Ginger arrived home a little later than normal, excited because she had three new clients this afternoon as a result of the new promotion that the salon is running. She had sat down in one of the wing back chairs in the living room when she got home, so she could remove her heels. She is a stylist at the Turnabout Gurl Salon in town and has been with them since they opened six years ago. I love her uniform, the five inch heels and the retro hairdo that all of the stylists have. Her short lacy party dress especially capable of keeping my attention.
She likes working there, lots of interesting people to meet and perform her magic on and it is truly magic. Quite often a prize winner at beauty conventions after she graduated from cosmetology school, her skills are seldom matched by any of the other stylists. She specializes in hair styling, but since she holds a master cosmetologist’s license, she could do it all, even teaching.
“May I ask my darling husband-wife what is on the menu for dinner?”
“We have spaghetti with meatballs, broccoli, and a wilted lettuce-spinach salad. Dessert is rice pudding with fresh peaches in a cream sauce. I have a bottle of wine chilled for the madam, and carrot sticks with a delicious parmesan ranch dressing for nibbles.”
Since she had the better job, it had been decided a long time ago that I would do most of the housework and cooking. My job had flexible hours, and the fact that I could work from home pretty much cinched the deal. Thus our different domestic arrangement, where I did all the housework and cooking. Although most males would despise my actions, I am relatively happy with the arrangement. Since Ginger never liked anything connected with keeping a home, she adores the pampering she receives as chief breadwinner and female head of the household.
My job consisted of transcribing notes from corporate meetings. Some people call it data entry, others call it being a typist, but entering the data into a word processing program is the end result. I was trained in marketing, holding a master’s degree in fact. With the advent and advancement of the internet, there are less and less jobs available for a person with my skills.
In some of the larger population areas there are still a few specialty companies dealing with the marketing of a product, but, by and large, a client with a little internet savvy, could sit in front of a keyboard in China and instantaneously change the marketing or price of an item in the U.S. in minutes. Since China manufactures most of what we buy and use, that is what a lot of those companies are doing to promote their product. One good thing did occur because of my studies, during college I honed my skills in typing and could type eighty to ninety words per minute with no mistakes. Since most of my present work is from tape recordings, I can do the work in a very short time.
In the end, it is a secretary’s job, but I can work the hours I want, and need not have to worry about getting the boss coffee. I have several regular customers, ones that I have done work for some time. I get a tape or shorthand notes and usually have three or four days to get all the work transcribed. Since the companies I work for are larger businesses, payment is not a problem, a fact that is not shared by the smaller operations. I send the typed pages by mail. The word document goes electronically and for those, I have payment in my bank account the following business day.
I make a fair amount of money at my work, but Ginger in a good week can clear twice what I make, not including her tips. I had some regular customers that gave me a modest base wage, and some weeks when the workload is extremely heavy I come real close to matching her salary.
I never take her for granted, always doing little extra things for her like foot massages, keeping up with her hand washables, and most of the grocery and clothing shopping. As a male I did observe and learn that a happy female is much easier to live with, hence my goal of keeping Ginger content and satisfied. Only a couple of my friends knows of the arrangement we share, both female, and both jealous of Ginger and her situation. I seem to have only female friends, never was able to connect with males even in school.
A week ago she had brought a flyer home about the Ten Days of Femininity promotion that the salon is running. Their intention is to get a more deeply committed customer base. Originally the salon’s intention was to solely cater to the male that wished to explore their feminine side. Any beauty service the salon offers are available to either a female or male, no strings attached. The males are still in the majority, sixty-five percent of their business, but the female side is gaining and has been the most loyal.
The steady gain in female customers occurred when the females saw what the stylists were accomplishing with the male of the species, deciding they wanted those talents used to make them prettier. The promotion is devised to get a customer to experience more than just a manicure, a makeover, or a new hairstyle. Ten days of total immersion in the world of femininity, guaranteed to soothe the soul while bringing out the feminine female in anyone. The promotion is for both genders, but they hoped the male gender would take the most advantage of it.
Ginger had told me that the response is so good that Francine, the owner of the salon, is adding two more stylists and another manicurist to the staff at this location. Even though I performed a housewife’s role in life, I couldn’t see why a male or even a female would want to become extra girly, to become a slave to femininity in effect. I felt a woman should dress like one, but not necessarily embrace sculptured nails, lacy clothes, stiletto heels, and a full palette of makeup.
I did enjoy all of those traits on Ginger though, a feast for the eyes. I always made a point to meet Ginger at the door when she came home from a day at work. Part to welcome her, part to gaze at my gorgeous wife, dressed seductively to drive me mad.
The Turnabout Gurl Salon’s male customers have always been in a class by themselves. They look normal, but their love of all things feminine is what makes them hard to understand. I know it is in every person’s makeup to be independent, to be different, and to not like the same things as their neighbor. To dress in the clothes of the opposite sex, wear makeup, and have their hair styled is just too far from the center line for me. I don’t have a problem with them doing it; I just don’t understand it.
Ginger and I have had this discussion many times in the last few months, but nothing has been resolved or cleared up. I still don’t understand the obsession for the male to become feminine and dainty. Then look at me, doing all the housework and cooking, essentially a stay at home wife, I should be talking about others.
Tonight the conversation moved back to the flyer as we ate the dinner I had prepared. She was telling me about several of her customers that are taking advantage of the special prices that are available when you signed up for the total package. I mentioned that the flyer maybe would be beneficial to a female. “All the individual steps influencing her look and making her beautiful and feeling pretty. Take the same male customer, and most of the treatments would be a waste of time. You can’t use feminizing treatments on a male and make him more feminine than his base persona.”
Ginger raised her eyebrow at that gem stumbling from my mouth, but let it pass. I should have let the conversation die a natural death, but have a mouth, must use it seemed to beckon me. I spouted the words that would come to haunt me. “There was no way for the salon to make a male feminine, and then have him bask in that femininity.”
Well, she didn’t let that one pass. “Can I go ahead and sign you up for the promotion, that way you can show me and the salon how wrong we are?”
The second most stupid thing that came from my mouth rolled from my lips so easily. “I will bet you that the salon cannot make a female out of me that adores his femininity.”
I told her they were good, but a male has a certain fundamental masculinity that can’t be camouflaged. Keep in mind these words were spoken by a stay at home househusband that took care of the house and cooked the meals. She was deep in thought, and I mistakenly thought she is trying to figure a way out of the bet, but turns out she is contemplating the terms of the wager instead.
With a big smile. “I will take that bet. If you turned out to be a Girly Gurl after the ten-day program, I want you to quit your job and be a full-time housewife and mother. However, if you are essentially unchanged after the treatments, I will give in to your wish to start a family and have the kids.”
That has been a wish of mine for several years. Wow, the stakes are high but well worth taking a chance. I knew that they couldn’t turn me into a girly gurl, so I was confident in my acceptance of the wager.
A sudden thought of who is going to judge the bet popped up. Ginger surprised me by suggesting my Mother since mom would never see that her son is anything other than a male, I agreed. It all happened too quickly though, I should have seen it coming but a male with his sights on a long wished for prize is usually blind to the real things going on around him.
To make it official, we jotted down our bet and terms thereof and then signed and dated the agreement. Ginger promptly went to the phone and called the salon. I listened as she made an appointment for the next morning, shocked that she is moving so fast. We had just signed on the bet and now I had an appointment for my first treatment tomorrow, I am presuming that Ginger is fairly confident in her wager, since she seems interested in pushing things right along.
When she had finished that call, she dialed my mother. I was frantically trying to get her attention keeping her from divulging all to my mom, but she laid it all out, two sentences into the conversation. I am floored this is not what I had in mind, but too late to do much about it now. From the sound of laughter in the background, mom must think it is pretty funny.
Mom and I have always been pretty close. Since Dad is away on business the majority of the time, and I am home being the housewife we go out often shopping, and usually have lunch at the same time. She has often encouraged me to get a better job, then my present one, but leaves the subject alone most of the time. I think some of it might have to do with my housewife duties. Mom thinks I am a sweetheart for doing this, and acknowledges that I am very good at it, but maybe not a proper job or tasks for a regular male. But then a regular male would never be caught dead doing household chores or cooking all the meals.
She and my wife are very close since Ginger’s mother died a few years back from cervical cancer. My Mom just welcomed her into the family, another daughter to fuss over and pester for grandchildren. They often spent Sundays shopping and eating out, typical mother-daughter interaction to pass the time away. Sundays are their day of being together since I have my manly duties that I perform on that day.
I am always excluded from these Sunday excursions since that is my day to keep the outside of the house ship shape. Mow the lawn, trim and prune the shrubs, and usually washing one if not both of our cars. I preferred it this way, the quietness for one, and the fact that all things sweaty and nasty could be handled in one day leaving the rest of the week for other mundane pursuits. My mode of dress on Sunday is usually short shorts and a tank top. With my ponytail I am far from a macho male, not girly, but also not masculine, more of an androgynous person.
I wondered if Ginger might try and influence Mom to win the bet. It is a possibility since they chum around more than in the past. Still I was a handsome man, one that could not be transformed into a girly gurl in such a short time span. I did get a flicker of realization that maybe I am becoming a little too confident for my own good. Alas, it is only a flicker. Tomorrow we will see if I can handle the onslaught.
While Ginger is using the internet, I am staring at some show on the TV. I have no idea what it is about, my mind on what might happen tomorrow at the salon. I wonder if Ginger is going to do all of my treatments, she is qualified, but I think I would rather have someone else do the actual procedures. For one thing, she would be having way too much fun if she got to do them all herself. I am sure she will delight in my squirming and humiliation.
Tuesday Day One
I arrived at the salon, checked in with Julia at the reception desk and took a seat in their waiting area. She is looking through her appointment book, trying to find my name on the list, but having no luck. She asked me if the appointment is listed under another name, then asked me what service I want to have performed today. With a blush coming to my cheeks, I responded that this is my first appointment in the Ten Days of Femininity promotion. Her smile said a lot about what she is thinking, a male for his first day into the world of femininity.
She found a name listed for the 8:30 time slot, then with a smile she told me that the appointment is under the name of Victoria. Ginger is getting into this with gusto transforming my male name of Victor to Victoria. I don’t think just changing my name will get her far, though. Julia took a phone call, then mouthed to me that she would take care of me in a minute.
The phone call took a little longer, as a customer wanted to know how soon she could get an appointment for a permanent. Julia had to check to see who could handle the customer. After she had found a stylist, the call was transferred so she could answer any questions about price and time involved. Julia took my hand and led me to a room at the back of the salon.
I had been to the salon several times to pick up Ginger, but to be here for the services made all the décor and smells more prominent. It feels like I am in a harem, a lone single male surrounded by beautiful females. Even the male customers this morning were looking very unmanly. The salon smelled feminine, as smells of carnation, roses, stocks, and sweet pea filled the air and caressed the senses. Several times the flowery scent seemed to infiltrate my mind, caressing my senses to new levels of attention.
The Turnabout Gurl Salon oozed femininity, along with the flowery smell, the soft pastel colors of the walls, drapes, and pictures came together to form an atmosphere of tranquil bliss. Everywhere you looked the mirrors reflected images that reinforced the feminine aura. The framed portraits on the wall of their accomplishments made me very uncomfortable. If this is actual photos of their male customers, I might be in big trouble.
After entering the room, Julia told me to disrobe leaving my clothes on a chair in the corner. I was waiting to see if she is going to leave me alone while I disrobed, but she is not leaving. A stern look a minute later convinced me that I needed to comply. All of the technicians were dressed in outfits reminiscent of the fifties, including the big hair look, there is something about them that signifies a no-nonsense approach to life and Julia apparently is aware of that strength.
Julia had a pot of something that smelled hot, almost like a candle that has burned down, that she is stirring. She is preparing cloth strips to use; the strips are two inches wide by twelve inches long, of course in pink to match the décor of the place. I had a feeling that the preparations intended for me might imply some drastic changes for my body.
Whoever designed the place, is a stickler for detail, not leaving anything to chance, the stylist’s badges, for example, that are worn on the left breast in pink with deep red ink used in the printing. An image of pouty lips in the background with the logo emblazoned in front of it. Their logo, simply, if it is possible we will do it.
I had removed all my clothes except for my shorts, never a fan of boxers, shorts were just more comfortable to wear. Julia is still busy setting up, there not being a chair in the room where I could sit, and I am awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with my arms folded across my chest. She finished her preparations and told me to get up on the table after you remove your shorts. That said with a little more authority, as she looked at me waiting for me to comply.
She smiled as I removed the offending item, asking me if I was Ginger’s significant other. I did admit to being her S.O., blushing knowing full well that Julia probably knew about the circumstances leading me to be here. Julia is all business as she checked over the areas that would need treatment. The minute she rubbed the hair on my leg, I had a pretty good idea of what is to transpire, my body hair apparently being the target of today’s treatment.
She did a small test strip on my thigh, only a couple of inches to see how well that I would be able to tolerate the waxing. It hurt as she ripped the initial cloth strip from my leg, the first being the hardest to handle. Julia offered me several choices to help with the pain, but after hearing of the methods, I decided that the insert for the mouth that I could bite down would be the best, plus it would whiten my teeth as well, that said with a twinkle of her eye. With that inserted in my mouth, I am finally ready to proceed, not really, but one way or the other I am sure that the result will be the removal of my body hair.
I asked what areas are to be waxed, the words coming out more like someone mumbling; I guess she is also good at understanding what her customers are saying with something in their mouth. Her answer though surprised me, as she indicated that everything other than the hair on top of my head is to go.
Okay, that is not what I was expecting, but since I had declined to learn any details about the Ten Days of Femininity I pretty much had to grin and bear it. When this all came up, and Ginger had asked me if I wanted details, I declined choosing to go into it blindly. If I knew what is coming, I would fret and worry to no avail, since my commitment to this whole program is real, it wouldn’t make any difference in the end.
Still, losing all my body hair on day one of the promotion, probably speaks volume of what will most likely happen later. I honestly didn’t worry before today, a little dread of what is coming maybe, but after finding out what the first day involved, maybe some rethinking might be necessary. Julia is adding a cloth strip to some freshly applied warm wax, brought all other thought to a halt. Then after rubbing it into the wax, that sharp tug bringing the wax and hair off in a most alarming way.
She had completed my legs and half way across my chest before the pain seemed to stabilize; you know the mind can only handle so much before it starts shutting down operations. Cloth after cloth removed with body hair, a definite casualty of the treatment. All this time, Julia has been having a conversation with me, although I have no idea what she has said or my replies, I might even have unwittingly volunteered for more torture, for all I know.
Julia did have a caring streak hid deep down in her psyche, although she is very reluctant to let its presence be known. She massaged some cream deep into the affected areas, the skin with the lack of hair had become super sensitive, goose pimples popping up everywhere through the reddened skin. I almost caught myself purring, the feeling so delightful, even though I knew she hadn’t completed the treatment.
No area is left undone, arms, legs, chest, back, neck, even my hands and the top of my feet, although it is a mystery while males seem to sprout hair from every follicle on their body, Julia made sure that at least temporarily it is denied for me. The only area that stressed my ability to cope is my groin. I did ask why it is a target; surely no one is going to judge me on whether my pubic hair is there or not or in the proper shape. My significant other did have hers in a cute heart shape, but males tend not to notice the shape, just where it surrounds.
The question never is answered, the usual female habit of not acknowledging questions that are not pertinent to the overall purpose of the charade. My guess there is something more going on besides the promotion, but I am not to be privy to any of the details apparently.
For the main event today I am requested to move my body down further, so my feet are in some stirrups at the end of the table. Julia, reassuring me that she could perform a gynecological exam at the same time for no additional charge. I didn’t appreciate her humor at the moment, especially with my feet in the stirrups and my butt half off the table. Julia did ask me for permission to put straps on my legs to secure them to the stirrups, but the smile she sported belied the attempt at concern.
As she strapped me in, applied the wax, then the cloth strips rubbed in the wax and feeling a sympathy for pregnant women, the last of my body hair is pulled from its comfortable follicles. In most instances somebody playing in the vicinity of my genitals leaves me trying to remain calm and not erect, today and maybe into the future this would not be a problem, since there is absolutely no activity present anywhere. Not even, when she rubbed some cream on the area, a favorite of my member, the response is nil. He has shriveled up to nothing, retracting into my body as much as possible. Probably scared to show his face.
She did move on to my eyebrows, before she turned in her whip and boots, making short work of them as she ripped them all out. I knew Ginger had delicate arches above her eyes, but apparently Julia has other ideas about eyebrows. The same cream massaged into the stinging skin, as tears tried to escape my puffy eyes. I am listening as Julia tells me that the cream they use did prevent hair regrowth permanently after repeated uses, a fact that would have been appreciated earlier in the day. Then how that would affect me, totally hairless and soon to be feminine and I was worried about being able to grow body hair in the future seems ridiculous. I would receive two follow-up appointments for hair removal, free of charge, did register briefly before my mind just gave up and shut down.
I became aware of Ginger standing over me, peering into my eyes, asking if I was now back in the land of the living. I tried to nod, feeling the different sensations all over my body, looking at the clothing, that wasn’t on my body a few minutes ago, to see what is different. I find myself dressed in a top and pants, but only after a closer examination did I see that they were not my clothes, at least, not the ones that I wore here to the salon.
The top is silk or something silky like the pants, both so soft and comfy, not something I had ever worn before. The feeling, though, is a big difference, the materials of my new clothes seeming to stimulate every square inch of my hairless body. Think of getting goose pimples on top of goose pimples, and that is how I felt, a few warning bells going off with regards to my mental functions as everything is starting to cycle down for another shutdown. Way too many feelings and sensations that my mind could not handle.
Once again, lucid thoughts started through my mind’s circuits, definitely slower than normal, but at least, there were some activity. Sometimes when you wake after a more than realistic dream, the fuzziness seems to take forever to slowly clear up. That is what is happening in my mind, although the new sensations from all parts of my body are prominent, just too much sensory information at once. Ginger tried again to reach through the fog and gain a foothold in my thoughts, this time, I can discern what she is saying. I was helped up to a sitting position then swung around where my feet were hanging over the edge of the table.
She had penciled in some eyebrows for me so that feature of my face would have representation. When I was shown my image in a mirror, the thin pencil arch, way above my eyes is there but looked lost when compared with the rest of my face. The brows did scream female, my face still had a small masculine edge to it, but it is small, very small.
I tried to say something to Ginger about this whole situation, but she had another customer and had to leave. With the roles reversed, I would have insisted that she go on with the entire promotion, but since she is in charge of my involvement in the promotion I am begging for a little sympathy. If, after one day, the effects are this noticeable, ten days should indeed produce the feminine female promised in the ad. With Ginger otherwise occupied, I sighed, no reprieve would be coming, apparently the promotion will continue, and the femininity will take its hold on me.
The time is now eleven-thirty, Julia has proclaimed me done for today, but confirming my continuing appointments every day at eight-thirty except Sunday for the duration of the program. I asked if I owed anything for the services, but she said that the full promotion has been paid for in advance, presumably by Ginger.
Ginger saw me getting ready to leave and came to give me a kiss before I left. When she finished with the kiss, I literally had to sit back down to regain my breath, although I did run my tongue around my mouth checking to see if any teeth are missing. She asked me to be a good wife and have dinner ready when she gets home, her arrival expected shortly after five. She giggled all the way back to her station; she is having too much fun with this promotion and my involvement.
Julia is nearby when Ginger finishes with the kiss, and I had promptly sat down on the chair. I am afraid that there will be no last minute parole for me, a smile on Julia’s face confirming that fact. Given a purse, with my wallet and keys inside, Julia tells me I am ready to go. One look at my pants seeing that the purse is necessary since where the pockets normally are, there is none.
I remembered my clothes and asked about them. Julia mentioning to me they were not worthy of my body, and so far out of fashion that no records remained of their manufacture. Bottom line, they threw them out. At this rate, my limited wardrobe might not last long. I departed the salon a lot lighter, feeling quite different from when I arrived. I drove home, although awareness of my surroundings is doubtful as I made the trek.
Now what to fix for dinner. We ate most of the spaghetti last night, so I had to come up with something new. I didn’t remember anything in the refrigerator or freezer so decided to grocery shop a little. That thought lasted all of a few seconds when I remembered my looks and the change of clothes. I looked in the rear-view mirror to see how bad it is, surprising myself as an image of a young woman stared back at me.
My hair is in a ponytail, and although my face lacked any makeup, the eyebrows had greatly enhanced my femininity. I figured that if I hurried through the store, my chance of discovery is minimal. I jotted a list of the things that I wanted, then looked in the purse that Julie had given me to carry my wallet. I usually used a debit card, but with the way, I am dressed my driver’s license would be of no help if the cashier requested identification. I decided to use the ATM since I didn’t have to use my driver’s license for that. Then use the cash from the ATM to pay for my groceries.
Happy with my plan, I got out of the car and headed into the store. First stop was the ATM and then on to my shopping. I picked up my items fairly quickly, including a rotisserie chicken to use for tonight’s supper. I steered my cart to the checkouts, finding a lane with no customers and placed my items on the conveyor. The cashier ran my purchases, then asked if I wanted paper or plastic. Oops, forgot the voice thing, in as discreet and soft voice that I could muster I told her plastic.
She smiled at me, but took my money and handed me my change. I was not sure if she had figured out that I was a male but suspected she might have made the connection. Off to the side I noticed a woman coming towards me, I instantly recognized her, and I am sure she had done the same with me. Susan is a next door neighbor, and one of my female friends. We often shop together, and when I don’t have work we share cups of coffee at each other’s house. Now, what am I going to tell her about this?
“Hi, Susan what are you doing here.” She normally shops Wednesday, so I was not expecting to see her here. She had the biggest shit faced grin on her as she approached. No comment yet as she stared at me taking in my appearance and clothes.
“Coffee and some talk at Becky’s?” is her statement with the biggest smile peeking from behind her sunglasses. Becky’s is a coffee shop just down the street from the grocery store. I could see the giggle just below the surface, but that is all she said. I nodded my assent, and we went to our cars.
Pushing the cart to my car, I am suddenly aware of a bag boy running to help me with my groceries. Almost out of breath he placed my bags in the back seat, and I promptly left. The store had always taken pride in their customer service, and I am sure that an unattended female shopping with no help present had sent the bag boy into a panic. The fact that I am perceived to be that unattended female a blow to my ego.
It is three blocks to Becky’s, a small diner/coffee shop where we often had coffee when we were out. Susan had already parked and is waiting for me to get out of my car. All of this time I kept going over various stories to explain my appearance, but decided on the truth, since I am sure she will now be keeping an eye on me for further changes. We made our way to a back table, and our waitress headed our way with two cups of coffee.
Susan sipped her coffee, waiting for me to spill the beans. I finally started by telling her the bet that Ginger and I had made. Several times the giggling became contagious, with me joining in. Looking at it later, I obviously had a brain lapse when I agreed to the bet. Susan listened as I told her of today’s treatments, then wanted to know what some of the other treatments were going to be. When I told her I don’t know, she put both of her hands over mine and told me that Ginger just has to dye your hair blonde. I picked up on the reference immediately; she is probably right, there can’t be many with a lower I.Q. than me.
We talked some more after Susan made me promise to call every day to let her know my progress. Her last comment surprised me; she has always felt uncomfortable around me as a male, her main fear that Ginger would be jealous of our relationship since male/female friendships are rare. She feels that she can now relax since our relationship has migrated to a lesbian affair. As she said that she got up from the table laughing all the way to the cashier. Shaking my head I followed her out to the cars, hugs are exchanged, and I left for home.
The drive home found me thinking about what Susan had said. I need to ask Ginger about my female friends, I don’t think she is jealous of them, but hadn’t thought about it that way. I parked in the garage and carried the shopping into the kitchen. I slipped the chicken into the oven to keep it warm and then threw together a salad to accompany it. I had bought a Dutch Apple Pie, a favorite of Gingers for dessert.
Tomorrow I will have to figure out something else to be able to handle dinner as I am being made more feminine. One day in and the complications start adding up, ones that I had never envisioned occurring. Why I didn’t see any of this as I opened my mouth I will never know. The low IQ is a definite reality now.
Dinner went off without a hitch, as we both eagerly consumed the meal. I did ask Ginger about my female friends, she just shrugged and told me that I needn’t ever worry about her being jealous, for she has the best spouse there is, loving, caring and faithful. Besides, if you ever cheat on me, I will cut your thingy off and feed it to you. There were too many giggles at that statement; I doubted that she would do such a thing. Well, I am not so sure now.
After cleaning up, I headed to my office, as I had some work to do so that I could meet tomorrow’s deadline. I finished at midnight since there is quite a bit of work to transcribe. The one report alone is seventy-five pages long. I finally made it to bed, but my newly sensitive skin kept me awake for several hours.
When I awoke later in the evening to use the bathroom, I found Ginger cuddled to my back with her hands on my breasts, although my breasts are unlike hers, the new sensations as she moved her hands over my chest is awesome. Sleep did finally consume me again after I returned from peeing, at least for a brief period of time.
Wednesday Day Two
Getting up at seven for my appointment is harder than usual, reasons being, one the time I managed to get to sleep last night, and two I am just not used to being awake and civil before nine A.M. In most cases being civil has the more relevance. In the realm of being a morning person, my name is listed in the column of persons to be aware of at all costs. Today is no different, irritable, not able to think, on edge, worried about what is coming and if it would have as much effect on me as yesterday. Originally I didn’t want to know what is coming so that I would not worry, but after yesterday, the changes are so profound, that I feared what might be on tap for today.
Ginger had already left for work after sneaking another passionate kiss from me, then vanishing before I could say anything or catch her to retaliate. As she is heading out the bedroom door, she told me to wear another one of my funky male outfits, as there would be a different set of clothes for me to wear home. I am looking in the bedroom closet at my limited male apparel, trying to find something comfortable but maybe something I could live without if it disappeared.
As a male I am not a clothes horse, just satisfied for the bare minimum to maintain my look and appearance. I think I only owned six pairs of pants, two pairs of shorts, and about a dozen shirts, several sleeveless for yard work and all the rest short sleeve. The sports coat I had not worn for some time since it is mainly for interviews or church. I don’t remember wearing it in the last six months. Oh, I forgot to mention that I owned a dress shirt and two ties if that makes any difference in my perception.
My favorite yellow sweatshirt is among the missing. I presumed that it was another causality of the bet, never to see the light of day, maybe, in this case, it is for the better since it is old and well worn, almost tattered in a couple of spots. I settled for a blue cable knit sweater to wear with a light tan pair of Dockers. I never thought to look to see if any other favorites or essentials in my male wardrobe are missing in action.
I laid them on the bed and went to the drawer where my underwear had been put, deciding to wear a pair that I am not fond of so that when they vanished there would be no great loss. Imagine my surprise when I opened the drawer and found it empty, and then upon closer scrutiny a note telling me to borrow a pair of her panties one drawer up. I opened her drawer, looking to see what is available.
The pair I wore home yesterday is a microfiber creation in a bikini cut, bright blue and trimmed with more lace then logically possible to add to the panties. They had felt so good as I twisted and turned to savor the feelings that found their way to my mind. In fact, several times last night Ginger had told me to sit still, but after watching me for a while, she saw what I was doing. A short while later she asked if I am enjoying the eroticism of female clothes. I nodded, with one more little squirm to savor the feeling just one last time. But that was last night, and today is another totally different situation.
I found a light pink bikini style, again loaded with lace, the white lace making for a two tone effect. As I pulled them up to my crotch, they felt delicious. Two days, and I am a lingerie fanatic, obsessed with how they feel and look. I did, however, manage to get the Dockers and sweater on, actually a big letdown from the feelings of yesterday’s clothes.
I hope they give me something silkier than these Dockers to wear later. I left off the socks, better to feel the sensations of the clothes, and then shoved my feet into an old pair of sneakers, although the ladies flats that were given me to wear yesterday did have its merits. I grabbed my purse, a bottle of water and headed for the garage. Yesterday on the way home the purse was a necessary evil since my clothes are female, but today the purse didn’t fit at all since I am in male mode. Later, it most likely will be needed.
That last statement subject to misconception. I had on male clothes, but my look is still leaning to the female side. Those eyebrows that are now missing really changing the look of my face. Looking in the bathroom mirror, a little lipstick and I could easily pass as a female. On my way out, a glance at the hall clock showed that I had about fifteen minutes to spare.
I slid into the driver’s seat, started the car, and then backed out, content to finally be on my way to the salon. I entered the salon at eight-fifteen to be greeted by a smiling Ginger. I know that she is enjoying this way more than she should, but obviously happy that it is happening to me and secretly enjoying the stress that I am enduring. I am told to take a seat, and Julia would be with me in a few minutes. Ginger obviously happy, whatever is on the schedule for Wednesday day 2, I am sure to dislike.
Sure enough, three minutes later Julia came to get me, excited to see me again. I was led to a different room, and upon entering found it very sparse in the furniture department. Two chairs, along the wall and numerous ropes and pulleys hanging from the ceiling and a small table at the back of the room with a fairly large motor on it with two attached cables leading to the center of the room. The corset in a box on one of the counters looked suspicious. It is ecru in color and looked very formidable in its construction. For one thing it was so long, at least, eighteen inches in length, but the worst part of it seemed to be its stiffness. I did back up several steps placing a little more distance between me and the corset. I doubt the additional distance will save me, but you can always hope.
Sure enough, it is intended for me, and Julia is the one to see that the corset and I become one. The usual request for removing all my clothes is followed by a close inspection of my body; I started to point out that she had ripped out all my hair yesterday, and there is no way that any hair would be able to show its presence above my skin line in the near future. Again I had tried to leave the panties on, but soon she is removing them, telling me that all means just that. She lowered two of the ropes from the ceiling with rings attached and advised me to grab hold of them and hang on.
Ginger took that as a sign to show up, and as Julia is fiddling with the rings, Ginger decided to check to see if I could breathe properly. Somehow she had honed her skills in the kissing department lately to a professional level. As I am trying to hang on, get my breath as Ginger is attacking my mouth, and stay balanced, I heard two clicks as something is locked around my wrists. I tried to let go and found my wrist secured to the ring I had been holding, and I could not get loose.
A few moments later Julia had lowered my hands to shoulder level, and I saw my hands were locked to the rings with a set of padded handcuffs. I opened my mouth to protest, but another kiss smothered that effort. As she broke the kiss, she whispered in my ear that I should be a good girl, so Julia can get you into this corset for the day. With a Cheshire Cat grin, she waltzed out and back to her work. Julia leaned over and secured me to a pole coming up from the middle of the floor. That will hold your body still as the machine tightens the laces.
Next, the machine on the wall had its two ropes brought over to me and the ends slipped around my neck. Now I am worried, I mumbled to Julia that I would gladly consent to be laced into the corset, she needn’t threaten me to get her way. She glanced at me, then broke into laughter over my predicament and thoughts, but did not remove the ropes from my neck.
The corset is next, her unfolding the corset and sliding it around my waist, then hooking up the front busk. It was snug around me, maybe this won’t be too bad. Walking in front of me, she adjusted how it fit my hairless body a couple of times until she is happy with the placement. Behind me again, she started on the laces pulling out the slack, checking every so often to make sure the corset is in the proper place. One last time in front of me, checking the busk then reached into the cups of the corset to grab hold of some of my flesh and pull sharply up. This action left some of my superfluous skin and tissue in the cups of the corset, albeit like small breasts.
Moving back to the laces of the corset she took out the rest of the slack, then hooked ends of the laces to the cables that had been around my neck, starting the machine so that it could tighten the laces on the corset. Thankfully she removed my neck from the cables before she did so. I just stood there as all of this is happening, fascinated in a way, but soon aware that I am the target of all of this and soon to be the one gasping for breath.
I squeezed in a word before Julia told me that yes, it is necessary, and two I needed to be quiet, or it will become necessary to gag me so that I would not disturb the other customers. I let out a big sigh, really hoping that I would wake up, and this was all a dream. The sigh didn’t help as the machine took that opportunity to start its tightening of the laces. Julia gave me a smile and then pushed the button to raise my hands over my head again, a maneuver that stretched my body, causing the machine to pull out the extra slack that is now evident.
Every once in a while, the machine would go into a rest cycle for fifteen or twenty minutes before it resumed its ministrations. The hoist twice lifted my hands a little higher until I could barely touch my toes to the floor. The machine removed the slack, thus slimming my figure some more. Finally, around eleven Julia told me that I would be lowered for a few moments to let blood back into my arms and hands, then given something to drink. The hoist lowered me very slowly until my feet were flat on the floor.
I immediately noticed the tightness increase within the corset; I guess all of that stretched out tissue was trying to find somewhere to fit into, the corset allowing none of that. Among other things I am feeling very faint, breathing is strained, and my mind is getting fuzzy. Julia squirted some water into my mouth, the feeling of it sliding down my throat a welcome relief. Then the sudden discomfort as the blood returning to my hands and arms kicked in, leaving me feeling just about as bad as one person could feel.
I protested as she hit the button to raise my arms again, but with them firmly attached to the rings my only choice is to go with the flow, and that is up. It did feel good for a minute as my body stretched out again, letting all that tissue find a temporary refuge. The machine started tightening again making that relief short-lived. Thirty minutes elapsed, when after the machine grabbed that last bit of slackness and carried it away. Julia pronounced the task complete, the two edges of the corset finally meeting at the center of my back.
In celebration of that fact, she showed me two locks that she is going to use to keep the corset on me; I saw no celebration in any of this other than the fact that the machine was not attached to my body any longer. I did hear the locks as she clicked them shut securing the corset to my body. She and Ginger are the only ones with keys, a necessary fact until the corset has done its work. I was told to be proud, that five inches had been trimmed off my waist, making my figure quite feminine in appearance.
The real shock is when I glanced down at my new slimmer figure and noticed that the cups on the corset are now overflowing with tissue. Just where that tissue came from a mystery. A male just does not grow breasts in a couple of hours, well at least this male doesn’t. Julia had moved a mirror into the room, and when I looked at my reflection, I also noticed hips that I never had before, along with the newly formed breasts.
Julia is cracking up as my eyes darted from my hips to my breasts, trying to make sense out of this. I managed to get how out of my mouth, as I am pointing to my new assets. Julia calmly told me that the corset pushed fat or loose tissue either to the breasts or the hips since that is the only option for the fat. Hence my new breasts and hips, definitely nice enough for a female to be proud of having. I am not sure that they are something I would want to be proud of, but I guess I am. Along with my new slimmer waist. The reflection in the mirror screamed female from any angle, so now Victoria is an entity in real life, not just a fantasy.
Ginger came in a while later, checking on my progress, and gasped out loud. Scanned with eager eyes taking in my new enhancements with a professional scrutiny not matched by many. Unfortunately, I was still standing up since that is the one and the only position that offered any comfort. I tried sitting once I was released, but my torso screamed in protest at any attempt to bend at the waist. I was wondering how I would get home tonight since I could not sit to drive my car, and I am certainly not going to walk the three miles to the house.
After the corset session, I am given clothes to wear, an almost see through blouse in ecru to match my corset and a light brown skirt. A skirt, the second day and apparently it is their intention that I am going to wear this skirt home. Looking in the mirror, the skirt and blouse looked good on my new and enhanced figure, but a certain part of me is trying to process the new clothing item while suffering the onslaught of feelings and sensations relayed to my mind. The air flow around my legs a new and unpleasant feeling to get used to for me.
Since it is early, Julia suggested that I hang around the salon until the corset relented in its grip on me some. It isn’t that the corset would relax, it was that my flab decided to be happy where it ended up. So I quietly spent the next two hours wandering around the salon watching the stylists perform their miracles. It is amazing how a new hairstyle or a little makeup can change the appearance of a person from the run of the mill to something special and exotic.
The jiggling of the flabby tissue in the cups of the corset is one of those new sensations. The constant movement of my new boobs as I walked around is beginning to arouse feelings in that area. The rubbing of the nipples on the corset cup stimulating me when there shouldn’t be any feeling at all. The motion and tingles are quite distracting to me.
One of their customers, in particular, drew my attention. He is similar in build and height to me but had the most gorgeous head of hair that I had seen in a long time. The stylist is wrapping her (definitely doesn’t look like a male) hair in curlers and placed under a dryer. After her hair is dry, the curlers are removed, and the curls are drawn out a little then sprayed with hair spray. The hairstyle converted that male into one hot babe, a far cry from her initial appearance. I wonder if that style is in my future, only time will tell.
Since I couldn’t sit, the standing and walking did help the corset to settle, allowing me to sit finally for a brief interval. I decided that I probably could now handle the drive home, telling Ginger that I am on my way. The real challenge is not being able to cope with the restrictions of the corset, but of my feminine clothing. The choices seemed to scream girl, feminine girl, but an awareness of having no other choice came bounding into my mind and I resolved to handle it the best that I could.
Another passionate kiss, and I headed off. It is an effort to get my body in the car, with a hiatus of at least ten minutes as I attempted to regain my breath. It took me five minutes to get my skirt situated under me. I drove much slower but did make my destination at a little after four in the afternoon. I had decided to order a pizza for tonight, not wanting to attempt to cook something with the corset squeezing the life out of me. I doubted if I would be eating much, the corset restricting my waist and stomach severally.
I forgot how I am dressed, and the delivery man got an eyeful but thanked me for the order. I am referred to in the feminine gender in all his interactions with me, the lack of eyebrows seeming to convince him of my femininity, but I am sure that the short skirt and transparent blouse showing off the corset is the real determining factor. Since his eyes never left my boobs, I tend to think that the corset isn’t the center of his interest, but the flesh within my corset cups the more likely target.
Susan called me since she had not heard from me yet, wanting to know what was done to me today. I told her about the corset; she wanted to see me in it, but her hubby is taking her out to dinner tonight. I told her not to worry, the corset secured with locks, and I am sure that it will be a staple for quite some time. It is hard to ignore her giggling, I am sure she is trying to keep it under control, but losing the battle big time.
Ginger arrived a little past six tonight and grabbed a piece of pizza and mauled me while I tried to get her to listen to reason. Her hands are all over me, as she rubbed my new slender waist but wandered to my breasts inevitably. I was trying to convince her that it is not necessary to convert me to a female, that I realize my mistake, feminization of my body an easy task. Of course, she isn’t listening and after a couple of pieces of pizza, she decided that it is time to go to bed. It is early, but the corset is still very uncomfortable, and I am hoping that lying flat would help the discomfort.
She helped me to undress, with everything left on the floor. With the corset still locked onto my body, she deemed me ready for her activity. She then spent the next hour kissing and fondling everything of mine that she could. I gave up with the begging, with her this enamored with my new body she would not listen to any attempts to stop the promotion. I reconciled myself to eight more days of femininity treatments; I just hope that there is a little piece of my masculine self, left after the last treatment.
Thursday Day Three
Getting up at an ungodly hour so that I can get dressed to make my Thursday 8:30 appointment is crazy, I shiver when I think how it will be in a few days when a lot more of the changes are present. This is only day 3 of the promotion. The biggest problem last night was that damn corset, squeezing the life out of me 24/7 it took forever to be finally able to rest without struggling for breath. Ginger had told me that the body would adjust to it gradually, allowing me greater freedom of movement and breathing, but for most of the night, I just figured she was lying to me to keep down my protests.
Somewhere around three A.M., my body finally gave up and accepted the fact that it would not get out of this contraption for the foreseeable future. Since the corset did far more than reduce my waist, people saw a female figure, and not a male anymore. The pushed up tissue to my chest and hips making that female figure real. Add into that image no eyebrows; the result is that I am mistaken as a woman several times as I made my way to the salon that morning.
Several times last night and a couple of times this morning I caught myself with my hands on my breasts. The tissue gathered together in mounds under the corset cups looked quite appealing. I remembered playing with Ginger’s breasts quite often and the pleasure that those items gave Ginger and me. So far I have been able to catch myself before things get carried away, the tightness of the cups to my chest the best deterrent. I could get a hand in between the cup and my chest, but couldn’t do much with it after it is there.
Time is slipping by way too fast, and I quickly dressed in another male outfit although the material of the shirt was stretched to the limit as it attempted to cover my breasts. I knew I looked ridiculous in it, but since I was told again today to wear male clothes to the salon that is what I wore. The pants were a real effort to get them over my expanded hips, as I remembered Ginger struggling into some of her pants, her desire for that painted on look a driving force. My pants definitely looked painted on today, and it took quite a struggle to get them on, I just needed some clothing to hide all the curves and bumps of the body.
Finally clothed, I slipped on a pair of sneakers, the last pair of casual shoes in my male wardrobe. It was still an effort to sit in the car, but not nearly as bad as last night. I was several minutes late, as traffic this morning is terrible. Ginger greeted me at the reception desk, and I received a passionate kiss. The kisses are one of the few things that helped offset the feminine things that are happening to me. I had made the stupid bet, however, and although it is something that I hoped to be able to avoid or postpone, things were looking like I would have to go through with the entire promotion.
If I hadn’t seen the promotion from Ginger’s Salon, I might not have made an ass of myself and find myself in this predicament. Funny what hindsight shows when looked at with an objective viewpoint. The fact that how one dresses affects the personality of that individual. Change the figure; the clothing choices change to fit the figure. If the promotion did as the salon intended, I would be changed significantly over the next ten days. The light had come on, there were still a few functioning brain cells in my mind, but sadly too late to do me any good.
Today, I would have somebody new since a very statuesque young woman is making her way to the reception area. Michelle introduces herself, a five-foot-eleven-inch blonde, who reaches for my hand and leads me to another private room at the back of the salon. The difference in height between her regal height and my lowly existence some five inches. Michelle is quite attractive, but in a unique way, no doubt a woman her demeanor feminine, her movements so effortless, her accessories, namely jewelry, are awesome. I know that word is over-used these days, but there are no words sufficient to describe the aura that surrounds Michelle.
She, like the others had to have me remove all my clothes, the only item of clothing that I was allowed to retain is the panties. Since I am in them as much as Ginger these days, I looked at them as mine and not hers. I still received chills as I pulled a fresh pair up my legs this morning. The good news that she would help remove my corset for a while, although I was pre-warned that Julia would cinch me into it again as soon as she finished with me.
It was such a relief to be out of the corset for a few moments, as I ran my hands up and down the skin rubbing a little life back into it. As I stared down at my body without the corset, I noticed the tissue still congregated in the breast area just not shaped like a normal breast. The same went for the hip area, with the corresponding reduction of my waist still apparent. All of this after only one day, imagine what ten days of the corset could accomplish.
Michelle did offer me a silk robe that came to mid-thigh for me to slip on. She look closely at my hands, my ears, and apparently my toes. That part is very unusual; I knew of very little feminine done to toes except nail polish.
Then she pulls out of a drawer, a large tray of jewelry. In this particular tray, all the items were gold or more likely gold plated since real gold jewelry would be quite expensive. She reached for one of my hands, laying it palm down on her table. She looked through the tray selecting several rings to try on, apparently she already had in mind what I needed. She found two that were the right size; it is apparent that I am to receive an engagement ring plus a wedding band. Ginger and I had never decided on a ring for me, we looked but since we didn’t find something appropriate we never purchased one for me.
The engagement ring features a single stone, diamond or cubic zirconia, with matching small rubies around the single stone. The gold filigree design behind the stones, very flattering to the grouping. The matching wedding band has the same filigree design etched into the gold finish with a ruby red color in the deepest part of the grooves.
Then she looked through the selections and pulled out a bracelet for me to try on. It was a fitted bracelet with diamonds and rubies in the design. It was loose, but only slightly as the bracelet adorned my wrist. It would not slip off unless the catch is released.
So far, I could live with this, the rings and the bracelet changing the appearance of my arm. It no longer looked like a male arm, with the jewelry now it is a ladies feminine arm. Michelle quickly moved over to the other arm, adding another ring that is similar in design but suitably smaller and delicate.
After another browse through the tray, she found a necklace on a gorgeous chain that she slipped around my neck. The chain is fairly long, placing the diamond and ruby pendant in the center of my new cleavage. The gold chain a link design that added to the visual appeal of the necklace.
I thought she was going to go to my ears next, but instead, she placed one of my feet in her lap and browsed through the tray again. She found and removed two rings slipping one of them on my second toe. Although the rings were fairly blah, the small stones of diamond and ruby made them stand out. It fitted snugly about half way between the end of my toe and the base. She then did the same to the other foot, but as I was removing my foot she told me to wait, and she attached an anklet around my leg. The whole effect is amazing as those three small pieces of jewelry changed the appearance of my legs and feet.
I knew the ears were next since there were not any places left that women wear jewelry on or in. Once more I am wrong as she leaned my chair back helping me to lean back. She massaged my belly button a little and then used several applications of a very strong disinfectant to cleanse the area thoroughly. She found a diamond and ruby dangling belly ring and held it up to see how it would look.
Apparently satisfied with the look, she reached for a funny looking gun that is plugged into the wall. She used a pair of pliers to grip my skin so that what she wanted to pierce was directly in front of the gun. The gun is parallel to my skin and would be shooting through the gathered skin, not towards my body. A brief flash of light, the target skin getting slightly warm and then she removed the pliers and inserted the belly ring right through the new hole she had put there.
It turns out the gun she used is a laser, and it made the hole and sealed the skin around the hole so it would not get infected. Michelle told me not to worry the hole would not close up if I left the belly ring out. Another permanent step to femininity although it would not be seen by many people unless I took up belly dancing. Then she sat my chair back to the upright position and turned some so she could work on my ears. I asked how many holes I was to receive, knowing that I really had no choice in the matter. Femininity demanded a certain number of ear piercings apparently, and I was going to receive them.
It turned out that three piercings per ear were the current style for a feminine female to sport these days. The laser as it heated up and pierced each hole made quick work of the task, and as she finished each ear, she added the earrings. Fashion dictated a long dangly earring and two studs per ear. One of the studs was slightly larger than the other, a diamond, in this case, the smaller stud a ruby, and the long dangly earring a collection of looped gold chains with diamonds and rubies sprinkled along the chain. The overall effect very feminine and the long dangly chains a real distraction as they touched my ears and neck.
After completing both ears, she appraised the overall effect, then untied my robe letting the robe swing free. With the robe out of the way, she reached for a nipple holding it between her fingers. It took me a minute to formulate that this might be the next target. I raised my hands to cover my breasts, but Michelle just smiled. Back into the tray and after several minutes, she retrieved two gold and ruby discs, similar in size to a fifty cent piece with a center hole. I pleaded with her for a little mercy, since very few people will see the jewelry to appreciate the femininity of it. Time for Ginger to show up, of course, she would be here for this, but not to save me from the belly ring, or the other jewelry.
Michelle shows Ginger her accomplishments so far and asks about the nipple piercings. Ginger looks me over from head to toe, stopping to play with my belly ring. She looked directly into my eyes and smiles asking what the promo flyer said about nipple rings. I let out the biggest sigh, knowing that I am going to have two more piercings today before this is over. I never did answer her, since it isn’t necessary, she knew what the flier stated, but wanted me to seal my own fate.
Michelle took some cream rubbing it into my nipples, then a long forceps to grab my nipple in its jaw. When she let go of the handle of the forceps, it remained clamped at the base of my nipple. The engorged and erect nipple on display for her to pierce. The laser aimed at a spot just ahead of the base of the nipple and triggered. With the forceps still attached she attached the rounder as she slipped the straight barbell through the piercing and the rounder.
With the hole near the base of the nipple, this kept the majority of the nipple in the rounder with just the tip protruding a little. She moved a finger over the tip of the nipple, and I swooned with the pleasure that pulsated through my body. Michelle announced that is it all for today, but since we finished early, the salon is going to give me a free no charge service for being such a good customer.
A free service, more likely a way to complete the feminization faster and make me lose the bet. The idea that I still thought I could win the bet, a quite fanciful idea. It turns out I am going to get a free facial and mask as my treat. Good, I thought twenty minutes and I will be out of here before they can think of anything else. Well, it didn’t quite work out like that. Glenda, my technician for the facial, a thirty-something female with a body of a teenager had other ideas. Very confident in herself, and in her abilities, she had me seated and is working on my face within minutes.
The facial started with a cleansing solution, then worked into my skin with a rotating brush. It did feel wonderful, but the process took almost fifteen minutes. I felt my skin afterward and am surprised at how soft it felt. My lack of facial hair didn’t occur to me at that moment, but soon I realized that there is no stubble on my face when I touch it.
My beard, if light facial hair could be called that, is not very masculine, in fact, I had let it grow now for three days to show a little defiance to the feminization treatments. Now it is missing, like some of my other attributes. I reached my hand up to my face again to make sure that I had not dreamed the fact that I had no beard. Nope still smooth as a baby’s ass, although I had never felt a baby’s rear end to see if that colloquialism is true.
After that, the deep cleansing mask is applied turning chalky white as it dried on my face. I received the obligatory two cucumber slices over my eyes and allowed to relax. I was awoken sometime later as Glenda peeled the mask off my face. She did show me the dirt particles embedded in the mask that had come from my pores.
Glenda was a true perfectionist as everything she did to me is by the book. After the mask is removed, she examined me and told me that she would have to apply another since there is still some embedded dirt in my pores. Another mask is applied, this one an apricot deep cleaning mask and then again the cucumber slices and drying time. I felt this mask tighten on my skin as it is squeezing each and every pore to extract anything not supposed to be there.
I managed to stay awake this time, though when I tried to stifle a yawn, I found out that I could hardly move my mouth, the mask having an unrelenting hold on my skin. Glenda had to use a warm washcloth to remove the mask, but the cool air on my face afterward felt wonderful. Another cleansing wash with the rotary brush and my skin is ready for the moisturizer.
She smoothed a fairly thick layer on my face and used the rotary brush with a very soft head to massage into my skin. Soon I am awoken again, this time, a victim of the sensations of having my face massaged by the brush.
Glenda proclaimed me done, and Michelle came back into the room with clothes for me to wear. Today I was given a bra to wear with instructions on how to keep the new breast jewelry centered in the cup. The nipple jewelry did make itself known, the exposed nipple rubbing against the fabric of the bra causing a sensation that threatened to overwhelm me. Then Julie and the dreaded corset appeared, although this time it was pale pink in color and had no breast cups, thus the need for a bra. I wondered how they were going to get me back into it without the machine. Between Julie and Michelle, they managed to get me back into the corset in short order without much fuss.
I was amazed but told that as long as the hours out of the corset were minimal, the body does not quickly expand back to its original shape. A week of the corset training and my body should retain its female shape with ease. Michelle did apply a cloth bag over my naval piercing to keep the corset from catching on the pin or dangling rings.
The clothes for that evening were to be a blouse in pink and a burgundy mini skirt, and I do stress the mini bit. It wasn’t more than two or three inches longer than the bottom of my panties. As I turned to look into the mirror, I kept pulling on the bottom of the skirt to get it to cover more, but to no avail. The narrow waist of the corset allowed the skirt to fasten, but there was no slack to allow it to be pulled down.
I immediately thought of the struggle I would have tonight to get anything done around Ginger. Since I have started these treatments, she has become a mad woman with regards to me. The kissing alone has made me a nervous wreck; I love the kissing, but the feeling of my body melting into her embrace has made me lose all concentration. The bad thing is I have nothing set aside for dinner, and I really don’t want to go grocery shopping like this. In this outfit, I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle the situation.
I sat there in the lobby trying desperately to figure how to handle dinner and the period after that, commonly thought of as Ginger’s revenge by yours truly. I guess someone of the divine nature pitied me since Ginger came to the front and asked if I wanted to go out to dinner tonight. I accepted way too quickly, figuring that handled the need for groceries, but forgot the fact that I would have to go out as a woman, much less my attire. The mini-skirt my first thought.
Not just any female but with an hourglass figure with prominent breasts and hips, and jewelry to boot. Ginger smiled that I got you little smile, then suggested that I allow her to put some makeup on me to make my presentation a little more realistic.
The makeup is minimal, mascara and lipstick, then a little eyebrow pencil to add that arch to the brow, and I am ready. The restaurant is a diner specializing in a hundred ways to make a hamburger, and the menu had every one of them listed. I chose the guacamole burger with a side order of onion rings, a meal that I would have easily put away in the past with room for dessert, but the best I could do was half of the burger and most of the onion rings. The corset is to blame; a feminine figure is in my destiny no matter what I eat.
The meal did handle the craving that I had for something more substantial to eat. The conversation at the diner is again about how I am coping with the treatments. I had already lost the bet in my mind, the sensations that my changed body are sending my brain making it useless. More often than not I found myself just looking in the mirror not realizing where I was or what I am doing, my mind pure gush thinking about the next kiss or the cuddling that Ginger provides me at night.
I did make it home intact, but barely as that outfit that I wore out of the salon plainly is a challenge to any woman to stay modest. Put it on a male and you see where I might have difficulty. When I sat at the restaurant, I felt that my panties are constantly on show, no matter how much I tugged I couldn’t get the skirt to cover any more of my thigh. My legs crossed at the knees, not a normal thing for me, in an attempt to keep modest.
Ginger is amused by my actions, giggling at any attempt by me to stay decent. I guess she has worn outfits like this in the past, and I also ogled her attempts to keep covered. My payback for past occurrences tenfold since I am in the skirt this time, and she is enjoying my anxiety.
As we entered the house, the phone is ringing, and Ginger makes it to the phone first. The caller turns out to be Susan, and Ginger and her chat for quite some time. Hearing only half of the conversation, Ginger tells her of my latest additions and apparently invites her over first thing in the morning so she can see my new jewelry. I am trying to get Ginger’s attention, mouthing the words no, no. Ginger smiles that wicked little smile of hers, then whispers what my next day’s treatment is going to be. Unfortunately, I can’t hear what she has said, so I am still in the dark. I did hear that Susan will be over at seven-thirty in the morning, to view the new me, great now I have to be ready earlier than usual.
Ginger uses the remainder of the evening to her advantage, probing and exploring all of my new jewelry. Have you ever had your toe sucked with rings on it, I know it sounds absurd, but as she attacked my toe, the tingles radiated all through my body. Then she slipped my bra off and rubbed the exposed nipple of the breast. I took in a deep breath; my mind went blank, and the nipple turned rock hard. That also triggered more radiating tingles racing through my body.
It was, at least, an hour later when she seemed to wind down, laying by my side with her one hand cupping one of my fatty deposits on my chest. Thankfully she was just running her fingers over the area around my nipple, and I managed to slip into a fit filled sleep.
Susan was very prompt, a larger than life smile on her face as I greeted her at the door. She made a detailed survey of my body, then asked to see the nipple shields. I removed the blouse, unhooked my bra and let it slip down my arms. Of course, she has to touch the nipples, why I can’t understand she has a pair herself, why she has to touch mine lost in the moment. She helped me with the bra fastening it behind me, then as I am slipping the blouse back over my head she twists one of the nipples, and I moan and almost puddle on the floor.
She helps me to the couch, then holds me, hugging a little and kissing my face. She informed me that she had Ginger’s permission to touch the merchandise, she can’t wait till I get real breasts. Oops, came out of her mouth, a hint of things to come apparently. Susan left shortly after that; the bounce to her step showing that she is enjoying this as much as Ginger.
Friday Day Four
Eight-thirty at the Turnabout Gurl salon for day four, for all that has happened to me, I can’t believe this is only day four. Michelle greeted me as I entered the salon, taking my hand and leading me back to her treatment room. I just wish at times that I knew what is going to happen each day, and then other times I am glad that knowledge is being withheld. She asked if I am ready for today’s lesson, then reverted to the standard start of each of my treatments, take off all of your clothes except the corset and panties. I fulfilled the request, standing there in the middle of the room with a blush attempting to hide my embarrassment.
She attached some garters to the corset, six to be exact and had me sit on the edge of a chair as she rolled the stockings up my legs. Then standing again, she attached the stockings to the garters. The sensation of the silky stocking sliding up my leg and the tension of the garters as she attached them to the corset is very erotic. A pair of very scary high heels were added to my feet; then she wanted me to walk around a little to get used to the heels. Scary was the word I used to describe them because the heel height turned out to be four inches, the heel tapering to a stiletto, with a strap that went around my ankle keeping them securely on my foot.
I did have trouble walking in them, but shorter steps and placing one foot in front of another seemed to help. These were Michelle’s suggestions, not anything I would have thought of myself. After twenty minutes, she moved me over to a treadmill having me step onto it and grab the handholds. She started it at a very slow pace, then gradually increased the speed. Constant corrections from her as to my length of stride and my foot placement were the rule for the next hour.
The comical thing is that my only clothes are the corset, panties and stockings as this exercise took place. It was much later in the day when I recognized that I had on no clothes. No one mentioned that I lacked clothes on my body, a female, only clad in underwear, walking in heels around the salon a normal thing. Then I noticed that my fatty deposits on my chest were bouncing all over the place as a result of not having a bra on. I am sure my image would cause giggling and laughter no matter who was looking at it.
At a little after ten, she allowed me a break, a diet soda, and an energy bar are the bills of fare. I felt a little better, but not sure if it was what I ate or the fact that I am off my heels. She had me remove my heels, and then remove the stockings. Again the slippery feel of the nylons, as they slid down my leg, is almost too much. She handed me a new pair of stockings that I had to put on myself and attach to the garters hanging from my corset. She had me adjust them several times since I did not have the tension right but finally managed to complete the task. Again the lingering feeling of the stockings, as they slid up my hairless legs, is difficult to do while maintaining my composure.
Next a new pair of heels, this pair only had a three-inch heel, complete with ankle strap. I asked about a little larger heel, something with a little more stability. Michelle answered, yes they make them, and no you will not be wearing them since the femininity quotient is too low. Femininity quotient does that even exist, but I am assured that it does and that everything I wear or services performed for me would have a very high FQ.
Walk around for a little while, and then a stint on the treadmill, this time without the hand holds. Forty minutes later I quit thinking how I was walking and fell into the natural pace and swing of a female walking in heels. It became effortless as I walked along in the heels, even though the three-inch heels did not have as large an FQ as the taller ones that I wore earlier.
Another break, a small salad, and a few crackers are the extent of the meal. I started to say something to Michelle, but she nixed the exchange in the bud with her statement that I needed to watch my waist line. I needn’t have concerned myself since the corset curbed my appetite, allowing me only to eat part of the small salad.
After the break, if that is the word for it, another pair of stockings, a new pair of heels, and a pencil skirt were given to me to wear. The heels must have had an FQ nearly at the top of the scale since the heel height was five inches, the stiletto almost tapered to a point, and only one strap across the lower foot and an ankle strap held the heels onto my feet. I was sure that this pair would cause me trouble but was pleased that my Femininity Quotient would be off the charts. It is amazing the things that I tell myself, part to somehow get through this, and part to maybe accept some of the things that are happening to me.
The pencil skirt fit me like a second skin from my waist to my knees. It looked good on me, but when I tried to move with it, the realization hit me. It would restrict my stride, even more, causing me to sway more as I tried to maneuver in the skirt. I was allowed almost an hour to get accustomed to the restricted stride, and then back on the treadmill. She did keep the speed of the treadmill down to a manageable pace, but being able to manage the pace required all of my concentration. Hence, I lost track of time and her conversation.
About three thirty, Michelle pronounced my day complete. She had taken some videos of my walking as the day progressed, and she allowed me to sit and watch them. I saw the clumsiness at the start of the day, then as each hour passed I noticed the improvement in my walk. Finally, the snippet of the session with the skirt and the five-inch heels, all I saw is a female, a sexy woman in beautiful heels, in the videos.
She handed me a blouse, again silky and lacy, to put on, and then stooped to attach a strap around the heels and my ankle. I gave her a funny look, wondering what this was all about, and then when she clicked small locks through the ends of the strap, I knew the answer. I would wear the heels until somebody allowed me to take them off. I did have some pain from wearing the heels, but not something I couldn’t handle. However, more hours in the heels were not what I was looking forward to, just a little respite from the heels a better choice.
She handed me two cloth bags and told me they were to slip over my heels before I went to bed, to keep from ruining the sheets. Well so much for getting out of the heels tonight, but why did she have to end up with the five-inch heels, I guess a reason that I would not be privy to today. Well, I am ready to head home, another new outfit, and something else making me more feminine just completed.
I will have to hand it to the people that designed the ten steps to being a more feminine female. Everything that I have gone through has sculpted me into a feminine persona, and I am only at the halfway mark of the program. Ginger came by to check on me and watched as I daintily made my way over to where she is standing. She seemed impressed, as she attacked my body, making sure that I knew her love for me. I keep thinking back to my stupidity and at the remarks, I had made about the program.
I began to wonder what she will think of me after I complete the program. A most feminine female, but maybe not as desirable as a boyfriend and husband. I wished that I had not pushed the issue, hindsight proving that it was the most idiotic thing I had ever done. I just hope that our relationship is still strong after this is over.
I took my leave of the salon, heading home to put something together for dinner and maybe earn a few reprieves from future developments. The drive is as usual, boring and way too long. I parked in the driveway near the garage since I had forgotten to pick up the remote to open the garage door. As I made my way down the driveway to the side kitchen door, the sound of my heels on the concrete echoed through the neighborhood. Our neighbors were bound to be aware of my presence with the clatter of my heels.
With no makeup on and no eyebrows, I thought the neighbors would easily see through my disguise, but everyone I met asked how I was and addressed me in the female gender. Must be a lot of people these days that require glasses or contacts to be able to see. I entered the house and made my way to our bedroom, thinking that I would change into some of my male clothes. Then I remembered the corset and my female figure that would prohibit any male clothes from fitting my new body shape.
I was beginning to wish that I could remove the heels since the strain in my calves is starting to hurt a little. Looking down at the straps that Michelle had attached around the shoes and my ankles I saw that would most likely be impossible. The strap is substantial, requiring more than a pair of scissors to cut through it. I guess accepting my fate might be a better choice, and I proceeded to the kitchen to make dinner.
I am not well skilled in the kitchen, but could make a simple dinner, warm leftovers, or make a packaged meal taste like something. That was to be the fare tonight as I took a one-skillet dinner, with the addition of quite a few spices and added a side of salad and rolls to make tonight’s menu. I made tea; both of us fans of green tea made fresh and chilled over ice cubes. I got everything together and on the table as Ginger walked through the front door. I gave her a welcome housewife kiss and received a reward of some groping as we made our way to the dining room table.
Although I haven’t been excited about being made more feminine, the sensual kissing and occasional groping by Ginger towards me is appreciated. It makes me feel desired, loved in a non-sexual way, an idea not often connected to a male in a loving relationship. I guess that I am just not your normal male, thinking of how I look at the moment, a truer statement never voiced.
She enjoyed the meal, often joking that maybe we ought to reverse the roles and then she could marry me and make an honest women out of me. At least, I hoped she is joking, but with Ginger, you could never be sure, as when I first brought up the flier from the salon. She told me she would gladly take the program if I would take one of being a masculine male.
I had presumed from that comment that she did not think I was very masculine, causing me a lot of worry over the next few hours. It turns out that was just her way of telling me that she is enough of a feminine female and that she would not be interested in the course. Since my remarks about the program questioned her and the salons beliefs, and since I couldn’t just keep my mouth shut, I caused my own demise. If I only had listened, I might not be here in heels, dressed as a female with hairless skin. If only I had listened.
She helped me clean the dishes and put the leftovers away and then we headed to the bedroom. She helped me get undressed, and then put the shoe covers on tying the drawstrings on the bag so that they would not come undone. I delicately asked her the reason for wearing the heels; her reply was for my feet to get used to wearing heels all the time. A feminine woman takes a long time to get accustomed to wearing heels all day, a luxury I didn’t have. As a young female, it takes years for a girl to get used to wearing heels, without the corresponding pain usually associated with heels.
She told me that she had watched the videos that Michelle had taken and that she is thrilled at my progress and sexy looks. She proclaimed that she just might have to marry me if I kept up the progress. The newer tighter corset, which was slipped on me yesterday, left my breasts available for playing with, and Ginger took advantage if that fact. The nipples especially seemed to ache wanting some attention. I had just about got used to the earrings though dangling from my neck and ears. Then it dawned on me I had been braless all day, the thin blouse not able to able to hide much, the nipples in their discs plainly visible to anybody.
Saturday Day Five
Another morning, another appointment, too many days to go till this endeavor is over. As I swing my legs out of bed, I am confronted with the bags that are covering my heels. I position my foot as close to me as possible so that I can get the laces undone on the bags. Many minutes later, I finally manage to get them undone and remove the bags. Then swinging my feet back down to the bedroom floor, I try to stand in the heels.
On the second attempt, I have successfully attained a standing position and stride out for the bathroom. It is not simply a matter of choice, and at that moment, it is highly necessary to keep my panties somewhat dry. Arriving at my destination, I pull down my panties and sit on the toilet. From the moisture on my panties, I have already leaked some, causing me quite a bit of distress. It seemed that the amount of liquid released is going to overflow the toilet, but it didn’t. I must remember to restrict my water intake, the pressure of the corset on my bladder allowing it to hold very little.
I sure hope they have scheduled a corset change for today, the itching feeling having regained its former level of torment. True to their word, the body does get used to the tightness of the corset and the majority of the time I don’t realize it is on. The ache at my nipples though is persistent, not pain just a constant sensation that they are being rubbed or fondled. I guess that is the point of the nipple rubbing the inside of the corset or bra cup, whatever it is, it can be very distracting.
Today, I guess I wear female clothes to the appointment since my closet is missing any former male clothing last night when I got home. I know the heels will be an integral part since I can’t remove them, and I have now several outfits that I have worn home to choose from, so there are choices available. Since Ginger had to leave early this morning for an early appointment, I am on my own. I decided to wear the outfit that I wore home the first night. I finish up in the bathroom, still shocked a little seeing my reflection in the mirror with no eyebrows.
The reflection is feminine, even though my hair has remained untouched. I brush my hair and put it up in my typical high ponytail, something I have been doing for several days now. Back to the bedroom and slip into my clothes, check myself in the mirror, and then head to the kitchen. Since the application of the corset, my appetite had dwindled to almost nothing; I am positive that my weight has shown a significant loss during this time a plus for my new feminine figure.
I have noticed that I seem obsessed by any mirror that I walk by, wanting to make sure that all is perfect in my appearance, at least, the things that I can do something about my concern. I imagine with the program completed, the time at the mirror will be significantly longer, due to all that has to be fixed or repaired. I finally managed to get out the door and head to the salon, although I will be late today by the looks of the time.
When I arrive at the salon, Ginger is at reception, with several customers lined up to check in. After all, of them are processed she tells me to go to Julia’s room and remove all my clothes, I start to mention the locks on my corset, but Ginger picks up two locks that were on the desk asking if these were the ones. She giggles, telling me that she removed them this morning before I woke up. With my head down I headed back to remove my clothes, kicking myself for not noticing they were gone. I could have been free of the corset for an extra hour or two if I had paid attention.
Since my heels were still locked on, I had to slide the pants over the heels carefully, and then I started unbuttoning the blouse. With the silky blouse sliding off my shoulders, I was able to get to the corset. I reached behind me feeling for how the laces seem to be fastened. I found the bow, undid it, and then started loosening the laces. It is an ordeal, but as I achieved a little slack, my body groaned in gratitude. Finally, I am able to get it loose enough to slide it off my body, the goose pimples and the feelings of joy that accompanied that feat is fantastic.
I was rubbing myself all over as Ginger came into the room. She checked out my body, smiling as she ran her hands over my waist and breasts but spent way too long on my nipple shields. The act of her touching me there was like electricity surging through my body. Thankfully she did not persist in her fondling as I wouldn’t be able to handle the feelings. She removed the cloth bag that surrounded my belly piercing, the straps holding my heels on my feet, then told me to take a shower, making sure that I washed everywhere since it would be several days before I could take another one.
The shower is wonderful, the warm water cascading over every inch of my body. Several times I had to turn away from the spray and the pulsating stream attacking my nipples was making me weak. It must have been at least twenty minutes later that I finally left the shower, although I hadn’t used up all the hot water. As I am drying my new body, I wondered what is on the agenda for today. I knew whatever it is; it would most likely impact my life in a most dramatic way.
Julia came in shortly after that, asking if I enjoyed the shower. I know I responded but was not sure that she could hear my response for the purring that is coming from my body. Like a contented cat, my whole body was vibrating with pleasure. She smiled, giggled a little, and then stated that her assumption is apparently right. She helped me on the treatment table, then applying the moisturizing cream to my body, not missing any areas. Since there was no hair regrowth trying to initiate, it could be assumed that the follicles were dead, and I would be hairless from now on.
That statement should have deeply concerned me, but for some reason, the fact that I would have a hairless body from now on is viewed as something good. After she had finished the front side, she had me flip over, and she handled the back side with equal skill and speed. As I turned over to lay on my back, she was wheeling in a machine on a stand with two cups dangling from hoses attached to the unit. I briefly wondered where the cups were intended for, but only for a few minutes.
She proceeded to rub a numbing cream on my nipples since my nipples were so sensitive; something Ginger is proud of, apparently a necessity before the machine does its thing. Then a block of substance, squishy and soft, is placed over my breast, and then the cup lowered to my chest. The same treatment is performed to my other breast and with both cups sealed against my chest with adhesive the pump started, sucking my already loose tissue firmly into the cups. I am thankful that she put the numbing cream on my nipples since through the clear form I could see my nipple with their attached shields pointed towards their final destination. I could feel the tension of the breast tissue as it is stretched to fill the form.
The cups heated up and then the pump went from a steady suction to a pulsating suction. After five minutes, the pump turned off, but the tissue remained sucked into the form since the vacuum is still present. Several minutes later the pump restarted keeping the tissue stretched and trying to fill every corner of the form. The heat generated by the form became almost uncomfortable, right on the edge of being too hot. I noticed a little sweat coming from the chest area surrounding the form.
The pumping kept up for several hours, with Julia checking on me several times to make sure the pump was doing its job. I was also given sips of water as needed, but other than the noise of the pump it is quiet in the room. After four hours of this treatment, Julia came in and turned the pump off. The hoses were disconnected from the forms and the unit is wheeled out. I lay there wondering what is going to happen now; the loose tissue seemed almost solid in the forms.
Julia came back about fifteen minutes later and helped me to sit up, inspecting the seal around the edges of the form. She asked if I wanted some reading material since the forms were to stay on until they dissolved in a few days. I let out a deep sigh. The task now is to pick out a hairstyle for me. She returned later with a whole handful of hair style magazines, suggesting that I find some style that I might like. She sat with me going over what type of style might look good with my face shape. She pointed out a couple that might fit the image, but they are very feminine.
For the next several hours, I went through the whole stack, dog-earing any that I thought were attractive. Three hours after the forms are disconnected from the machine I noticed some tingling returning to my nipples. By that time the forms are really bothering me, my nipples were particularly touchy. I mentioned this to Julia but she said I would have to wait until I could be laced into the corset again before anything could be done to help the sensations.
They were not just loose tissue that the corset forced up; they were two C cup breasts looking like they had been there from the start. Ginger and I now identical breasts on our chest, Julia had informed me of my correct cup size when I had over exaggerated my estimation of their size when I first saw them. The forms were already getting flexible, the sides now able to be pushed in. When she ran her hand over the nipple I swear I could feel the touch of her hand.
It seems that every treatment performed by the salon makes such a huge difference in my looks and presentation. I prided myself on my normal male presentation, but after only five treatments I can’t be taken as anything but a feminine female. Julia then drags out a new corset. I held the sides as she fastened the busk, then turned so she can lace me up. Quickly the laces are tightened as the corset molds my body back into that perfect female hourglass figure. This time, the new breasts on my chest fill out the cups to perfection. Even though the forms are still there I can feel the cups of the corset.
Since my body has not had time to revert to its former masculine shape the lacing goes fairly fast, the shape from before still prevalent. The last inch or two are a little more resistant, but Julia manages to get the sides of the corset to touch. Of course, the locks go back on, assuring my compliance with the corseting. In a way, the corset feels good as it supports my back, helping me to stand more upright. I feel secure within its grasp, the cups cradling my new breasts.
The thought sank in a little more; I have my own breasts, a part of my body. How weird is that? Nestled in the cups of the corset they felt so good, like they are being softly caressed, a very pleasant sensation. Some new clothes were brought in, a soft pink pair of pants, which looked like they would mold to the shape of my legs. The matching sweater with a burgundy flower design woven into the pattern is also very form fitting. Julia’s only remark was if you have the figure flaunt it.
In these clothes, I would certainly be flaunting it. The heels had to be put back on since I had almost to stand on my toes to keep the calves from aching. Once on, the legs looked and felt much better, the heels now a requirement in my future.
Tonight a repeat of last night, except that I managed a lasagna dish of sorts with garlic bread for dinner. Ginger is a little more subdued since they had been very busy today, the promotion really taking off. I managed to get to bed at a decent time, and my nemesis only cuddled me as we drifted off to sleep. Later in the night after visiting the bathroom, when I returned to bed, sleep evaded me. I lay there thinking of recent events, but the emerging thought that surprised me the most is how accepting of this transformation I have become, with few complaints.
It is a stupid bet, one that I will still be enduring some of the resulting transformations for quite some time. The breasts today a good example. My skin stretched to the max, and some kind of tissue inserted to keep the fullness that is not going to go away after the conclusion of the bet, even I can see that. Then wearing heels all the time, my tendons are already shortened, requiring heels all the time for comfort. Getting them back to normal will probably require lots of time and pain before I will be able to wear a pair of sneakers again.
Sleep did eventually come, but no answers suddenly popped into my head, and no conclusions reached concerning the reversal of my procedures. Then again maybe I don’t want them reversed. The thought hung around for a couple of minutes before the sleep that had evaded me finally returned.
I am half way through my morning ablutions when Ginger walked in giggling at me. I asked what is wrong; a couple more giggles and I am getting frustrated. I told her that I didn’t have time to play games with her this morning, it is already seven-thirty, and I hadn’t a thing on but the corset and a pair of panties. She reached her arms around me, whispering in my ear that she is determined to make me late this morning, my new taskmaster would likely punish me for the deed, and I would have to spend extra time trying to appease her.
I squealed, trying to break free from her grip but still caught in her grasp. I did what any feminine female would do and started crying, Ginger soothed me a little but still holding me in her embrace. Finally, she broke out giggling, almost in hysterics; it is Sunday Victoria, and you don’t have to go to the salon. When that information managed to get processed, I felt so small and blonde. I had lost track of what day it is, and in typical blonde fashion just presumed that it is another day at the salon.
Ginger told me to come to the bedroom as soon as I finished, and she would help me remove my corset for a while. Then put on the nightie that she would leave out for me. Oh, and be sure to gargle with mouthwash. I asked her if I had bad breath, but she ignored me and went to the bedroom. I made sure to gargle a sufficient lengthy time, and then padded to the bedroom in my heels. It had got to the point that I had to have a pair of heels on or the pain in my calves would be severe.
Ginger had helped get the corset laces loose, and I finished slithering out of the garment. Every time I saw my body out of the corset, I sighed, the feminine curves and hourglass shape more pronounced every day. The required rubbing of my skin in celebration of no corset, out of the way, I picked up the nightie and slipped it on. My hips, in particular, seemed larger than yesterday, my imagination, I don’t know but the slack area in the corset yesterday almost filled today when I slipped the corset off of me. The light green baby doll nightie came to just below my groin, although the lace and ruffles seemed to accentuate my breasts and hips. I also saw that the nightie came with matching panties and slipped them on too.
The heels that I had been wearing were dark blue in color, not very appropriate for a light green nightie. I looked in the closet and found an ecru pair, through the heel height was, at least, an inch taller. I slipped them on, then fumbled with the straps for at least twenty minutes before I managed to get them buckled. I sat down at the vanity and brushed my hair, the resulting hairdo so much more voluminous than before. I declared myself ready and headed to the kitchen.
As I passed the mirror on the closet door, I took in my appearance and pulled up short. I had forgotten my lipstick, a must to keep my lips moisturized and inviting. Although I had not had any instruction in makeup per se, several of the ladies suggested it since Ginger seems so enamored of my lips. I applied a coat, then blotted it, then one more coat for that extra gloss and richness of color. It was a deep rich burgundy lipstick that was quite mesmerizing.
As I entered the kitchen where Ginger was getting us some breakfast, I once again came face to face with a smiling Ginger. She appraised my looks and attacked my lips, the passionate kiss lasting for several minutes. Sometimes Ginger kisses with a lot of tongue, exploring my mouth and throat. Today though she was more interested in sucking every ounce of air out of my body. It was a sensuous kiss, but I had to pull away so that I could resume breathing.
“Does my little Victoria not like my kisses?” I tried to respond, but the redness of my cheeks is interfering with my brain activity. I was simply tongue-tied. Well, Ginger knew the cure for this, and I was assaulted again by her mouth. By now the brain is pure gush, the kissing is causing my nipples to get excited, and that is causing my brain to shut down and just enjoy the kiss. Eventually, that is what I did; I just enjoyed it.
I wonder if all women have this problem where their body takes over causing them to do and experience things that maybe common sense might dictate otherwise. We did eventually get around to eating the fruit slices that Ginger had prepared, along with tea, a preferred drink for both of us instead of the coffee usually consumed. I asked her what the schedule for today is going to entail; her response is more of the same. I gave her a puzzled look, and then she giggled and smiled. Today you are going to learn how to kiss sensuously another person, me.
Ginger suggested that we adjourn to the bedroom, our makeup seriously in need of repair. I went first cleaning off the old lipstick and adding fresh layers. Instead, of two coats, Ginger handed me a lip gloss, saying that it will require less work, plus keeping our lips soft and sensuous. The lip gloss did make my lips desirable, as Ginger quickly informed me of that fact.
The first lesson is never to rush the kiss unless you are horny, and your new wife is making you lose your mind. I think she is referring to her as to the horny and me as the new wife. The kiss should be desired and never rushed, approaching the kissee and slowly moving you lips to the intended target. Then a light touch of the lips to establish contact, also allowing for any static electricity to discharge.
After the initial contact, re-approach the target, appraising the goal, then slowly make contact again allowing the lips to engage the target fully. A little extra pressure allows the kissee to know that she is desired and loved. The pressure should never be strong enough to cause that person to step backward. From a kissee’s viewpoint, you should welcome the lips, inviting them to stay a while, then gently lean into the kiss, allowing a firmer contact with the lips. We practiced and practiced for at least an hour, almost wearing off the lip gloss in the process.
If my mind hadn’t been mush before it is now, the feelings radiating through my body, conveying to me the love of my S.O. and my need to reciprocate my love to her. The femininity is causing me to be submissive, I am not the one initiating the kiss, I am on the receiving end, and am proud to be so.
When we finished with that particular kind of kiss a break is necessary since both of us are short of breath and breathing faster than usual, maybe as a result of the apparent lust shared in the room. She suggested that lipstick repairs are needed, and we both attended to that task. After repairs it is time for the next type of kiss, Ginger called the kiss the I love you nibble. The purpose here is to drive the intended target over the edge with playful nibbles and kisses designed to melt down any resistance and turn the kissee into a blithering blob of desire.
This nibble/kiss can be aimed at any erogenous area of the face and neck. Often a prolonged attack is necessary to clear any resistance. She demonstrated by nibbling at my ear, working down my neck with nibbles and light kisses until she had reached my upper chest. Without any verbal communication, my breasts are stretching up to meet her lips, as she got nearer to them. Then she lightly nibbled my lips, their twitching showing their desire for more attention.
Then she moved her lips to my nose and eyes, my eyelids closing in anticipation of being touched. My breathing became more labored, my facial muscles twitching in approval at the attention that they are receiving. As she brushed her lips over my eyelid, she let out a small breath, and I orgasmed right there on the bed without anyone touching my organs. She felt me shudder and knew what happened, smiling stopping her attention and allowing me some space.
I quickly gathered my senses and made for the bathroom, I pulled down my panties and squatted on the toilet. Wiping I slipped my panties back up and flushed. I knew that I would be blushing as I faced Ginger again, the femininity of coming just from the stimulation of her lips on my face. Never would a male be guilty of such obviously feminine release. I made my way back to the bed with cheeks a blazing. She took my hand lying me down on the bed and cuddled me close, whispering of her love for me, and her thanks for me experiencing this side of her life. I would always be her treasure to be loved and cherished.
I told her if she expects to complete this training she better stop with the talk and resume the kissing. I was silently tearing up, my love and respect for her more than it has ever been. She had me execute the nibble/kiss on her so that I could compose myself a little. She realized how deeply I was into all of this and knew that my mind needed to be occupied for a while. I practiced my technique on her, roaming my mouth over her face, nibbling here and there. My breathing is already labored causing her to twitch a little as I hit a particularly vulnerable spot.
I got my revenge when I was nibbling on her ear, then slipped my tongue out and lightly licked the crease between her ear and head while exhaling a little breath to finish off the deed. She almost threw me off of her as she writhed and shuddered. I looked her in the eyes, smiling that Cheshire cat type of smile and giggled. She hit me in the arm, protesting that is not an authorized maneuver. I replied that I am just improvising a little. Now she protested that she would have to clean up, I offered to do it for her as I licked my lips, but she said that would only entail moving some of the lessons to another day, and we were on a strict schedule as it is.
She came back from the bathroom smiling, really looking forward to more of this training. I hoped I could resist any further attacks on my person; I am sure she will try and cause another mishap to even the score. First, the lipstick had to be repaired again, I returned from the vanity, with two coats of the lipstick and a coat of gloss on top of that. I was getting hooked on the taste of the lipstick and loved the feel of it on my lips. I am constantly rubbing my tongue over the lips to savor the feel and taste.
We cuddled for a while, a pleasant feeling that I never enjoyed before, holding someone you love, just relaxing in their embrace and thinking of nothing. The feel of the lace on the nighties as it slid over our bodies, the satin material as it comforted our bodies, are experiences that seemed to be welcoming to the mind. In our past relationship before the fiasco of the femininity promotion Ginger and I never took the time just to hold each other, no sex, nothing but the feel of our bodies as they nestled next to each other.
Back at the training, Ginger decided I had mastered the nibble/kiss enough to move on. Next is the wet, tongue involved French Kiss. She wanted me to be the aggressor in this scenario. I am to approach her, get her attention, and then wow her with the kiss. I tried to be seductive as I approached her sitting on the bed. I leaned over holding her face with my hands, then tilted my head and approached her lips.
I tenderly touched her lips with my mine, then withdrew to repeat the process. After a couple of nibbles, I kissed her a little longer as I took her lower lip in between my lips and pulled back a little. Then releasing her lip, I kissed her a little more fully, allowing my tongue to brush her lips lightly. When her lips opened a little, I inserted my tongue gently against her teeth and tongue. I moved it around a little savoring her taste and stimulating her tongue with rapid, but light touching. Then twisting my head a little more to the side I explored her mouth in all its glory.
Finally, I leaned back letting my tongue lightly touch her lips as I withdrew. Another light kiss/nibble and I withdrew fully. I smiled at Ginger as the expression on her face said it all. She was going to teach me kissing, and I had managed to take her breath away as I showed her what I was capable of doing. I got a puzzled look from her as she asked me where I learned to kiss like that. I pointed to her, telling her that when she is exploring my vocal cords, I am watching and feeling what she did to me. The rest is history, I know that is corny, but I always wanted to say that.
That was the end of the lessons for today, but practice is always required to be at your best. Ginger practiced for the rest of the day and evening. When she finally relented I was asleep in minutes, my body could not take any more stimulation, no way, no how.
Monday Day Six
Getting out of bed seems to be a little easier these days, a benefit I think of losing quite a bit of weight. With a vicious corset trying to cut me in half, what do you expect? During the days at the salon water and an energy bar are all the nutrients that are consumed by me. At night, I eat a little more since I am starved when dinner comes, but the reduced size of my stomach can’t handle much. I consume maybe a fourth of what I used to eat at a meal. I seem to have more energy, at least, I act energetic, and the main difference is that I feel like doing things where in the past I just didn’t feel like doing anything.
I dressed in another of the outfits that I had worn home from the salon since with my new enlarged breasts nothing else fit. The erotic feeling from my nipples are still there, quite often the feelings are a handful to deal with, never to be denied, a persistent need to be touched. It’s like my mind cannot focus on anything else but the feelings. No wonder I have lapses of memory, from one minute to another often blurred.
I handled my bathroom duties and ran a brush through my hair, then fondled my earrings a little, another pleasure that I have become addicted to. Clicking out to the garage in my heels I slid my rear end into the seat and fastened my seatbelt, ready for a trip to the salon. Yes, the stiletto heels are still a part of me, my presumption being that I am probably one of the most experienced males around walking in heels.
At the salon, Michelle greeted me at reception looking in the appointment book to see who I am scheduled to be with today. A large smile adorns her face, as she turns and calls out for Ginger. It turns out that Ginger was already on her way, smiling from ear to ear. I am sure glad that everyone gets enjoyment from making me more feminine, although I have seemed to develop some enjoyment in the things that are done to me also.
Like everyone else she takes my hand and leads me back to her styling station. Seated in her chair, she then turns the chair around and lays down the back so she can wash my hair at the sink. I kidded her about not wanting me to strip out of my clothes, her giggle, and comment that we could still do that if I wanted. I was purring as she washed my hair, then using conditioner as she massaged my head. It felt so good; I could have enjoyed that all day, but wrapping a towel around my head she raised the back of the chair, and the sensations subsided.
She lightly blow-dried my hair to get the excess moisture out, then separated it into smaller sections and pinned each one. Looking in the mirror my image looked a little ridiculous as the pin curls covered my head, but I knew it is only a prelude to things more feminine. She grabbed some bundles of longer blonde hair and laid them on my shoulder. Then starting at the front of my head she released a section and added a few strands of the blonde hair, using a glue gun to secure them to my hair. I could see that this was going to be a lengthy process, so I made myself more comfortable in the chair.
Ginger worked along at a fairly quick pace adding the extensions to my hair. About an hour later another stylist came to assist Ginger, speeding up the process considerably. I watched in the mirror as my image changed from an attractive woman to a gorgeous female. The blonde highlights transformed my hair from a run of the mill brunette to a striking medium blonde. Even though my original hair had not been dyed, after the extensions it appeared lighter with much more vibrancy.
It took them almost three hours to complete the task, with then adding almost five hundred new strands of hair to my head. Ginger brushed the highlighted hair, then ran her fingers through my hair like she couldn’t stop touching it. Finally, she grabbed my head with her hands and gave me a toe curling kiss, telling me that I was making her moist in her panties looking at my super feminine image.
I never knew that Ginger felt this way about me, we often experienced a long and romantic interlude leading up to sex, but here I was being attacked by my girlfriend because she loves my hair. Now don’t get any ideas, I am not complaining in the least if anything I am pleased that she loves me so much. The fact that her love seems connected to me, a feminine female is not missed by me. I think I have a few inklings towards the feminine in me, ones that I never acknowledged or even admitted to, but none the less they are present.
After the kiss, she proceeded to cut my hair balancing out the length of my hair with the length of the extensions. I received bangs slightly longer than my eyebrows, if I had any, but brushing them to the sides of my face. Then sprayed my hair with setting gel and started to roll it on medium sized rollers. As she sectioned a portion off, she added a little more setting gel, then rolled the almost foot and a half long hair on the roller. Because the hair was so long the portions, she separated to roll were small, necessitating lots of rollers. She made the rollers very snug against the scalp and then pinned them in place.
Smaller rollers used at the nape of my neck, around the ears, and for my bangs causing me to giggle as I looked at my image in the mirror. My look is definitely feminine, almost a caricature of a female. I think Ginger noticed that I am becoming more relaxed with the femininity, not as tense and grumpy as I was on the first day of treatment. I am taken to one of the back rooms to dry my hair since Ginger wanted to have a little fun as my hair is drying.
The hair dryer is turned on, the warm air giving me goose pimples as it worked to dry my hair. Ginger got us a couple of bottles of water, then sat next to me and played with my corset and what is underneath. Since I am fully clothed, her hand had slipped through the front of the blouse sneaking around looking for something to get into trouble with at my expense. She did find my breasts kneading my nipples and the adjoining nipple rings through the bra. I asked her if she didn’t have other appointments to take care of, but she informed me that I am her only responsibility for a while. I closed my eyes and tried to think pure thoughts, but the aching in my nipples wanted some attention. For forty minutes, the hair dryer droned on, and Ginger managed to keep pace with her attention to my poor nipples.
She finally quit, not because she wanted to, but my hair is dry, and her fingers had to be tired from the exertion put forth. Back out to her station, as she began to remove the rollers from my hair each one leaving a perfect round curl even without the roller. She loosely brushed out the curls, leaving a soft, billowy mass of curly hair. The first style she tried was an up do, brushing the sides and front to smooth them pinning the mass of curls at the top and back of my hair. Some pictures are taken of the style then she unpinned the curls and brushed the hair again leaving masses of tumbling curls cascading from the top of my head down my back. A couple of more pictures, then she brushed my hair to the sides and back leaving an empty spot at the back of my head.
She left for a minute then returned carrying a large mass of hair and curls, but the same color as my new hair. The fall pinned to the back of my head; she then brushed the remaining hair over the fall blending the hair so that all of the hair looked like it is mine. I am surprised at the weight of the fall, a noticeable difference from my normal ponytail. As she brushed the hair, I noticed that I now had hair past my breasts, and the volume is amazing. I remember back when big hair was in for females, my Mom, a big proponent of this style. Well, I had it over the big hair people, everywhere I looked near and around my head that is a mass of hair and curls.
Ginger asked if I had anything planned for dinner, my reply is just leftovers from yesterday and maybe some applesauce for dessert. Apparently that is not what Ginger was interested in, or she is just looking for an excuse to get me where she could play some more, that a more logical reason. She called and made reservations at an Italian restaurant that we frequently visited, for seven-thirty. She asked if I wanted to go home, or stay at the salon, and then leave from here to go to the restaurant.
I chose to stay here and asked if I could stay in one of the unused treatment rooms until she finished with her last customer. She took me back to one of the rooms, asking me if I just wanted to sit or did I want to be strapped in until she is ready. I presumed she was joking, but with Ginger, you can never be sure. I found a pad and pen and started scribbling some thoughts down about my experiences the last few days. The idea came to me when she was gluing the extensions into my hair.
Maybe other people might be interested in my adventures with femininity, definitely not a typical story. The time passed quickly as I put down on paper my treatments, and especially my feelings about them. Soon Ginger came to get me, after finishing her last customer. She had in her hands some makeup, telling me that I couldn’t show up at the restaurant looking like I did. She penciled in some eyebrows, added mascara, some rouge for my cheeks, then lined and applied lipstick to my lips. I am watching in the mirror the whole time, any last vestiges of my masculinity vanished as she performed her magic.
I am handed a small clutch purse, with my mascara and lipstick added to the bag. She walked with me to her car, guiding me as a male would do with her hand in the small of my back. She even opened the car door for me, as I slid into the car. I am thankful, indeed, that today’s clothing included pants.
I knew skirts were going to be the norm, but it is way too much effort to stay decent in a skirt compared to a pair of pants. I had to be reminded to take my purse into the restaurant, but other than that I performed quite admirably for a feminine male. I told Ginger what I would like to eat, and she informed the waiter of our choices. My voice is not deep, but my inflections were still masculine. Ginger told me the voice class would take care of that for me.
We had a nice meal, I had an Italian version of chicken salad, with bread sticks and Ginger had a serving of Lasagna, a favorite of hers. The food is good, but with the corset, I only ate about half of the salad. She ordered some wine for us as an after dinner treat, and we talked as we sipped the wine. She wanted to know what I really thought about my experiences so far. I told her that it is hard to express in words, but I had written some notes and feelings about my experiences, and she might get a better feel for my thoughts by reading them.
She told me that all of the employees at the salon are so proud of Victoria; most thought that after the first one or two treatments that I would give up or just leave to avoid any more treatments. Ginger knew that I wouldn’t, my word means too much to me, but this is definitely not a trait shared by many males.
The dinner is pleasant, and we stayed too long as we sipped wine and talked about us. She admitted that as a feminine female I turned her on so much, it is like she couldn’t get enough of me. I admitted a little later that I probably would lose the bet, each day it is getting harder to ignore the feelings and sensations. I confessed to the fact that my IQ has probably dropped twenty points since my mind is goo, most of the time.
We made it home, but we were both shot physically and were soon asleep in our nighties cuddling each other. Sleeping with all that hair is different, thankfully Ginger had braided my hair before I went to bed, a necessity if I was to have long hair. I was informed to set my alarm for an hour earlier since my hair would have to be taken out of the braid and brushed. Not just a few brush strokes, but, at least, one hundred strokes with a good quality brush. Ginger noted my old brush and promptly threw it in the trash, citing the bristles were not firm enough and that the damage shown on the bristles would damage my hair.
Tuesday Day Seven
I dragged myself out of bed when the alarm intruded on my peaceful dream. I made my way to the bathroom after slipping on my heels. Yes, Ginger had allowed me to sleep without the heels, a welcome occurrence, but as soon as my feet hit the floor, the heels became a necessity. After brushing my teeth, I gathered my new brush and padded back to her vanity. I sat and started brushing my hair, after releasing it from the braid. The weight of my tresses was still something I had not gotten used to yet, but I will have to admit I liked the long hair.
Part way through, I became aware of how much work long hair can be, my arm was already getting tired, and I still had many more strokes to perform. I switched arms that helping a little, but using my left arm was a little awkward. If I was to do this every day, I knew that I would have to be able to brush with either arm. Nearing the ninety brush stroke, Ginger saved the day. She didn’t have to be in early, and she was going to the salon with me. She had been lying in bed watching me, giggling as I realized how much work it would be to keep my feminine appearance.
I guess she took pity on me, and took the hairbrush from me and finished brushing my hair. She did tell me that it would get easier as time goes by, but still time consuming. That is why the beauty salons do so good; the effort to keep feminine and pretty can sometimes be quite taxing, and any help a female can get, greatly appreciated by her. Incidentally, with her brushing my hair, I instantly am purring, a contented little pussy. Did I just call myself a pussy, I guess the mind has already gone?
Since she spent a few moments longer than she should have, we had to hurry to get ready in time. A pair of pants, some knee highs, and my heels completed the bottom half. Yes, I did do the customary clean pair of panties. Slipping on another pair of heels, they felt good on my feet, the angle of my foot in the shoe somehow comforting. A pullover sweater completed the outfit, although it fitted a lot tighter than when I wore it home the first time. That was due to the expansion of my mammaries.
Ginger is right behind me, and I am pushed outside and into the car. She has always had a thing for being late for her appointments, so today was no different. We did make it, but only five minutes to spare. When we got to the salon, she went directly to her station, as I am kidding her that I didn’t get any breakfast. She shot back; then I can tell Julia to use a smaller corset then since you will have lost some of that fat.
I gave her a sad look, telling her that she just called me fat; Julia was coming to reception, giggling all the way at the exchange. As she approached I got a hug, then she ran a tape around my waist, declaring me ready for a smaller corset. She looked in the appointment book to see what is scheduled for me, and then told me to take a seat, Stephanie would be with me shortly. Somebody new to inflict more femininity on me, how wonderful, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Since this is Tuesday day 7 of the promotion I wonder what wonders of femininity will bestowed on me today.
Stephanie came up and introduced herself taking my hand and leading me to her room of horrors, her words, not mine. She told me that there had been noted several complainants from me that I was not required to strip for every appointment, a fact that she was going to address. I will be doing your nails today, toes also, but to show that we at Turnabout Gurl Salon aim to please all of our customers you need to take off all your clothes.
I stared at her, is she kidding, apparently not as she asked me to turn around so she could take off the corset locks. Besides, since I haven’t seen your piercings, I deserve a sneak peek. I removed the sweater, the pants but am told to keep my heels on my feet. She helped me release the tension of the laces, and I managed to get the corset off. The urge to scratch and itch all of the covered up areas is almost too much. Instead, I rubbed the areas as carefully as I could to ease the discomfort.
She did offer me some cream to rub into the more distressed areas to ease the itching. The first place I placed a dollop of cream is my nipples. Only the actual tip of the nipple showed, the rest covered by the nipple shield, but the cream felt so good as I tried to massage it in. I finally calmed down enough for her to continue, my distress attack over for the moment. As I am rubbing the cream into several strategic locations, she commented on my piercings. She is wavering about having her nipples done, but after seeing mine, she thought she might go ahead.
She told me to sit in the salon chair and then wheeled her manicure cart over to me. She placed my hands into two bowls of liquid and told me to keep them there. She was looking at a chart of what she was going to perform to me today and giggled a little at a couple of the items. For the sake of femininity, another variation of having my nails done is in the cards. Her only comment that it would take some time to get used to my new appendages.
She lifted one of my hands from the liquid, pushed back the cuticles then cleaned the surface thoroughly. A file is used to rough the surface of the nail lightly; then she went through her box of extensions selecting ones that matched the size of each nail. She added a little glue to the surface of my nail, spreading it evenly over the surface, then carefully placed the extension on top of my real nail. She was extra careful to get it positioned just right, and I asked her why she was so careful. She smiled, these nails can’t be filed or cut since they are so hard.
I quickly looked at the nail seeing that it was, at least, an inch past my fingertip. OMG, how am I going to deal with these talons, talking about being noticeable they seemed to shout look at me. During the rest of my manicure, I just sat there trying to figure out how I could possibly deal with this. It didn’t take long until she had finished adding all the extensions, and then she brought over a UV dryer, placing my hands in it and turning it on. The UV dryer would make the glue permanent, the nail only coming off when the original nail grew out.
I would not have to worry, though, these nails breathe like real nails, and my real nails would not suffer for having the new nails glued to them. All I heard is permanent, which would mean six to eight months before they might again be a reasonable length. Twenty minutes under the light and I knew my fate. Why I didn’t keep my hands out of the dryer, only a higher authority would ever know.
As my hands left the dryer, I noticed that the artificial look of the nail had changed. It looked just like a real nail, in fact, it looked much better than my nails usually looked. She applied a base coat to the nail, telling me that would keep the color of the nail polish from bleeding into the nail bed. Then followed three coats of burgundy polish, Femininity Inc. the name of the polish. The polish turned my nails into beacons that shined, then to top that off a gloss coat is added to make sure that the shine is near blinding.
I tried to make a fist to hide the brilliance of my nails but found the new length made that impossible. I didn’t know what to do with them, they fascinated me, I wanted to look at them, but the nails seemed to drive home the point that they were super feminine and now one with my body for months.
Temporarily my attention is distracted as Stephanie moved my feet into another container of liquid. After soaking for a while, she filed and shaped each toenail, also using a pumice stone on my heels and any rough spots located elsewhere on my feet. Then the base coat, followed by three coats of the same polish used on my fingernails. Finally, the top coat and my toenails just glistened.
With all of my nails polished she used a special cream on my hands and feet. It had been developed to soften the normally tougher skin on hands and feet. She used a rotating brush to apply and work it into the skin. My usual occurred, and the sound of my purring heard throughout the room. Once Stephanie connected the noise to what I am doing, she broke out in giggles. She told me that I am obviously a true pussy, wondering if I wanted a little rub behind the ears to go with the massage.
If you have never had a manicure and polish on your toes when you are naked, it is an experience never to be forgotten. There is this erotic nature to it that defies explanation. As she was applying the polish to my fingernails, my nipples were itching and trying to get out of their restraints. Then handling my toenails, as the cool polish slid over the nail surface added all kinds of sensations to my overworked mind.
I tried to say yes, but she is having too much fun stimulating my purring. When she ran the rotating brush through the spaces between my toes I thought I would have an orgasm right in front of her. I took a deep breath, forgetting to breathe for a minute, and then when she saw the effect it is having on me, she moved the brush to other areas. I did get a wicked smile from her, although no words were spoken. Finally, I am pronounced done, and then Stephanie told me that she would let Julia know that I am ready to be encased in my corset again.
She laid the back of the chair to the reclining position so that I could rest for a minute or two. It turned out to be for more than a minute as I quickly fell asleep. Suddenly I awoke as Ginger explored my throat from my mouth; her tongue felt like it is almost to my larynx. Meanwhile, her playful fingers trying to extract my nipple from the shields. She could see the reaction that she is getting, deciding to frustrate me as she stopped cold. My body, making quick spasms of movement as it is looking for her mouth and fingers.
The frustration is just about as bad as the actual teasing, my nipples, in particular, aching for anything, a touch, a rub, anything at all. Then Julia had to show up, party pooper that she is with a handful of tubing and a much larger corset than she usually puts me in. The tubing had me worried, just where is she going to put it. She gave me an evil smile and told me to relax. Then she put restraints on my wrists, followed up with the same on my ankles. I had a bad feeling about this.
I am right; it seemed her intention to catheterize me as she put on sterile gloves and opened the bag containing all that she need to perform the task. She did use some silicone salve to coat the end of the tubing and then gently slid it up my urethra. I was excited and erect until she started to insert the tubing. Then quickly all went limp, almost shrinking into oblivion. When she got to my bladder, a small stream came out the end of the tube.
When it is drained; she measured the tube until the cut end twisted around my scrotal sack and taped it into a place where a female usually peed from. I was wondering the reason for this but knew better than to ask. She released from my bonds and told me to stand and grab the back of the chair for support. The longer corset is wrapped around my body, and the front busk is fastened. My new breasts managed to hold the corset up until she could take the slack out.
This corset was a little different than the last two as there seemed to be more room in the hip area, as the length came down to my upper thighs. She steadily took out the slack until the corset seemed molded to my skin. It is still tight in the waist, but the breast area and the hip area, not so tightly constricted. She told me that was the reason for the design to encourage more buildup of fatty tissues in those areas.
The she told me to spread my legs, and she reached between my legs to grab hold of a panel that is hanging down at the rear of the corset. She pulled the panel forward between my legs securing my penis and the tubing end in a pouch in the front of the corset. The end of the flap attached to the front of the corset with several snaps. I found out the tip of the tube was extended through a hole in the corset so I could pee. She next attached a valve assembly to the tubing, having me turn it on and off to make sure that I could handle it with my new nails.
She then asked me to try and unfasten the snaps at the front of the corset. I tried for several minutes in vain, with Julia happy at my lack of getting the snaps undone. She told me that there is another panel that covered my anus, but that I would be required to get someone to help me get it undone so I could go #two. At that comment, my face turned dark red, similar to the sun at sunset. She giggled, since you are now in the helpless female class, welcome to the female gender.
The next morning I had to get Ginger to undo my flap so I could go to the bathroom. Not much could be more humiliating than that. I had the day off, if you could call locked in a corset, with a catheter a day off. I did some of my work, catching up on projects that I had got behind on. With the longer nails my typing speed went into the low forties, everything taking almost twice as long to complete. The fact that I made twice as many mistakes as the tips of my fingers found a key they weren’t supposed to, did not help matters. I also noticed that the corset is making me pee more often my bladder under quite a bit of pressure from its unrelenting grip.
I did manage an afternoon nap, before I started preparing dinner. Today was a day that the salon was booked solid, thus my day off. Ginger had a steady flow of customers all day, the promotion really filling the salon. One good thing came from it, she is so tired when she got home that she ate dinner and then went to bed. Unfortunately I had to wake her later in the evening so she could undo my flap. She was smiling the whole time, making sure to reattach the flap before we went back to bed. I swear she has an evil streak in her, just waiting to be unleashed.
Thursday Day Eight
The new nails did affect me getting ready the next morning. Mainly stabbing myself with talons, yes it did hurt. Simple tasks are now difficult, things hard to pick up, the new nails seemingly getting in the way at every turn. Ginger assured me that I would get accustomed to the length, it would just take some time. I gave up on wearing a blouse today since I couldn’t do the buttons with the long nails. I read the promo flyer again; they did look ultra-feminine but made life so much more difficult.
I had been trying to write about my experiences, even Ginger liked some of my thoughts, but now with these talons attached to my fingernails writing anything is nearly impossible. I no longer had locks on my heels and corset; they were not necessary since I could not undo the buckle on my shoe or undo the laces on the corset. A truly frustrating situation, but I will have to admit that my nails looked so feminine, helping to change my hand from drab to dazzling.
One of the things that made me feel so submissive and feminine is when I had to ask her to undo me so I could go to the bathroom. A necessity for life, but I had to have assistance, a helpless female needing someone to do things for her. Probably more mental than anything else, but it made me feel so submissive.
It took me almost ten minutes to fasten the button on my pants that I was planning to wear today. After the disaster with the blouse, I picked a pull on sweater to wear instead. The heels are easy to slip into, but the buckle had to stay unfastened until Ginger could help me. She is outright laughing as she buckled the shoe, reminding me of the promo for femininity. She assured me in the next breath that she adored my femininity, making her appreciate all that I am doing so she could have her sexy and feminine wife to treasure and love. There was a suppressed giggle attached to that last comment.
I gathered up my purse, a gift from Ginger so that I had a place to put my keys and the bottle of nail polish so that I could keep my nails fresh and beautiful. I headed to my car, slid into the seat, struggled to get my keys out of my purse, and then drove to the salon. I did bring an apple with me to eat since my meals have dwindled down to dinner with maybe a power bar for lunch.
Due to the constant restriction of the corset, I wasn’t really hungry, just something to appease my stomach I guess. I arrived at the salon right on time and Stephanie is waiting for me at reception. She wanted to see my nails first to make sure I had not ruined my manicure. I protested that I couldn’t do anything with them on, and I ended up crying a little. It isn’t fair, the nails are so frustrating, and what can I do? She pulled my hand, and I am led to her treatment room.
She spent a little time showing me some tips to allow me to function in them. It would still be difficult but picking up a coin, buttoning a button, dialing a number on a phone were still possible, just requiring a little more finesse to accomplish. She told me that yesterday I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of the tips, but after getting used to the talons, my mind is now open to the suggestions. After a couple of months with the new nails, I would be able to perform anything that I had previously done as a male. A couple of months that made my feminine conversion more of a permanent arrangement then.
With my frustration somewhat under control, Stephanie moved on to the day’s treatment. Again the clothes had to come off; easier said than done, but I did manage. Stephanie didn’t offer to help, figuring I needed the practice. She did help with the buckle on the shoe strap and the laces on the corset, though. That was done to assure that she could get to the treatment today and not carry over to another day. Whichever stylist is scheduled for the day always checked over the piercings, and any prior treatment to make sure there are no signs of infection or problems.
Today’s treatment is about skin care for both my body and face. She would show me the cream for the area she wanted me to apply it to and watch as I performed the task. For maximum feminization, the creams are applied daily and rubbed in. When I tried to rub the cream for my legs in a very strong and hard manner, she quickly corrected me. That apparently can cause wrinkles, so a light application of the cream and then a light circular motion to work in the cream.
For the body, she ended up giving me five different creams to use. The hand and foot cream is the most important, applied as often as possible for best results. Then the cream for my heels at night, a heavier cream that when first applied acted like a regular cream, then with gentle rubbing the cream turned to a liquid, absorbed directly into the skin of the foot. She also addressed filing of calluses as needed before the application of the cream.
I only managed to dig my nails into my tender skin three times, none bad enough to break the skin. Stephanie got me a bottle of water to drink, and we took a small break. She noticed that I had already adapted a few of my movements to account for my new nails. She got called to reception for a phone call, and I unconsciously started rubbing my hands over my body. Ginger caught me, telling me that is her job, and I am not allowed to pleasure myself.
My skin did feel softer, and supple compared to before. My wandering mind returned to the present when Ginger pinched my nipple that is slightly extended beyond the nipple shield. Ginger antagonized me for a few minutes then cleaned my throat with a passionate kiss and went back to her customer. Stephanie returned, giggled at Ginger’s lipstick imprint on my mouth, and then suggested that we start on my face.
She showed me how to cleanse my skin, and then I had to do it myself. Then a facial mask is applied and later removed. My turn to repeat her actions, but this time, she had me use a different little mask that took longer and set harder. When she had me remove the mask, I am amazed at the amount of dirt and particles that the mask removed. Next is a moisturizing cream that is absorbed into the skin within moments.
I had felt my skin before the treatments, and the difference is astounding. With my skin clear and clean she handed me another cream. Before you use this on your beard area, are you planning on going through the entire feminization promotion? I told her yes, I lost the bet fair and square, and would fully comply with the entire feminization program. Stephanie then told me that the cream would cease any beard growth immediately and permanently inhibit the growth of any facial hair with the second application. Ginger thinks you are ready for this mentally, but the decision is entirely up to you.
I opened the jar and took some on my manicured fingers and started gently massaging the cream into my beard area. The earlier application of cream during my body hair removal had almost stopped the growth. I am sure this cream will finish it off. Besides I was never fond of shaving to start with, a chore that never seems to end. As I am rubbing in the cream to my skin, I wondered about my change in attitude during these last few days.
I don’t think that I am to the point of wanting to live my remaining life as a female, but the advantages are creeping into my mind more and more. I think a lot of it came about as the change between Ginger, and I became more erotic, the simple things we did before now inadequate. When she leans in to kiss me, it seems that my body gives itself up to be taken by her. I am submissive to her wishes, voluntarily, I want and yearn to be touched and fondled. The trouble is after a kiss; the desire is instantly there to do it again, once seeming never to be enough.
Stephanie after watching me rub the cream into my beard area decides that the next step is called for now. She leans me back in the stylist chair, fusses with my nipple shields, removing the barbell that holds the shield in place. There are plenty of nice sensations that pulse through my breast, but no pain, the hole apparently completely healed up. She takes another jar, a clear liquid and softly rubs the nipple with the liquid, my nipples harden up and swell to a quite noticeable level.
Ginger’s nipples get that large when I play with them, but it takes quite a lot of playing to get this effect. Stephanie rubs the liquid on the nipples three times as the liquid vanishes into the skin almost instantly. After the third application, she replaces the nipple shield fitting the barbell back in place. Looking down at my nipple, the swelling is still present pushing the end of the nipple noticeably above the shield. Several minutes later it is still there, although it now seems to pulsate a little.
I close my eyes and enjoy the sensations, then becoming aware that I now have to go to the bathroom. I ask Stephanie for a robe, not ready yet to dash across the salon nude so that I could use the restroom. I have to slip on my heels also since walking without my heels causes me pain in my calves. I sway my way to the bathroom and pull up my robe to pee. I gingerly place my butt on the toilet and reach down to my crotch to turn the valve so that my bladder can empty. It seems to take forever, but finally, the stream of liquid ceases. I blot myself with toilet paper, then straighten my robe to return to Stephanie.
The return trip more relaxed since the pressing need is gone. Stephanie giggles as I return, telling me that I move pretty fast for a female in heels. We chat for a while, she seems more down to earth than some of the other girls, caring what people think and want to do. We talk about how I got myself into this predicament and what my feelings are about the treatments and procedures. I confess to her that I anticipate that I will be a fully functional female before this is over and in a way I welcome the change.
It has shown me a side of myself that I never acknowledged or even knew existed. But the deciding factor has been the change in the relationship between Ginger and me. The love seems real, the caring deeper and more realistic, like two soul mates that have finally met and decided to live the rest of their lives together. To be honest, I will have to admit that besides all of these reasons, I have found that I like dressing and acting like a female.
The only thing that scares me a little is whether the real me will survive the extreme femininity that is sure to surface in the remaining procedures. I know Victoria is here to stay, but at what cost. Stephanie suggested that the feminine me is the real person here. I was thinking about that statement as I made my way home.
Tonight is no exception after we returned home I am put through the wringer both physically and mentally, every part of my body betraying me as it succumbed to Ginger’s attention. Dressed in our nighties, I snuggled next to her so that I could be near the one I love. She spooned my back as her hands made sure that my nipples were not jealous. Through the mush in my mind, I realized that Victoria is helplessly in love with Ginger and wanted nothing more than to be the wife in the relationship. Victoria is in control now; Victor is lost swimming somewhere in this vast ocean.
Friday Day Nine
Another morning, although I am not as apprehensive as before about the day’s activities. I seem to accept my fate now, by the time the promotional treatments are over, I will be a female in all ways except the male appendage hid in my panties. Each day the female mindset becomes a little more entrenched, the desire to dress nicely and be pretty a constant thought now.
I dress in one of my outfits from previous days, then head toward the kitchen. Some fruit and orange juice is all I desire this morning. The corset has done its job, my stomach is now much smaller, only requiring basic nutrition. Every bite I now take is food for my figure if it is high-calorie food, I eat less of it. I want my clothes to fit the feminine figure that I now possess. The fruit and juice are just enough to satisfy my hunger, now to make my way to the salon and today’s lesson in femininity.
Since the promotion had started, Ginger has been going in early to work. The idea is such a success that all of the stylists now are booked solid. Francine has hired more stylists and cosmetologists to handle the appointments, but the demand has even exceeded that level of business. As I walk in the door of the salon, dressed in a short skirt, four-inch heels, and a sweater I see the line at the reception desk. Most are trying to schedule the first appointment for the promotion. I hear one of the stylists tell them that the first vacancy is three weeks away.
One lady there with her significant other asks if the promotion really works, Ginger the one she is talking to about the program. Ginger smiles at me; I know that she is going to tell the lady about me, but I am proud to be a female, at least, in looks. Ginger tells me to come closer and whispers to the lady that Victor here is one of the people enrolled in the Ten Days of Femininity, do you have any doubts as to the success of the program.
The lady is open mouthed as she signs up for the promotion; her spouse swallows hard dreading the outcome of her actions. He is small and cute, and will make a quite attractive addition to the female ranks.
A new stylist takes my hand and leads me away to a different room in the very back of the salon. I am shown to a chair and given headphones to wear. After I get them situated so that my earrings are not caught in the earpiece, her voice comes over the phones loud and clear. She explains that my voice is the target for today, not just my inflection but my vocabulary. She will play a word spoken in a feminine voice; I am to repeat it as close to the way it sounds as I can. Then another word will come as the words a female normally uses in her conversations are covered.
I listen and try to repeat the word. I can hear my response clearly, the first few don’t sound very feminine, but Tracy doesn’t correct me. As I get into the program, she comes in with little suggestions, like use your throat and upper chest, say the word softer with less volume, and pitch your voice up at the end of the word. After an hour of this, I sound less masculine, at least to myself, and am not thinking of what I am doing, the words coming out naturally.
Then she switches to full sentences using a lot of the same words. After going through the full tape, she asks me to remove the headphones and talk to her about my experiences at the salon, using a lot of the words that we have just been going over. The conversation is stilted for a while until I relax and sort of get into it. I am telling her of the kissing episodes with Ginger and notice Ginger standing in the doorway listening to me. Tracy stops the recording of my efforts and backs it up to replay a part of it. The voice I hear is pretty much feminine, I notice a place or two that I could have used a more feminine word, but overall I sound like a woman.
Ginger decides that a reward is warranted, after the kiss, I can’t even talk. Tracy tells her that she doesn’t need that kind of help, and bans Ginger from the rest of my lesson. Ginger leaves the room; her sad puppy dog look seeking some consolation, but Tracy giggling at her antics just tells her to get.
There is a small break for nourishment, an apple, and a diet coke are my rewards, then back at it. The next segment is learning the sing-song voice pattern of females. She gives me a book with hundreds of sentences using a lot of the same words I used this morning, but in sentences that might have been said by a female. I am to read them aloud but not use the flat monotone pitch of a male.
Her suggestion is to look at the sentence, seeing where I could add emphasis to the words and pitch my voice that way. One of the examples is about a woman describing a beautiful dress that she wants. The emphasis being on the words that the woman uses to describe her beautiful dress, gorgeous, plunging neckline, bias cut, fitted at the waist, and a dreamy ecru color. I read the sentences letting my voice respond to the excitement of the speaker of the voice. Tracy smiled after the first few sentences, knowing that I had figured it out.
I did thirty minutes of the sing-song training then Tracy decided just to talk among ourselves. We talked about feminine things, about my hair, my nails, the blasted corset, and my heels. She only had to correct me a couple of times on poor choice of words or my slipping back into the male monotone. When I left the salon, I told Ginger I would see her at home and gave her an ‘I will miss you kiss’ then told her not to be late. My voice thrilled her, and I had to fight off an over exuberant lover to make my escape. I know the other girls in the salon get a kick out of our antics with regards to each other.
I made my way home thinking of my business on the side trying to decide what to do about it. Ever since the longer nails were put on, I haven’t been able to type or use the computer keyboard. From the start, I had put a portion of the money I made aside for later in life. Now I had to decide on ending my business if I am going to continue with the female lifestyle. I know I could shorten my nails some and still do my business, but my heart isn’t in it anymore.
I got home and called a couple of my steady customers telling them of my decision to quit doing the work. They were sorry to hear it but glad I had been upfront with them. Midway thru the afternoon, I made a decision to stick my neck out and send part of the story that I had written about my recent exploits to a female friend from college. Shirley is an executive in a publishing business now making big bucks managing some authors that had been signed to contract.
Before the nails I had gotten some of my exploits typed up in Word, so I sent that portion to her. I asked that she read it and give me her opinion, on whether I might make a small living from writing more. I knew it was taking a big chance, so many really good authors can’t get their work published, how did I think I was good enough to buck that trend.
I started dinner, wanting to make tonight special, only one more day of the promotion to go. I made a salad with about ten different vegetables, served with Italian dressing and Chicken Breast grilled under the broiler. I used a lot of herbs to season the chicken, cooked it slowly, turning it often to make sure the seasonings got absorbed into the meat. I made rice pudding from scratch, then topped it with Mandarin orange slices, with a tinge of Cinnamon for spice. Right before I served the salad I warmed the dressing so the minute it smothered the vegetables it would wilt them some.
Ginger is in heaven as I served each dish, not knowing whether to pursue me or eat the dinner. I had dressed in a nightie with a matching diaphanous robe my hair in an up do with matching ribbons trailing from the curls to my shoulders. Lots of lipstick, talking in my new soft feminine voice, doing everything I could do to seduce her while she ate. As I set down a dish my arm would graze her shoulder or breast, it was mean to tease her, but I got turned almost as much as she did from the movement.
Since I was now laying on my bed, sans the robe with Ginger straddling my body with her head glued to my nipple, I would say the seduction is an unqualified success. She missed no erogenous spots, taking way too long at each location. I am as excited as I have ever been, my body trying everything it could to get closer to her. At one point I am rubbing her vagina with my groin moaning and pushing up with my legs. Ginger chuckled at my antics, calling me a wanton slut. I admitted to being one, but she has to do something, I can’t take it anymore.
She started again on my nipples, holding me down with her hands so I couldn’t move. That made what she was doing to my nipples even more erotic. She ran her tongue around my nipple, bit lightly on the end of it, then tried to take my entire nipple deep into her mouth. I was thrashing around on the bed, totally out of control. She would let me cool off a little then start over again, kisses for my lips, quite often nibbling on my lips then moving to my nipples. They were already rock hard, seemingly reaching for someone to suck on them.
I tried to get her to stop, my mind was already pure gush, my nipples are hard, the butterflies in my stomach not behaving at all. She told me she would stop if I admitted to being female and wanting to live as one for the rest of my life. I hesitated, but her nibbling on my nipple again made the words come gushing out of my mouth.
“Yes. I am a girly gurl and want to stay that way for eternity.” She smiled, and we have one more day of the promotion left, I wonder what I can have you agree to after the remaining day. I almost said that I will agree to anything but decide that might not be the smartest thing to do. She smiled and stopped the attacks on my over sensitive protrusions. I asked her if she is going to leave me like this, her one-word response, yep.
Many a time she had been on such a high that she wanted to do more things with me, but you never wanted to prolong the moment. You pleased me sexually, you always have. But a female sometimes wants to prolong the good feeling by cuddling or just holding on to your lover savoring the good feelings to make the moment last forever. Now you have the partial body of a female and are developing the same desires to be cuddled, to be held, to be cared for by someone. By the end of the promotion, you will be as one with me, two female lovers.
Saturday Day Ten
She held me in her arms late into the night, I felt comforted, cared for and loved. I regretted leaving the bed the next morning, a more pressing need the only reason I got up. Ginger had already left for work; the promotion had tripled business for the salon, with her booked solid for months to come.
I dressed in one of the outfits that I had worn home from the salon and made my way there. Only a couple of minutes late, I had to wait until they handled the line of customers at the reception desk. Stephanie is the stylist for today, I am led off to a treatment room, this time passing through a salon that is jam packed with customers. She didn’t make me strip but did ask if any of my piercings are sore. I responded only my nipples but then told her that is only because a certain individual won’t leave them alone. Stephanie giggles, since your transformation Ginger, has been a sex starved teenager. All she talks about is you, how pretty you are, how much you have changed. She loves you more this way if that is even possible.
Stephanie opened a large case filled with makeup. It had smaller than usual containers of every color and kind of cosmetic imaginable. She went through them picking shades that were right for my skin color. After she had picked a full complement and placed them on a table in front of me, she picked up one of them and handed it to me. It is foundation, the shade nearly identical to my skin color. She showed me how to apply it; then the powder used to set the foundation. This instruction went on, as she progressed through each cosmetic on the table. If I did it wrong, she made me take it all off and start over. I finally made it through the entire array of cosmetics.
The image in the mirror is a very feminine me; I wondered what Ginger will say when she sees me. I asked Stephanie why Ginger had not been in this morning. She smiled and told me that she is banned from seeing me until I am finished. Otherwise, I doubt that you would have ever completed your makeup. I will get her, let her get everything out of her system and then you can redo your makeup one more time.
Stephanie left, a minute later the door swung open with a clunk, and Ginger attacked me. The makeup I worked so hard on is smeared beyond recognition within minutes. I just sat there; I couldn’t do anything with her arms and hands all over me. Besides, it is hard to talk with someone’s tongue half way down your throat. Along with Stephanie, I giggled at Ginger’s enthusiasm over my looks.
As is common with any wind-up toys they eventually wear down; apparently Ginger had reached that point. She is sitting on my lap with her mouth glued to mine. Stephanie finally dragged her from the room, the returned a few minutes later. I had already started removing the smeared makeup and am soon ready to start over. While I applied the new makeup, Stephanie watched, asking me what I am going to do after the transformation.
She seemed genuinely concerned as to my future. I told her I had quit the business since it is either that or I would have to shorten my nails. I love my nails, so the business is no longer. I have notified most of my customers, a couple more to go then that phase of my life is over. Ginger wants me to be a full-time wife; that seems right somehow, but I still need something to occupy some of my time. I have written some of my escapades as a new female, I hope that someone might want to read them, I have a voice to word software program so I can dictate the stories instead of typing them.
Stephanie asked if I might be interested in a part-time job at the salon as a receptionist. The pay is not bad, and you get to meet all kinds of interesting people, you also get free beauty services. I told her that I would like that, but let’s keep it a secret between us for a couple more days. I want to finish the treatment, and then confront Ginger on what she wants from me. I know she has changed the procedures around from the original ten days of femininity I am blonde but not quite that air headed. Stephanie figured I had tweaked to the change in procedures, but since you went along with everything, I figured you wanted the changes.
I told her that all of this has brought us closer together than we have ever been, the relationship is more caring, the emotions more sincere and on the surface, not hidden or denied because of some idiotic reason. After the first few days I was hooked, I knew I had lost when my breasts came to be. The sensations so real and erotic from just a brush or touch from her hands or lips. After that, it was all downhill. Like I was on a pair of skis hurtling down the slope with snow flying up and caressing my cheeks. The feeling so warming and exhilarating.
Before she sent me home, she told me what tomorrow’s session dealt with, wanting me to think it through thoroughly before I came in the morning. Since you have been so good, this is a bonus treatment one that will finish the transformation to female. She will perform the procedure, herself, but as it is currently set up it is a long lasting one, not being reversible for at least nine months. She thinks it is right for me, but she does not live in my body. I was kissed and hugged and sent on my way. As I passed through the salon, I had to hurry before Ginger saw me. I made it to my car and drove home. I had a lot to think about tonight.
I walked into the house, and my cell phone started ringing. I answered the call and listened as Shirley told me what she thought of my story. We chatted for quite some time, and I agreed to meet her tomorrow at lunch. She was in town to possibly sign a new author and meet with another one to pick up a story. We agreed to meet at two o’clock since Stephanie had told me I should be done by twelve-thirty. Yes the salon had started staying open on Sundays, the promotion so popular it was almost a necessity. I gave her directions to a quiet little restaurant that is out of the way.
I went to my office and took out a tape recorder and continued my ramblings as I cleaned up the house a little and then made dinner. Two tapes later I used a program to convert the spoken word to print and then emailed her the new additions to the story. I had dinner all prepared, made sure my makeup is perfect, well, at least, the best I could do, and then waited for Ginger.
I got a call from her; she is running late due to traffic, but she is half way home. Susan had called her earlier asking how I am doing, wanting to know if I was showing signs of pregnancy yet. Ginger asked me to set another place for dinner since Susan will be joining us; she can’t wait to see the changes in you. I liked Susan, one more for dinner is no problem, besides it is better to have her here while Ginger is around than just the two of us.
I decided to have a little fun and raced upstairs to retrieve a small pillow and placed in front of my corset, using a panty girdle to hold it in place. I did say race, but that is relative since I had four-inch heels on and nobody races anywhere with heels on. I came back down and looked in the hall mirror, yes just enough showing to be seen, but not grossly obvious. I added another place setting for dinner, then checked on supper. About that time the front door opened and Ginger came in followed by Susan. Of course, Ginger had to greet her spouse appropriately by kissing me on the lips, a quick bit of tongue is also employed.
Susan is standing by the side of Ginger with her hand over her mouth. She is giggling but soon broke into outright laughing. She stepped up to me and asked if the baby is a boy or a girl. I told her that it was twins, one of each. I had to reach out and catch Ginger because she fainted dead away. Susan helped me get her to the couch, giggling all the way. She pointed and asked really, I told her no, just something to teach my hubby wife a lesson. I left her to get a washcloth to revive my spouse, smiling all the way.
Dinner went well, Susan didn’t eat much, too interested in my looks and exploits. Ginger kept giving me the evil eye; I think my little joke hit her pretty hard. Three hours later Susan left for home, asking Ginger and me if she could have lunch with me sometime. I just looked at Ginger; she arranged the first lunch date, Tuesday of next week. I cleaned up the dinner dishes and put the leftovers in the refrigerator. I went to my study, checked my email and found one from my school friend Shirley.
The email is short and sweet. Can we switch the lunch date to a dinner tomorrow and talk over your scribblings. I told her that would not be a problem, same place as before; it is not too far for me to drive. I decided to tell Ginger only part of the story until I see what she thinks of my work. Ginger is just coming out of the bathroom, drying her hair and a towel around her body. I slip up to her telling her I love fresh, clean bodies and in one motion jerk her towel away. She squeals and runs for the bed, even in heels I manage to catch her pinning her down on the bed. She knows I want revenge but tries valiantly to talk me out of it.
Within ten minutes I have her pleading with me to stop. I keep saying that I can’t understand her, does she really want me to continue all night. She sighs, frantically slapping the bed with her one free hand. Fortunately, that is all she can hit is the bed, as I have a firm grip on her lower arm. I count seven orgasms over the next thirty minutes, as she comes she is suddenly quiet, but then resumes her frustrations to get me to stop before the next one hits her.
I will probably pay for this tomorrow; Ginger has a long memory and a devious mind. Her response will probably make this seem like a cake walk, but a wife has to have some fun in life. On the last orgasm, I told her that I have a meeting with one of my bigger customers at dinner tomorrow night, one that I can’t postpone. It should only take an hour or two, so I should be home before eight. She asks if my appearance will make for a problem, I told her I don’t know I will just have to wait and see. I did tell her that her dinner will be in the oven, properly warmed for her timed to be ready at six.
I guess I had managed to wear her out since she cuddled me and we both fell asleep quickly. The next morning she is up especially early, I got a kiss with a big smile, and she left for work. I dragged my feet a little, then got dressed and ready to face my last ordeal, well by now they were becoming more of a treat than an ordeal.
Stephanie is waiting for me as I enter, leading me to a treatment room. She asked what happened last night; Ginger has been on a mission ever since she got her this morning. I told her briefly what had happened; then she asked me if I had any concerns about going further with the transformation. I told her no, it is full speed ahead. Stephanie smiled, that is good because you are about to ride the train all the way to the end. I had not been paying attention to what she was doing, but when the last strap secured my wrists to the side of the table, I knew it would be strictly Ginger’s choice from here on. My legs are lifted into the stirrups and spread wide, and I do mean wide.
Ginger entered the room, played with my breasts; I mean nipples, and then started kissing me all over. I would soon be in the same position as Ginger last night, but there is no way out. Then after she had me excited, she left the room. Stephanie slipped a blindfold over my eyes, and someone started working on my groin. I felt the apparatus that had been fitted several days ago taken off; then the area thoroughly cleaned with alcohol. The coldness of the cleaner making anything I had down there shrivel up to nothing.
They used the numbing spray again, and that is all she wrote. I couldn’t see anything, feel anything, as they worked down there. I had a feeling that they weren’t covering the area up with some fake vagina, this time, a couple of times it seemed they were stretching my skin quite a bit, but I couldn’t be sure. It seemed like hours, but probably isn’t, before they applied a skin like covering to my groin. Again with the stretching and then a cold liquid applied to the edges of my groin. I felt some sensations returning to the area; I guess the numbing spray is wearing off a little. Then nothing as all touching and feeling just stops.
A warm feeling between my legs signals that someone is back. The warmness, spreading throughout the entire groin area. The heat goes on for quite some time; I do feel someone checking on me since the area is touched from time to time like they are checking to see if is dry. Then Stephanie comes back in and takes off my blindfold. Unfortunately, she had laid a towel over that area to cover what they had done.
She takes my hand and starts explaining what has happened. The procedure is new to the salon but has been tested extensively in the research department for several years. Your testicles have been pushed back up into your body, a place they originally occupied. Then your penis and sac are stretched and using a surgical adhesive glued to the underside of your groin area. This will result in the two skins adhesion to each other, so you will now have to sit to urinate from now on.
A quick look at me to see how I had handled that statement. Since I had a small smile on my face, she went on. The techy girls have also developed a skin-like material that can be glued on with surgical glue that breathes like real skin. There is no need to remove it for the skin underneath to stay viable. In fact, the two skins usually fuse together in the first few weeks leaving just one layer of skin, like is normal for a human. With this new skin, we created a vulva for you; that is totally realistic. As the skins fuse, you will have feeling there just like a real female.
You can accept a dildo or penis up to nine inches in length, But I suggest that you refrain from the most well-built male of the species at least until you get some activity there. Just like in SRS you have to use a stint to keep the opening from closing up. That will be Ginger’s job, a task that I might add she is anxiously awaiting the chance to perform. To keep the stint in place Ginger has purchased a chastity device for you, I think more to keep you excited than to control your activity. When you have intercourse or have an orgasm, you will discharge from your penis as you used to, but instead of leaving the area it will stay in your vulva, at least until you stand up.
To minimize the leaking from happening you will need to become quite friendly with tampons. One inserted after an orgasm will keep the fluid contained until you can shower or bathe and get the fluid out. It will also probably require regular douching to keep all things sweet and inviting. You are now, except for pregnancy, a normal female both in looks and activity. The only difference is that in a female, penetration is usually more into the body while in your case it is along the bottom of your groin. In either case, it won’t be noticed by your partner.
I am sure you are aware, but in case you have not thought about it, you are also subject to all things that can go wrong in a relationship including rape. With Ginger, you will not have to worry, but out in society, things can and will go wrong at some point in time. That I think is one reason Ginger would like you to be locked up. She said that with one huge smile on her face, I am sure you know of several others without tasking the brain much.
I don’t think you will ever want it removed, but to all, we do the procedure to, we have to inform them it can be removed, but will require surgery, it takes a scalpel and numerous stitches to reverse the procedure. Why am I telling you this instead of Ginger, she is scared to death that she has asked too much of you. I myself, don’t think so, but she feels that she might have pushed too hard, made a few too many changes, and is scared she has damaged her relationship with you. I told her I would explain everything, how she feels and let you decide what you want to do.
You do remember me asking you many times if this is what you wanted, I took you for your word. Incidentally, your conversations were recorded as we do on all matters that are important. I feel this is how you should have been, just never had the guts or reason to approach this subject. I can tell you, her love for you knows no limits, but I am sure you are aware of that. Lay here a while, think everything thru and then I will be back in about thirty minutes for your decision. I personally suggest adding a shot to make your breasts real; I am so sure of your inner being that is the only option you should pursue. The shot has nothing to do with Ginger, my suggestion and present for finally being the person you should have been.
As she got ready to leave, I asked her to bring the shot back, and to tell Ginger that I will accept her apology for doing this to me, but it will probably take until she dies to make fully up for all of this. I expect to be treated like a well to do wife, my every need and desire handled in an efficient and prompt manner. Then I mentioned to Stephanie that as horny as I am now she better bring the chastity device with her and a strong lock. Stephanie left the room after giving me a big hug giggling like crazy. Since I am a bad girl, she is going to keep the key for at least a month. My mouth is wide open; she wouldn’t do that to me would she, a whole month, aaaaagh.
Stephanie did leave me to think for quite some time to be sure that is what I truly desired; I know she cares about me, her willingness to explain everything ten times or more a sure sign of someone that doesn’t want me hurt. When she re-entered carrying a syringe, I told her that all of this I wanted more than anything. The love that Ginger and I have has transformed into something much deeper and romantic. I want to take care of her, to be her wife and lover, and I want this to be for the rest of our lives. She turned off her tape recorder, smiled at me, just in case your memory goes bad.
It turns out the syringe is actually two and I received the contents in each of my breasts. I know nothing could happen that fast, but it seemed like it to my body. I know my nipples got rock hard, my nipple shields bulging with the nipple trying to get through. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a long slender belt with two objects attached to it.
She said all of the girls of the salon had voted to lock me up, so that when the key is obtained Ginger and I will have the time of our lives. I started to remark that this is not necessary but Stephanie pushed a towel in my mouth, and that ended my comment. Since I was tied down, there is nothing I could do to stop her. She lubricated both tubes really well then lifted my ass a little to get the end under my butt. She slowly inserted each tube slowly whispering into my ear that my lover can’t wait, it has been so long, and she wants you so much.
I looked at her with disgust; she is having fun at my expense, and enjoying it way too much. Then she decides that Ginger might get here before she finishes and pushes the rest of the plug in quickly. I try to take in a deep breath as it fills me completely but am having trouble focusing. The other plug/tube is shoved into my new orifice, and I start to shake. I felt it all the way in and the tip is right up against the end of my penis. Just breathing deeply, causing the two to rub together.
Trying to get my breathing under control I miss the fact that she has the belt fastened snug against my body the two tubes now trapped in me. As Ginger walks in she clicks the lock and runs from the room. Ginger stares at me lying there, a smile on her face until she sees the belt and lock. She yells for Stephanie, and she appears in the doorway.
Stephanie tells her there is no need to thank her, the extra work is complimentary. Ginger asks for the key and Stephanie tells it was mailed to her house, it might take a few days to get there. Of course, the grin on Stephanie’s face is from ear to ear. She hands Ginger a plug similar to one used for a bathroom tub and suggests that she insert it before there are any accidents. She skips out of the room giggling so loud I can hear her all the way to the front of the salon.
Ginger comes over and sits down by me, caressing my hand with manicured polished nails on it. She lays her head on my arm and apologizes to me. I grunt and groan, and she finally sees my difficulty. She removes the towel and apologizes again in case I didn’t get the first one. She loves me more than when we married if that is possible. She will take care of me and keep me in the latest fashions and always in a nice house of my choosing. She promises to keep me happy sexually also, once she gets the key to my treasures.
She release my hands and asks me to turn on my side. I can feel the plug being inserted into the tube in my butt. She smiles and tells me that I should be able to get it out myself, but if I have any trouble she will be glad to help. The rear tube is hollow allowing anything in that tube to flow out unless the stopper is in place. Too much information, but I guess a necessary bit to have.
She leaves my feet tied down and starts caressing my body. The feelings start immediately, my body arching and asking for more touching. It isn’t long until I near orgasm, but nothing is happening down there. One it apparently can’t react anymore in the way it did previously and two it gets to a certain level then quits progressing any. Ginger stops and asks if Stephanie gave me any shots, I tell her yea, one in each breast. Ginger sits down hard in the chair, and screams, Stephanie and the rest of the girls are right outside the door and laughing hysterically.
She pokes her head in thru the door and asks if there is any problem here. Ginger screams again so loud that my ears hurt a little. I was to find out later that the shots to make my breasts real also stopped my organ from secreting anything or orgasming for at least three days. Ginger had a play toy all ready for her, and she couldn’t enjoy it at all. I chuckled a little myself and Ginger whacked my arm; it is not funny. I looked at her with my puppy dog face and told her that I loved her, take me home. Since that and cuddling along with some nipple teasing is all we could do we indeed went home. It felt real good to be able to put my knees together for a minute until the dildo-like object rubbed against the tip of my penis.
As we made it out the door with me now in a dress, with four-inch heels on, mind you there is no underwear, so a lot of things were flopping around to distract me. I quickly found out that I had to walk a little bowlegged to reduce the rubbing. That in heels is a real riot, but I finally made the car. Ginger drove us home and low and behold who is sitting on our front porch waiting for our arrival, Susan.
Susan walked to the car, holding the door for me as I stepped out. She had a smirk on her face since I now appeared as a female in all ways. Gone is the male Victor that I used to be, replaced with Victoria a girly gurl. I got hugged, kissed and generally mauled as she took in my appearance. Ginger smiling as she watched Susan assault me. I tried to extricate myself from her grasp, I had the meeting with Shirley and had to get my hubby’s dinner first before I left. I dragged Susan along while I fixed Ginger her meal. We talked, Susan quite interested in my tribulations and how it felt to be a female now. I got Ginger’s meal finished and in the oven, then sent Susan on her way.
I told her I would spend some time with her tomorrow since there is no salon appointment necessary, I am already as feminine as they can make me. We agreed to meet at the mall and spend the day shopping since I am now a girly gurl, I need the wardrobe to match.
I went upstairs to change, Ginger in the bedroom getting undressed. She tried several delaying tactics including some very erotic deep kisses. I decided to tell her the truth. My dinner meeting is with a female friend from college. She handles authors for a large publishing company and thinks some of my scribblings might be marketable. Since I have closed down my business, I would like to try and get some income on the side for makeup and tampons. Ginger laughs, but tells me that she trusts me, she has to since Stephanie has me locked away in the chastity belt. I tell her I will be back as soon as the meeting is over.
I finish dressing, a light pink and burgundy sweater dress that fits all too tight, but never the less looks good on me. I grab my purse, then call Ginger over to me by the bed. I push her backward onto the bed and attack her breasts. I suck hard on then as I run my one hand over her lower lips, then switch to the other nipple before she figures out what I am doing. I nibble on this nipple and then bite it and pull back with my teeth with her nipple firmly held in my mouth. I slide a finger into her moist slit, and she orgasms. I tell her I love her, and I will be back later. I hear the moaning and the throaty sounds coming from her mouth, so I know she only is hearing part of what I said.
The drive to the restaurant is brief, and I walk in to find Shirley in the lobby waiting for me. I grab her arm and tell the hostess I have reservations for two. I follow the hostess to our table watching Shirley try to piece it all together. The chairs are held out for us, and we are seated. We both order white wines and then are left alone. She focuses on me and mouths Victor. No, Victor is no longer, I am Victoria, and I am glad to meet you. Victor died recently, but he told me so much about you, that I feel like I have known you all my life. She smiles and finally puts the puzzle together.
I ask her what she thinks about my writings. She is quiet for a minute, then said they are okay, but seem to be to science-fiction based. This can’t happen in real life, so the stories are a little far fetched. I smile and slide a little closer to her, then pick up her hand and place it on the skirt of my dress. I ask her to feel around for anything that might resemble anything male and tell me what she finds. The tables are secluded some so after checking out to see if she can be seen she feels around for my penis.
Back in college, we had experimented several times, and this feeling up of me is not something that she had never performed on me before. She finds my slit and sticks her finger gently on the chastity belt covering it, and I moan a little. Her finger retreats so fast that I am sure the nail enamel is still there between my lips. “Okay, maybe it is not as far fetched as I imagined.” Before we go any further, I wanted to know what she felt about my writing style. She likes it, a laid back factual style of writing that encourages the reader to read more of the story.
She then asked if there is more to the story than what I have sent to her. I responded yes, almost half as much as before, just not put to paper. She looked at my nails and asked how I managed to get it put to paper. I told her I have a voice to word program that works quite well, only causing me to redo a few words. She sat there for several minutes, so I let her think as the wine is brought to our table. As the waiter left, she said that the company is prepared to offer me a contract for my stories. But publicity is necessary now since the readers want to see who wrote the story. Will I be changing back into a male in the future, if so that might make life difficult? I told her what she sees is the future for me, no more Victor, permanent changes have been implemented to make what you see the real me.
She leans back in her chair and stares at me. I lean forward and tell her the breasts are permanent, the vagina is real and functioning, in fact, right now I am wearing a chastity belt as a request of my hubby/wife. She giggles and asks if before we finish dinner that she might get a look at the device. I smile and tell her sure, if I can get a peek at your nipples. Before she can respond, I tell her that they look as hard as they got in college when we fooled around. The red from her blush quickly spreads across her face and neck.
She does agree to show me her nipples in exchange for a glimpse of my chastity belt. I mention that most of the episodes in the story are true, I have piercings on most of my body parts, and my closet at home now has only female clothes for me to choose from. My voice sounds like this now, and I have to strain to get my voice back to a male register.
Other than the writing I will have a part-time job as a receptionist in a beauty salon, then a full-time job as a housewife. I love Ginger dearly; the changes are what I desire, and I approach each day with enthusiasm looking forward to what is in store for me.
If I can make a dollar or two writing, I can pay my own way for clothes and makeup, both of which I love. I wound myself down and looked over at Shirley. She handed me some contracts, explained them to me and had me sign on the bottom line. I would get a five-thousand-dollar advance on the first book, then monthly royalty checks off of the sales of the book. They had planned on most of the books going the route of e-books, but would do a limited print run for the few who insist on hard copies.
She would pay my way to Los Angeles for a photo shoot for advertising material and book covers. There I would be introduced to the company executives, and have a party to launch the book sales officially. The sales that they anticipated seemed high to me, but they are the experts when it comes to that. I asked if she is ready, then we both got up and headed to the ladies room. Luck is with me today since they had some larger than normal stalls where I could shed a few of my clothes for Shirley to see my assets.
She is intrigued as I remove the pantie so she can see my vulva. She runs a finger over the belt in front of my vaginal lips, and I moan. Quickly she withdraws the finger and looks at me, I have to explain that the belt is holding a dildo in my new pussy, and the end of that dildo is right against the tip of my penis. It has been rubbing it for the last three hours, and there is no way to release the pressure or remove the dildo. Let’s just say that I am completely frustrated and about as horny as one female can get.
Now it is your turn, let me see those nipples and tell me you are not just as excited as I am. Red all over from the blushing, she does remove her blouse and unhooks her bra. The nipples are rock hard and a shade or two darker than I remembered. I refrain from touching them, afraid that I will start something I can’t stop. Shirley and I have a long history, several years we were roommates in college, very friendly, just never romantic. I help her put her bra back on, and she helps me adjust my dress. We touch up our makeup and return to the table.
She made sure that I had copies of the contracts telling me that I should expect to fly out to LA in a week, I was welcome to bring my hubby if I wanted, maybe we could all get together for dinner and a club. I gave her a hug squeezing one of her nipples a little, then giggling as I made my way to the front. I drive home slowly, how would I explain this to Ginger, then some of the changes I have experienced recently came to mind, this is nothing even remotely as erotic as what I have already done.
I entered the house and made my way to the bedroom. Ginger is still awake and reading a book. I remove my clothes, slip a nightgown over my head and head for the bathroom to remove my makeup. Ginger asks me to bring back a brush and she will brush my hair for me. I needed to pee, then clean up, grabbing a brush and make my way to the bed. She has me sit on the floor as she sits behind me and starts brushing my hair. It feels so good, as she brushes it slowly running the whole length of the hair. I have goose pimples all over my body from the feeling.
She asks me how the meeting went, I stammer a little, not sure how to tell her about Shirley. So I start about the book deal. She listens intently, but doesn’t seem too surprised. I tell her about the advance, that part she is interested in, you can now buy some more clothes, you know a female can never have too many clothes. Then about the trip to the coast for publicity pictures and advertising. That sealed the deal, now my soulmate is on board with both feet.
It all worked out well, sales of the first book exceeded their initial projections. I am currently writing my second book, Shirley in particular can’t wait to get her hands on it. I am sure she calls me hourly asking how it is coming, well maybe not hourly, but way more than a few times a day. The best part though is my relationship with Ginger. Best friends, lovers, and anything else you can think of. That promotion they ran was one of their most successful in the chain’s history, I consider myself lucky that I got included, now loved, treasured and well cared for, nothing more could a gurl desire in life and I am definitely that gurl, that wife.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker