable. Your name is on the winning entry and the prize has to be given to that individual. It is not transferable to anyone else and the rules plainly say the signed entrant agrees to participate in the body makeover, their pictures of the body makeover to be used for advertising for the salon. The entrant’s signature allowing the salon to use the pictures as they feel appropriate with no recourse for the entrant. Since you are the entrant you will have to go through the makeover.” My mind quickly figuring maybe a spa treatment, maybe a facial, it can’t be that bad.
Then I think about the ten-thousand dollar amount on the makeover, boy that is expensive for some facial creams and a sauna. Sheila smiles, wait until tomorrow Francine will explain everything to you, then you will realize the situation you are in. As your unofficial lawyer I suggest you go through the makeover with no resentment or comments. The rules are plain, stated clearly on the entry page and will be easily upheld in any court of law.
Now let’s plan our trip, I can’t wait to see you in skirts and heels. I look warily at her, she has got to be kidding me, surely just pulling my leg to get the best of me. I drop the subject, if there is more bad news I just as soon not know about it. This is enough to worry about as it is. We usually use the getaway, a cabin in the mountains just a short distance from Flagstaff for skiing in the winter. Since this is the middle of September, skiing is out, but the scenery there is awesome and the nearby towns offer some great shopping, a treat that I am sure Sheila will take advantage of.
The next morning is surreal in a way, I am excited to win something for a change, but now dread the meeting with the salon owner. Sheila has painted a pretty dreary future, I try to not think about it as I get dressed, but in the back of my mind the thoughts are still there. The trip to the salon is anti-climactic, nothing earth shattering happens and I got to the salon in plenty of time for the appointment. I go in and tell the receptionist I am here to see Francine, my appointment is for ten A.M. I sit down in the reception area and soon a gorgeous female comes out and takes me back to her office. She introduces herself and then seats me in front of her desk as she goes back to her chair.
“I talked with Sheila yesterday and she explained a little about your obsession with entering contests. I explained to your wife the reasons for the rules as they are written, the disclosure statement making it crystal clear as to how the prize is handled. It is obvious that you didn’t take the time to read it, so that leaves me in a quandary as to what to do.”
“For the next hour I need to know a lot more about you and your relationship with your wife. We take pride in not performing services on people because they don’t understand what it entails. Now start off with you history, if you don’t mind, I need to get to know you a little better and your situation in life.” I am a little puzzled at her need to know more about me, but defer to her request for more information. It will put off any discussion on the prize for later, since I suddenly have some concerns about it now.
I told her about my childhood, my schooling and what interests I had as a teenager. I told her how Sheila and I met, me a freshman college student majoring in finance, her already a third year student in their law program. We met at a dance, one of the few dances either of us attended as college students. I have always been basically shy, even the first time we met Sheila had to do all the work. She did pry my phone number from me that evening and over the next few years we became somewhat of a couple. She always instigated the meetings or dates, me just going along for the ride. I felt comfortable around her and could actually talk with her as an equal.
I always yielded to her decisions on any matters, she is the confident one, knowing what she wanted and planning how to obtain it. She had a flock of female friends, all of them just happy to be around her like me. I was eventually allowed into that group, another BFF according to Sheila. Looking back I was treated like a female to her friends, both in conversation and also in our relationships. Sheila asked me to marry her when she returned from taking her bar exams. Of course, I accepted I would have to be an idiot to refuse such a beautiful woman who had just became a lawyer with a bright future.
Married life agreed with me, my idea of a business to start having great initial success, then not having to work the nine to five ordeal making me quite happy. Sheila had quite a bit of family money, she bought us a house soon after we were married, as soon as she knew where she would be working. The firm she paired up with an instant success for her, as she took several doubtful cases and won them with quite a bit of flair. They were very pleased and she quickly graduated to more important cases. She made steady progress in her career to where she is today.
My blog did fairly well for several years until everybody jumped on the bandwagon. I managed to hold all of my customers but rapid growth is now out with all the new competition on the scene. Since I am at home all the time I volunteered to take on a lot of the tasks a wife might do, Sheila’s schedule will never allow her time to do so. I liked the feeling that I am contributing more to the marriage, even if I am mainly performing tasks that a female usually does.
Francine listened fairly closely to all that I had said, making notes every once in a while. She never interrupted, till I had finished. She asked what I saw myself doing in a few years, what future I dreamed of having.
“I would like to have children, I came from a loving larger family and a lot of fond memories were from that childhood. I know it will not happen for a few years, Sheila’s career too important for her to stop and have children. Still I wish for that experience. My blog and customers should remain fairly stable over the years, unless I make some stupid mistakes in my advice. I would like to be included more with Sheila’s friends, I know that’s not possible since we have so very little in common.”
Francine smiled and asked if she might make a few suggestions to changes in my life. She would like me to have an open mind with regards to her suggestions and wait until she is through presenting her ideas before I respond. She is not a psychiatrist or psychologist, just a keen observer of human nature.
I agreed, she took a couple of minutes to think what she is going to say then laid it all out for me. The body makeover will essentially give you a body of a young female. She was quiet for a minute to see if I was going to interrupt, but I had managed to catch myself before any words came out. “Your life is pretty much that of a female as far as duties go, so there is no conflict there. Your relationship with your wife is as the submissive partner, that role usually performed by a female. The only part you are not engaged in is the dressing as a female, the makeover making that part now a necessity. I know this is an over simplification of the situation, but in basic terms that is how I see it.”
“The contest was setup to allow us to show that a normal male can be changed into a voluptuous female with ease. The intent with all the disclosures was to get someone that wanted the change to occur, not someone who did not even know what the prize entailed. We do not lie in our business dealings, your name was drawn and you will be the one receiving the prize. The photos of your transformations will be discreet, never the female image you will soon possess to be connected with your male name, just your picture.”
“Take a few minute to seriously think this through, then let me know what you think.” I will get us a drink and will be back in a few minutes. Wow, too much information and how in the hell do I make such a decision. The words voluptuous female bouncing around in my head. I know I am not a very masculine representative of the male gender, but I am also not very feminine. Before I could come to any decision Francine is back and hands me a drink, diet of course, then asks my thoughts.
“I know you are fighting this, most males would do the same that is why we made the rules the way we did, and insisted on signatures stating that you realized what you are signing up for. We put a lot of money in this promotion, that part I can possibly overlook, but Sheila tells me that you are fanatic with regards to contests, entering everything you can find, but winning nothing. Well, now you have won something special, maybe you need to experience the body makeover to find out how lucky you have been.”
I asked her what the makeover entailed and she passed me the pink entry form with all of the treatments listed on the top of the form. I blushed red, then my eyes scanned the list. At the bottom of the list is a summation of how I will be when the makeover is completed. An attractive female, with the proper assets to live and work as the female sex, the skills to keep the illusion perfect, and the mannerisms appropriate for a young female.
She waited for my response, I felt like I was awaiting a sentence to death row. She smiled and asked me why I never took my own financial advice and invested some of my money. Now how that topic became part of this conversation we may never know. Thinking about it, I presume Sheila is the one that divulged that info, it bugged Sheila too that I wouldn’t stick my neck out even if I thought it was a sure thing. I think Francine figured out that I would never decide to accept the body makeover on my own, making decisions just not in my repertoire.
Francine suggested a little game that she and I would play in the next day or two. “Take five-thousand dollars and invest it in your own advice from the day before yesterday. In two days, if the investment gains in value, you will accept the body makeover willingly.” I desperately tried to remember what my financial advice was the day before yesterday, but my mind was so clouded with eventual scenarios, voluptuous females, and what Sheila is going to say about this I couldn’t remember any details of my advice, posted on my own blog.
I told Francine that I didn’t have that kind of money to splurge on an investment, so she handed me a credit card already loaded with a five thousand dollar balance. She pushed a copy of my blog for that day and handed me the phone. “If you don’t have a broker you can use mine.” I called my broker, told him who I was, he was quiet for a minute, apparently trying to connect the voice to my person. Truthfully, I had only used him once before several years ago.
I glanced at the copy of the blog post, then shuddered. That particular post didn’t impress me much. I had not researched it as well as I should have, and posted the advice anyway because it was getting time to start dinner. Francine is still staring at me, so I gulped some excess saliva down my throat, and placed the order for the investment. I got the verification code and hung up. I put my head in my hands and a few tears slipped down my cheek.
I told Francine that I would pay her back for the investment money and rose to go. She told me to sit back down, and let her tell me how it is going to be. “Your advice is always sound, I have been following your blog for years, making investments quite often when I thought the advice exceptionally good. It has never been wrong, but yet you will not act on your own advice and research. Maybe you need this makeover more than you realize.”
“Go home and tell Sheila what you are going to do, your first appointment is tomorrow at seven A.M., then relax tonight. Have a nice dinner, cuddle your wife, maybe a little more, since your makeover does includes a cute adorable pussy. Just remember that sex either way is very enjoyable.”
I gave her a puzzled look, we don’t even know how the investment is going to turn out yet. She smiled and told me she invested twenty thousand dollars on that advice yesterday, she now has eighty-one thousand dollars as of an hour ago.
“Just face it, you are going to have a new outlook on life tomorrow and now, have enough money for a totally new wardrobe.” She told me to be prompt, and by tomorrow evening, a young female named Kim will be ready for a vacation with her S.O.
I dragged myself out of the salon, into my car and drove home. All the time thinking what am I going to tell Sheila. I am sure she didn’t marry me so that I could turn into a female later in life, but that is essentially what she is getting. I did remember her saying that she couldn’t wait to see me in heels and a skirt. By the time I entered the house, I was a bundle of nerves, my stomach was doing cartwheels, and I couldn’t even think straight. Maybe Sheila has went shopping and I would be spared the ordeal awaiting me. I didn’t see her car in the drive, could luck be on my side for once.
I made it to the kitchen, before she ambushed me. When she came up behind me I nearly jumped out of my skin. Breathing did slowly resume, my face and hands sweaty, cold, and red. She grabbed my hand and led me to the couch. She set me down and then sat on my lap, I am sure to prevent any escape. She went right for the jugular,” When does your makeover start.” I stuttered for quite a bit, nothing but gibberish coming from my mouth, but I finally got out the word tomorrow.
She seemed real happy, good then we can head to the mountains the next morning. I looked at her, surely she is joking, bad enough to have to go through the makeover but to be subjected to more exposure simply humiliating. She kissed me all over the face, ran her tongue over the same areas, while twisting her butt on my manhood. She even pinched me on my nipples, evoking quite a squeal from me.
We did eventually eat dinner, some takeout Sheila had picked up on her way home, although I don’t remember what it was. She kept me on pins and needles all evening, she dragged me with her all over the house. I guess to make sure I didn’t escape from her. Actually the thought never entered my mind. I am still trying to figure out why I am agreeing to all of this. I should have put my foot down refusing any part in this escapade. She packed a small suitcase for herself, telling me that my clothes came with the makeover. When she finally allowed me into bed I just laid there staring at the ceiling.
Sheila did take Francine’s advice cuddling me most of the night. I had to sneak out of her arms several times to go to the bathroom, the cuddling something that has never happened before in our married life. I kind of liked it, to be in someone’s loving embrace a new and pleasant experience. When I returned to bed, she was quick to grab a hold of me, maybe she was looking forward to this. For my part I was still trying to think of a way out of this.
I figured my best option is to never show up at the salon, maybe hide somewhere till Sheila calms down. I eventually got some sleep, maybe an hour or two. At seven the next morning I was rudely pushed from my warm bed and dragged to the shower. She got in with me, while I was trying to tend to her she washed me quickly then ejected me from the shower. A few minutes later she was right behind me. I am dried off, then sprinkled with powder and then handed a pair of her sweats. I pointed to the lack of underwear, so she handed me a tiny thong panty for me to wear, giggling as I looked at it. I did manage to get it up my legs, but the little triangle of cloth had too much to cover so it was basically useless. The sweats were a pale green, not a masculine color, but I guess better than nothing at all.
Somehow she got dressed in the midst of all of this and I was being led out the door a few minutes later. My hope to avoid the salon up in flames, since she is driving me to the salon I had no way to escape either now or later.
She dropped me at the door, then waited for me to enter before she pulled away. I was met by a tech as I entered and then taken to one of the private treatment rooms. As we entered the room there were several flashes, another lady is taking pictures of me, my bright red face prominent in every one of them. I was slowly separated from my sweats, then laid on a table. Another photo, but my genital region not in this picture. Another tech joined Phoebe, her name is Janey, and they quickly coated my front side with a thick whitish cream. It is left on, as they switched to working on my nails. Phoebe working on my toenails and Janey on my fingernails.
By the time the cream had to be removed, my toenails were a rosy pink, and my fingernails extended past my fingers by at least a half inch. Phoebe removed the cream, my body hair with it, while Janey finished putting the nail polish on my new talons. Both my feet and my fingers received a twenty minute treatment under UV lights, according to the girls, to make the polish and extensions almost permanent.
I was then turned over and my back side handled in the same way. What skin that was exposed on the front of my body felt so different. The breeze from the air conditioner quite often giving me goose pimples. Both ladies were busy preparing something on the side counter while my remaining body hair is melting away. Janey removed the last of the cream, now my whole body is totally hairless. Even Junior had found himself with his camouflage missing.
I feel so different without what little hair I had on my body, the look of my body changing drastically. Never a masculine body, now it looked quite a bit like Sheila’s. Janey pulled out some stirrups at the end of the table, easing my feet into them, then strapping them to the metal arms.
I have heard Sheila describe her time in stirrups at her Ob/Gyn, the vulnerable feeling she felt with her legs spread wide and unable to block access to her vagina. For that reason she had switched to a female doctor, having a male examine her like that just too much to bear. Now her husband strapped in awaiting his transformation to a female. I felt the same as Sheila, vulnerable and unable to do anything about it.
They made sure my feet were spread wide, I felt like an inch more and my body would split right down the middle. When Janey first touched my penis, I jerked away, or at least tried to. The restraints held and soon she was gluing my apparatus to my body, deep between my legs.
The realistic covering that she glued over this, had a profound effect on me. I glanced down at two lips with a cute little slit between them, realizing that my life as a male is over for a while, maybe longer than I intended. It was fashioned from silicone, very realistic looking and felt almost like real skin. Sheila and I took advantage of my apparatus from time to time, but neither of us seemed to require sex to be able to function as a part of society. I dreaded what my shift to the female sex might do to our relationship now.
She fussed, rearranging things several times before she had it where she wanted. Then she glued the thin edges down to my skin, any idea that it is a fake vagina fading away with the glue. She used some makeup in some areas blending the different shades of my skin and the fake vagina until it appeared I was born with it.
To my consternation the vagina is good for several months, peeing is handled just like I was a female, and sex is possible as long as I stayed with the less endowed males. Janey is having a hard time keeping her wits, trying to stop her giggling as she tells me these things. I really doubt I will let any male shove his tool into my new vagina. In fact I am sure of it. I wonder though if this will affect Sheila, we hadn’t used it often, but it did find some use from time to time, now that is glued away and not a possibility, that possibly changes a lot of things.
The two techs were aware of my signing up for anything, now caught in this prize winning scenario, they were having a little fun with me. After winning this prize I think I am cured from entering any more contests, if I can live through this, I think I will retire from the contest games. Again lost in my thoughts I was kind of not all here.
Then when Phoebe wheeled in the impressive machine and the dangling cups are attached to my chest, I decided this is too much. The timing of me fainting and the machine being turned on is unreal. I am not sure if the sight of the machine caused it or the sucking of my skin into the cups. Either way I am out like a light. Somebody laid a wet moist towel over my eyes, I had regained consciousness, but decided to lay there with my eyes closed. What I can’t see will not be able to affect me.
Later I found out that the forms for the breasts were glued to my body, the hoses attached and the pump started. When the machine is turned on my eyes shot open, the washcloth not allowing me to see anything. I was going to ask that it be removed, but with a vagina I would look funny without matching breasts. I let out a deep breath, another change, another step towards being a female. While the machine was doing its thing, my ears were pierced, two earrings in each ear. Then I felt someone yanking out my eyebrows. I opened my eyes, the washcloth now gone, but every time I tried to look at the cups on my chest she plucked several more hairs from my eyebrows. After five minutes of this I gave up, thin eyebrows and breasts are soon to be mine, accept it and hope for the best.
I thought back to when I signed up for the contest, trying to picture in my mind the prize and how I would spend all that money. That visualization and the end result so far apart. All of this is probably worth the stated prize amount, but to me, experiencing the procedures, first hand makes the prize seem not as important now as when I signed up.
Some forms were fastened around my lower legs, my foot now in a pointed down position, the forms were secured tightly and then an injection of a liquid is inserted through a small hole in the front of each form. I didn’t think too much about it, the leg didn’t start hurting, there is no pain, just a tightening feeling in the back of my legs. For the next hour I was allowed to just lay there, the machine working on completing its job of trying to pull breasts out of my chest.
Then silence as the machine is turned off, the hoses are detached from the cups, but the cups are left on. Two more injections right through the nipple to each breast. The needle had been slid through the hole that the hoses attached to, only a short stab of pain, then nothing. I am helped up, then into one of their styling chairs. It is laid back and my hair is shampooed and conditioned. I almost made a humming noise, the feeling of my hair being massaged so good. Following that a foul smelling paste is applied and a portable dryer is moved over my head.
Warm air starts blowing over my head, the smell of the paste being warmed not getting any better. After twenty minutes of that, the dryer is turned off, my chair is leaned back again and my hair is rinsed with warm water to remove the rest of the paste. Sitting upright again, my hair is wound on some curlers, of varying sizes and then the dryer again. I had noticed the color change, but wouldn’t let my brain acknowledge it, a dark blonde now my hair color, the brown color it used to be no longer. It changed my looks, the lighter color making my face seem more visible, almost framed like in a picture.
Now seeing the lighter color wrapped around the curlers, I had to face the fact, I am looking a lot like a female now, and they are not done with me yet. Looking at the clock on the wall, they still have seven hours to totally eliminate the masculine Kim. The image in the mirror in front of me, clearly shows that they are almost there. The breasts, although still in the cups, an obvious indicator of my new female gender. As was revealed by Phoebe, the cups would remain for a day or two, eventually dissolving and leaving two perfect size D cup breasts. OMG, I remember being told by my wife that she was only a C cup. I guess I will be the well-endowed one in the family now.
Makeup next, the last few signs of a male now disappearing. The highly arched eyebrows make my forehead look more feminine just getting rid of the bushy eyebrows made a world of difference. A liberal application of foundation and concealer gave my face an oval appearance, the perfect shape for a feminine look. They used rouge to highlight my cheeks, that adding to my now decidedly female looks. Then several liberal coats of mascara made my eye lashes quite apparent. All of this finished off with a bright pink lipstick on my lips after they were outlined with a darker pink lip liner.
The curlers were removed and my curls were brushed out, the hair style framing my face, with longer curls dangling from the back of my head. As I moved my head to get a better look at my new appearance, the sensations of my long eye lashes as I tried to get use to their length and the long curls brushing against my neck sent my mind into over load.
So who shows up at that exact moment, yep you guessed right Sheila is walking down the aisle heading straight for me. The smile on her face says it all, I got what I deserved, and now she had a sexy lover to play with. As she gets closer she helps me up from the styling chair and pulls me into a fierce hug. Her lips find mine and I am kissed like there is no tomorrow. She leans into the kiss, her lips pushing against mine hard, her tongue looking for entry anywhere it might find it. Her hands move up to where she is holding my head firmly in front of her, so that I can not pull away. I try to pull back, needing some additional air to maintain life. My heart is beating wildly and I am trying to suck in a breath or two as she keeps up her attack on my lips.
After an eternity she breaks off the attack, walks up front to settle up if needed and then returns with two other ladies carrying clothes for me. I am dressed in a too brief dress over a bra and a scandalous pair of panties. High heels for my feet and she drags me from the salon. I am helped into her car, seeing several garment bags and a suitcase in the back seat. She heads away from our home, I presume our cabin her destination. She looks my way often, not wasting any chance to appraise my looks. Each stoplight an excuse for another look. I sigh again for the hundredth time today, winning that prize something wonderful, but also causing a drastic change in me. I look in the visor mirror again, the feminine Kim here to stay, since the image is one sexy female. I doubt Sheila will ever let me return to my old image, I wonder if I will want to now. I do know that I have entered my last contest just hoping to live with the results from this one.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker