I was looking up ideas on what I could use as my Master’s thesis. I am a senior at the University of Florida majoring in psychology, hoping to be able to go into private practice after graduating. Currently, there are five individuals in the master’s program here, myself and four female students. All of the female students come from well to do families and have had no problem with their university expenses. I am in a little different situation, having to scrape and save to get my degree.
I have had to work all four years at part-time jobs to supplement the little money my family had set aside for my college. It is not that they didn’t want me to get a degree, but what they had set aside for me early in life turned out to be quite insufficient for the rising expenses of higher education. I lived at home, thus saving a ton of money, but the longer drive to Gainesville and back was taking a toll on my 95 Toyota. I just hoped it would hang in there until I graduated.
I had completed most of my classes required for my degree, just needing to finish my master’s thesis. Earlier in the year, I had given my faculty advisor a list of ten possible thesis papers; now I had to decide on one and pursue it. As is common with most universities their masters and doctorate students did a lot of the actual teaching of the classes, while their professors did research or overlooked the program. I typically taught three to four classes a week. Class size averaging around a hundred twenty-five students. The experience is certainly beneficial to me, but I received very little monetarily for the effort.
I had narrowed the list down to three and wanted to discuss them with the professor, so I had made an appointment for this afternoon. Dr. Lauren Westfield was an excellent teacher of psychology, never conveying that it was an absolute science, but a constantly evolving source of knowledge. There are always variations and anomalies present in any circumstances; thus, one had to learn all the basics and be able to make adjustments when the basic science turned out to be inadequate.
When I got to her office, Jennifer was still with her, but Lauren invited me to come in and join them. Jennifer was also trying to narrow down her choices, so I joined the group and listened to their discussion. Jennifer and I both had a lot of interest in gender roles and how DNA and life affected them. Jennifer was sure that gender traits were learned, not from some DNA code influencing them. I had the opposite opinion that DNA was where we learned to act like a male or female.
We are not talking about degrees of femininity or masculinity, but whether a person decided to dress as a male or female. Their sex organs decided some of that for the individual, a female having breasts usually tended to wear clothes that accommodated that facet of her body. A vagina at birth made that individual a female as far as sex goes, however, how she dressed ultimately decided her gender with regards to society.
It was Jennifer’s theory that if she was dressed as a female and made to participate in all things female that she would have a gender of a female. If she were dressed as a male and made to do things that a normal male did, she would have a gender of a male, even if her sex was female. My contention was that none of that could happen if the DNA were not there to support the learning. If her DNA were that of a normal female, she would be gender female even if she was raised as a male. The difference in our thinking had sparked several debates during class, with everybody joining in on the discussion.
Lauren liked that kind of debate, encouraging everyone to think out of the box, a cliche she used frequently. Jennifer and Lauren were discussing her ideas and how they could be used as her thesis. Lauren is telling her that she would have to defend her theories in front of a panel and that she would have to show supporting evidence for her claims.
Jennifer decided to see if I was going to weigh in on the discussion, asking if I had changed my mind in the last year. I should have remained quiet, but my upbringing necessitated answering a question if asked. I told her that DNA still had to be there to support any variances in behavior and gender. Lauren asked me to elaborate, and I explained myself as I had done in the classroom debates.
I was then asked by Dr. Westfield what I had decided to do my thesis on. I guess because we were discussing it, it sounded like a subject that I could run with and I had several ideas how to obtain some supporting evidence for my theories, so I opted to go with Gender Roles from DNA as my subject. Jennifer also decided that it was a subject she could get involved with so she picked Gender Roles from Behavior.
Lauren was delighted, pointing out that we could work together on our thesis digging up references and research, then sharing them as they pertained to our different papers. Dr. Westfield was big on research, placing a large percent of any grade on how well we had researched our topics.
Once in an assignment on abnormal psychology, she had told us that she expected for us to find every reference to the topic in the last fifty years and include it in our paper. That particular paper was seventy-five pages long and took me ten days to write. I did get an A, though, although half of the class received C’s or below. Jennifer was the other student that received an A, her paper only sixty pages long, Dr. Westfield did write on her paper that several references were missed, but her summary was excellent.
With our subjects now formalized, Jennifer and I decided to take lunch at the student union. We discussed where to go for research and papers on the subject. The idea to find all the info on the subject and then give it to the proper individual seemed to be well worth the effort. It would save a lot of time and would probably result in more research being found then if we went it alone. We both had laptops and decided to do our research and put it on USB drives so we could share the info. Even if the info did not support our thesis, it would be beneficial to be aware that it existed.
Since Jennifer had a much faster laptop, with more memory, we decided that she would handle internet research, and I would focus on research printed or published in medical journals. Up until recently most of that info was not digitized, thus it could not be found on the internet. I often wished that I had the resources of the other master candidates but had to settle for what I was left to deal with.
I have always been an excellent student, all through grade and high school, but had to work hard to achieve what I accomplished. The hard work paid off some as I did manage to obtain a small scholarship for some of my college expenses. The scholarship paid for my books and twenty-five percent of my tuition. That helped immensely, with tuition here in the thousands of dollars. My teaching some classes also helped some, although the amount of money was helpful, it only lessened the burden of my schooling expenses.
My folks had set aside funds when I was in grade school for my tuition, but due to inflation and expenses that colleges were faced with, it was inadequate. I made up the shortfall by working two to three part-time jobs most of my time at the university. I was a good enough student that working the extra jobs did not affect my grades. I maintained a 3.6-grade average while working thirty to forty hours a week. During the summer, I managed to get in a few more hours helping me to keep clothed and feed myself in a respectable manner.
I am a single child, born to a middle-class family, where both parents had to work to maintain the desired lifestyle. We had a two bedroom house in a small town about thirty miles south of Gainesville, thus the need to commute each day to classes. I was always a scrawny kid, even though I ate everything I could get my hands on. I felt that if my family could have minimized my food intake they could have retired at a considerably younger age than they managed.
Mom said it was my metabolism since I was always eating, and had way too much energy for someone my age. My given name of Ronald was always a lot more distinguished a name than how I turned out. My whole life I was viewed as younger than I actually was. Even though I was nearing twenty-two years of age I was carded everywhere, I went. Even if I dressed up in a suit and tie, the implication that I had just graduated high school was often voiced.
My name may have been somewhat lofty, but pure and simple I was a nerdy, barely masculine individual. No prominent male muscles, no macho egotistical presence, and definitely no aggressiveness in this persona that I was born with. I had no wish to be anyone other than a normal male, whatever that is. I never dressed like a female, had no interests in anything feminine, and hoped to marry one day and have a family.
We both attacked the research vigorously, and soon we had seven USB drives full of related information. We made copies of each, so we each had one, and then we started on the actual writing of the papers. It is a tedious procedure since the research had to be gone through and notes made on what each pertinent study found and how it affected our theory. For the next few weeks, I wrote the paper, worked my part-time jobs, and slept. Any other task was forgotten or postponed.
Then the bottom fell out of everything. My dad suffered a heart attack and was hospitalized. It was not as bad as first thought and within a week, he was back home, but could do nothing. Mom still worked part time to make ends meet, so she could not stay at home with him. They managed to get some free visiting nurse services for a while, but their savings were slowly withering away due to the insurance co-payments and the medicine needed for his care.
Then to add insult to injury my car decided to quit, leaving me no way to get to the University and back. I looked for another car, but nothing was in my price range, even from private ads in the local papers. The quotes on getting it repaired were laughable, twenty-two hundred dollars to fix a car that was only worth five hundred in good running order, which it was not.
It looked like my degree in Psychology was about to go up in flames. After thinking it thru I decided that I should stop and get a full-time job, maybe save a little money, but more importantly, be able to subsidize my parents so that some of their savings would be spared. Borrowing my Mom’s car I made the trip to the university to inform everybody of my decision.
I made an appointment to see Dr. Westfield so that I could inform her of my decision. She was sorry to see me quit but understood the reasons. Jennifer was coming to talk to her as I finished up, so we chatted for a while. Jennifer gave me her phone number, asking me to call her tonight; she might be able to help me. I figured it was just her being nice, but as the evening wore on, I decided to give it a try. She answered right away like she was waiting for my call. She wanted a few more details on my situation, but was pleasant and did not make fun of me or take pity with my predicament.
It was after nine in the evening, but she wanted to meet me at a local drive-in to discuss how she might be able to help. I reluctantly agreed, and forty minutes later, after picking me up, we were in one of the booths as she stated her plan to me. She would furnish me with a place to live on campus so that I would not have to commute, replace my income from the part-time jobs so I could finish my paper, and give me some money so that I could ease the strain on my parents.
I knew there was always a catch, but her request of me was much more than that. She wanted me to go through a conditioning process to prove her theory of learned gender roles. I was to be her laboratory research and trials rolled together in one. I started to refuse immediately, but she asked me to listen to the whole proposal first.
I would be required to dress as a female for the entire time, do things as a female would in normal life. Going to a beauty salon, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and dating just a partial list of tasks required. I was already standing up getting ready to leave when she told me that she would add a bonus of fifty thousand dollars if I agreed to the experience.
Of course, I sat back down to listen, since that is most likely more money than I would make in my first two years of private practice, providing I actually graduated and received my license as a psychologist. She went into more detail about the things I would have to experience to prove her theory, also a little into her ability to pay for all of this. It was apparent she was wealthier than I thought since she could write me a check tonight if I agreed to the terms of the deal. She was sure of her theory and wanted to prove conclusively that it was correct.
We had already had DNA tests done on both of us, and I was a typical XY male with no apparent chromosome deformities or anomalies. She presumed that with her conditioning, if I adapted to the female role as my true gender it would prove that a person’s gender could be determined by living the female role, in other words, behavior determining the gender of an individual.
I had mixed feelings about all of this; I could use the money and be able to finish my degree was a definite plus. If it got postponed, it would be likely that I would never obtain it since in life things come up quite often to postpone the best of intentions. The hesitation was a result of not being sure about my theory. If she was correct in her assumptions, I might end up as a member of the opposite sex, at least as far as my apparent gender, not something I ever had any intention of doing or experiencing.
My size and build would not preclude me from making a passable female, another negative to consider. I was less than husky, weighing in at 140 lbs., and my height at five foot nine inches was within bounds for a little above average female. My features were not overtly masculine, even my hands and feet were average for a male.
I asked about clothes, makeup and other necessities for a female that I had none of and knew even less about. Jennifer told me that it would all be furnished by the salon that would do my initial transformation. Then I ventured a step further asking her how long would this conditioning process require. She told me it could be tied to my obtaining my Master’s degree. When I got my degree, the conditioning would stop if I so desired. The last part of that statement made me pause, never even considering that I might choose to stay in the new gender.
Both Jennifer and I figured that it would take six to seven months to get our thesis prepared and checked, then presented. That is a long time to maintain a female presentation, but Jennifer assured me that after my transformation, it would be easy to slip into the role of a female.
No matter what the end results of my conditioning revealed, the money and clothes are mine. She had in mind that we would share an apartment, thus giving me someone to help if needed. The large lump sum would be split, half before the conditioning and half after my graduation. The money to replace my part time jobs would be paid weekly, in cash if that was alright with me.
She trusted me, so did not feel that a contract was necessary but insisted that all things female, no matter what they were are fair game in the conditioning. She named off a few to make sure that I understood, makeup, girly clothes, dating males, beauty services, and the proper female genitalia to name a few. I agreed but asked that nothing permanent be done until after my graduation. We agreed with her asking if I could start tomorrow. I told her that was fine, with her suggesting that I gather what school supplies, computers, and anything I might need except anything masculine. She would pick me up at my house tomorrow morning and get me moved into the apartment, with my first appointment later that evening.
I asked that we not tell my parents about the deal till later, other than that I was sharing an apartment to keep from buying a car. She was good with that. However, I was warned that once I started dressing as a female, there would be no backtracking for any reason until I graduated. I could see her point, and I reluctantly agreed, knowing in the back of my mind it would cause a possible conflict with my parents later in this charade.
Jennifer returned me home, but as I exited the car, she handed me a tan sweat suit to wear tomorrow. I was told no underwear, no socks, and not to shave my face in the morning. Apparently she has spent considerably more time than I on planning her research and trials on her thesis. I knew she was serious about this, but her intensity seemed more intense than I first thought.
I was handed a check as I got out of the car for twenty-five thousand dollars with the suggestion that she take me to a bank tomorrow so that I could deposit the check. She also suggested that I come up with a feminine name to use since Ronald would require a lot of explanation when I was dressed as a female from head to toe.
I entered our house, finding them in the living room watching television. I told them the good news that Jennifer was letting me share her apartment so that I could finish my degree. Mom raised an eyebrow but knew that I had enough common sense to keep out of trouble. Dad was just Dad, not caring one way or another, just as long as he was left out of any discussion or money lending. I told them I was moving tomorrow before Jennifer could change her mind.
I retired to my bedroom, packing a couple of suitcases, for appearance sake and placed them in the attic. With no male clothes in the room, hopefully my parents would presume I took them with me and not look around for them. Since my bedroom was on the second floor, and their bedroom was on the ground floor, I doubt that Mom would ever find the suitcases, only on a rare occasion that she even ventured to the attic. With that done I was prepared for tomorrow, well I was ready to be picked up, not necessarily prepared for what was going to happen to me.
I laid awake for most of the night, wondering what had got into me agreeing to this fool plan. I was essentially giving up my male sex for money, an honorable reason to help my parents, but to give up all things male for months on end, I wonder where there was any logic in this fool idea. Morning came as it normally does, I had managed to sleep a little but was still evaluating my thinking. Before I could overthink things, Jennifer was there to pick me up and kept a steady stream of mindless chatter to occupy my brain.
She took me to her apartment, helping me settle in and put what few things non-masculine in the dresser and vanity. There was a separate desk for my computer and school supplies. The decor is definitely feminine, but I found that Jennifer was always thorough in anything she did whether for school or any project she decided to participate in.
During our senior year, a lot of the psychology students helped raise some money for a local children’s hospital, Jennifer following through with a lot of local businesses for donations, raising more than all the rest of us combined. Very thorough, very much detail oriented, and often more caring than would be expected from an individual from a wealthy family.
I guess that is one of the reasons I decided to participate in this exercise to remove any masculinity from this body. I thought that down deep she wouldn’t do anything to hurt me or cause me any harm, either physically or mentally. She made us a nice lunch, a salad with guacamole and nuts. Very delicious and tasty, even though I usually detested any salad or similar product either fruit or conventional. She remarked that my sweat suit was quite attractive on me, I blushed down to my bones, never has anything I wore garnered a compliment or comment. Of course, my regular choice of clothes was quite boring, more suitable for a lifeless mannequin than a real person.
She told me to get used to the compliments since I would be on the receiving end very soon, and after my transformation, I would often be called beautiful and pretty. I doubted that but told her I would keep an open mind on such matters. She suggested that I brush my teeth, wash my face, and potty if necessary, and then we would be on our way to the salon.
It was a short drive to the salon, with a minimal conversation between us. I was too stressed to say much and Jennifer was trying to keep me from freaking out. In one of my lucid moments on the way to the salon she asked if I had come up with a female name to use. I hadn’t even thought about it, so I told her that I had no idea whatsoever on the subject. She suggested Veronica; it sounded okay, so I told her that would be fine. Until I graduated I would only answer to Veronica, Ronald was dead and buried at this point.
She stopped at a local bank, one that my parents had used in the past and we went inside to open an account for me. It turns out that the manager of this branch was a family friend of Jennifer’s. He personally took care of us and shortly I had a new account in the name of Veronica Waverly. I was issued a new debit card in that name, but he did note on the bank portion of the information that Ronald Waverly was the true identity. As far as anything public I would be known as Veronica, and any reference to my identity would be as a female.
Jennifer had mentioned to the bank manager and me that she would be getting me a student I.D. in that name to use as needed. In fact, while I was at my appointment she would be arranging for the I.D. Like I said she handles detail like no other individual I know.
The salon she was planning to use seemed to be most intimidating to me. The whole place screamed femininity to the max, from the pink décor to the pictures of all the gorgeous women along the walls. The stylists were dressed in the most erotic costumes consisting of short ruffled skirts, with sleeveless tops with a girly gurl painted on the shirt. The image of the girl definitely declared her femininity to the world. The hair on the image a mass of curls, blond, of course, and her makeup was worthy of the best Hollywood makeup artist.
I was introduced to Cheryl, who would handle my transformation today. After shaking her hand and saying hi, my eyes wandered back to all of the pictures plastered along both walls. Some of the most beautiful images of women I had seen. Cheryl whispered in my ear that I should not worry, I would be equally beautiful by the time she was done. She offered me a drink, then had me sit as she explained what I was in for over the next day and a half.
Jennifer had gone to the University’s registration office to arrange for my I.D. but had told me before she had left that she would pick me up at eleven tonight. I asked Cheryl about that, but she assured me that they were indeed open till midnight most nights, a convenience for their working customers. She went through the list of services to be performed on me, to be noted that Jennifer did not leave any stone unturned if they performed the service I would experience it if it made me more feminine.
She told me to remove my sweat suit, and she would start. I stalled when it came time to remove the pants since I had no underwear on as per Jennifer’s instructions. Cheryl reassured me that since most of the customers in the salon are male, it would not be a problem. Soon she would have me in the right gender, courtesy of modern technology. As my mind made the connection, I looked quickly around the salon to see if the customers were male or female. To me, they were female, but if the customers were actually male I was doomed, for with my features and obvious lack of macho my apparent gender would shortly be of the feminine persuasion.
I was apparently to be waxed first, a necessity so that the proper female body parts can be added to my figure. I made it through the ordeal as every follicle on my body had its hair ripped out of its comfortable home, and then Cheryl rubbed my skin with the most amazing cream. If a human could purr, I would be the loudest cat on the block. I swallowed hard when she also told me that the cream would keep any future hair growth from occurring.
Next, she moved on to my ears, piercing each ear three times, two studs and a hoop adorned each ear lobe. She used a laser to do the piercing, no healing time required and I would never have to worry about the holes closing up. Not something I wanted to hear, but after the holes are in it is too late to be concerned. The earrings did feel good as the hoops tickled my neck as I moved my head. While she was working on my face, she eliminated my eyebrows leaving only a two hair wide pencil arch for my eyebrows. It changed my image more than I would like to admit. I would be required to use an eyebrow pencil to fill them in, the narrow arch just to define the proper shape.
Next was my beard; the salon had developed a cream that dissolves the hair follicle similar to the cream they use on my body after waxing. Two applications, a week apart, and my beard would be no longer, another nail in my coffin. Deep down I was panicking a little; femininity was approaching at warp speed, and my defenses were not prepared. I think Cheryl detected a little apprehension and kept me talking thus my mind was not worrying about the upcoming consequences of my treatments.
From the face, she went to adding curves in the right places, as I stared at the image from the mirror in front of me. I had been at the salon for only two hours and all I saw in my reflection was a beautiful female. I can imagine what a couple of days holds in store for me. Cheryl made several marks with a marking pen on my chest around my nipples, then two very realistic breasts were removed from their boxes and placed on my chest. The weight was considerable, a lot more than I expected from the fleshy objects.
She removed the right one and put a clamp on that nipple, the effect making me wince and also made the nipple swell up and get erect. Then glue was added to the back of the breast form, and in one smooth motion removed the clamp and pushed the fake breast into place. She held it there for several minutes, making sure it was tight against my chest. When she released the form, the breast sagged from the weight, pulling some of my flesh along with it, just like a female breast would sag after being slipped out of its bra.
The same was done with the left breast, now I had a sizable rack. A phrase some of my male friends used to talk about a female’s boobs. I was not particularly fond of the label now, though. Cheryl approached me telling me that she had to check if they were activated properly and squeezed my nipples between her thumb and finger. I felt the touch and the accompanying pleasure shot through my body, wondering how any of this is possible. The pleasure part came before the wondering how it was possible, though since the feelings were still reverberating through my body fifteen minutes after my nipples were touched.
Cheryl confided in me that the breast is full of tiny sensors that upon being touched feed the touch to my skin. The nipples are the center of this touch relay system, so when I touch your nipple the feeling goes directly to your nipple as if I was touching it directly. A little of the feeling is dispersed to the surrounding tissue making it seem like someone is caressing your nipple and breast at the same time.
Then she pinched a nipple and twisted it slightly as she kneaded the fake breast and I came. I actually had an orgasm from having my breast played with. My face was redder than if I had laid in the sun all day. I asked if I could use the bathroom so that I could clean up, but she told me to wait. Her next target was my groin, and since she had to clean the area with antiseptic, she would handle the cleanup of my little accident. I blushed some more but nodded for her to continue. She used some body wipes to clean the area first; then an alcohol-treated wipe to further clean the area.
She then picked up a can of spray and coated my groin in the cooling liquid. My male organ was liberally coated except for the tip of my penis. I was lying back and could not see what she was doing, just felt light touching as she manipulated my organ. Then a funny looking piece of flesh with a little hair attached was fitted in place. More adjusting and then I could feel something cool being coated on my penis. That was followed by it being pushed and prodded into a sheath, at least, that was what it felt like.
Cheryl then began stretching the skin like appliance over the rest of my groin, with more of the cool liquid being applied to quite a few areas of the appliance. She seemed to finish her work there and started adding some paste to the seams around my breasts and the new area presumably my vulva or vagina. She used a portable hair dryer to dry the makeup, then pronounced me ready for my unveiling. She held a larger mirror tilted toward me so that I could see my groin and I promptly fainted.
As I came to, she smiled at me; then held the mirror again, so I could look. All the time she was talking to me, assuring that my new equipment was workable and that yes it was now indeed mine, As far as gender was concerned I was now a card carrying member of the female sex. All of this and I had been at the salon for only three hours. Next on the agenda was efforts to tame my waist.
Cheryl had me stand and wrapped a corset around my waist. She hooked the front busk from slightly above my groin to under my breasts. The corset had half cups to support my breasts and was done in Ecru satin and lace. The grip however that it exerted on my waist felt like it was made of steel. She tightened the laces for a while, then had me move around to settle the corset in around my body. Then she had me grab a pair of rings above my head and stand on my tip toes. She hit a switch, and the rings raised up stretching my body to the max. She quickly tightened the corset again, this time, the corset felt like it was going to cut me in two.
A rest period again with my arms down at my sides, which only made the corset feel even tighter since the fat that had got stretched out when I had grabbed the rings had no place to go with the corset tightened. Several more efforts to tighten the corset and she proclaimed the corset flaps are touching. I now had a waist, twenty-four inches to be specific with a lot of the extra skin and fat pushed to my breasts and hips. My chest was now thirty-six inches and my hips thirty-four. Cheryl told me that with wearing the corset all the time, any additional fat would be deposited in my hips and bust.
Then reality set in, I would be wearing the corset 24/7 for quite some time, I know I had agreed to all things feminine, but this might take more than a day or two to adjust to. I ended up taking shallow breaths and more often to keep from fainting in the corset. I know that anything physical would be impossible with the corset since I would not be able to get sufficient air to maintain consciousness.
Cheryl retrieved some clothes for me to wear home tonight, and for the return trip tomorrow morning. I expected a dress but was surprised to get pants and a tank top. With the corset, I didn’t need a bra, although my titties felt like they would pop out at any time from the corset cups. I did receive a pair of panties, bikini cut I was told and a pair of knee-highs. The hosiery was so that I could slip my feet into the heels that I was given. Lucky for me they had a block heel, three inches in height in basic black.
I stumbled around a little, but by the time Jennifer arrived to take me to the apartment I was managing. Jennifer was very complimentary about my looks, with me blushing at this new attention I was receiving. The ride home was quiet though she did show me the temporary student I.D. she had got me. The permanent one would arrive in a week after my picture had been submitted to the University.
When we got into the apartment, she did ask how I was holding up. I told her, okay, but all the changes are still a little overwhelming to me. She understood a natural reaction to sudden and drastic changes. She did offer me one last chance to reconsider my agreement to her deal. If I wanted to call it off she would not be upset; she does realize how much this is impacting the male me. I told her that I was sure that I wanted to go through with this, fearing that it might be the only way for me to get my degree. I told her I will cooperate, but asked that she give me a day or two to fully accept the changes as they come about.
She agreed but told me not to postpone accepting my fate. The longer you delay the decision to accept the femininity the harder it is going to be on you. I am not asking you to act girly suddenly, just to accept that for the near future you are a female and need to act that way. She had picked up some Chinese take-out earlier, so we feasted on rice and various oriental meats and sauces. I was shown what I had to do every night as my female beauty regime and after slipping on a nightie went to bed.
Jennifer’s bedroom was quite large with two canopy beds on opposite ends of the room. The private bathroom was on a wall on one side of the room, and the huge walk-in closet was on the opposite wall. The walk-in closet was indeed larger than my bedroom back home. My side had a few clothes but mainly was empty. Jennifer told me that the salon would furnish a lot of my clothes, but I would be expected to shop for a lot of my own clothes to allow me to make my wardrobe a little more personal. I got a hug from her, and I slipped into the bed, I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but soon I slipped into dreamland.
My new appendages did change my sleeping style, normally I slept on my stomach, but with breasts that can be uncomfortable, and so after a few minutes I turned on my side and conked out. I woke to Jennifer gently prodding me to get up. She whispered that my appointment was in an hour, and I had to take a shower and dress. She would drop me off at the salon and pick me up tonight after they finished their work.
The shower hitting my breasts felt weird, so I made it a quick one. Jennifer did have to loosen the corset laces before I could get it off to take a shower. I was told to wear the same clothes as last night, leaving my hair and lack of makeup that would be handled today at the salon. They would also do my corset up after I arrived at the salon. I was doing a lot of sighing recently and added another one to my recent actions. I was handed a banana and a cup of coffee and we were off. Although I am not a usual fruit connoisseur, the banana actually tasted good.
When we arrived, Jennifer asked me once more if I had changed my mind, this was my last chance to withdraw. The treatments today would seal my fate as female for the duration of the deal. I looked down at my body and wondered how it could be much more female than it was.
Cheryl was waiting for me, with a smile spread ear to ear. She took my hand and proceeded to take me back to her den for my final change to female. I was asked to strip, then was handed a cape to keep me from being obscene. Believe me; it was barely able to accomplish the feat. I was constantly tugging a part of it trying to move some non-existent piece of material to cover part of me. She broke out in giggles several times, but ultimately stay focused as she worked with my hair. The addition of hair extensions was her goal, perfectly matched to my existing hair color, in a shade of dark blonde. The only problem I saw with them was their length. I would have hair below my shoulder blades, and from the amount, she was adding plenty of it. That process alone took almost three hours, the last hour I was spared some of the tedious procedure when another technician came in to work on my nails.
Cheryl was still working on my hair, but Beverly started on my nails focusing my attention on what she was doing. My nails were cleaned, the cuticles pushed back and then extensions glued to my existing nails. The length of the extensions was what caught my attention. They extended three-quarters of an inch past my normal nail length. I was told not to worry, the glue was space age technology and would not allow the nails to come loose from my own nails. That was not a comforting thought, nails this long will take some getting used to.
Then a base coat was added to the nail, after drying three coats of bright red polish, each layer dried before the next was added. Then a high-gloss top coat finished off the nails. The first time I reached to scratch my nose, I almost stuck my nail in my eye. They did have a very feminizing effect on my hands, making them appear daintier and more delicate. I caught myself looking at my hands quite often that afternoon, mesmerized by their appearance. After Cheryl had finished with the hair extensions, she cleaned up and then leaned back my chair and washed and conditioned my hair.
She toweled dried it and returned the chair to the upright position. She sectioned the hair and then began cutting it, she was not removing much of it, but layering it and creating a female style. After that was completed, a rack containing curlers was wheeled in, and she promptly wound the hair on a multitude of curlers. A portable dryer was wheeled over and positioned above my head, and I quickly felt the warm air cascading over my curler wound hair. As my hair is drying she put up the leg rests on the chair and my legs soon extended from the chair parallel to the floor.
She next slipped a form behind the calves of my leg forcing my foot down like I was standing on my tip toes. Small straps were secured holding my leg against the form; then she did the other leg to match. I was puzzled by her actions, trying to figure out her intentions. After both forms were secure, she pulled a syringe out of a drawer, and I received a shot in the fleshy part of the back of my lower leg. It was done before I was really lucid, being in a kind of fog all day as the hair and nails were worked on.
As she was putting things away from her earlier work, I asked what the shots were for. Her reply surprised me since I didn’t think anything could be done to ensure that you wore heels in the future. That was the verdict; the shots tightened the tendons in the leg so that heels would be a necessity at all times. When the forms were taken off, she had me try to put my foot flat on the floor, but it was nearly impossible and very painful.
I was not sure about the cumulative effects of all of these treatments, but the individual ones seemed to be destined to make that aspect feminine immediately. Shortening of the tendons guaranteed me wearing high heels, a most female shoe. My new breasts are jutting proudly from my chest, forever removing any doubt about the gender of the individual with them. That is just two of the treatments, add all of the others in, and a female I will be for the foreseeable future.
They spent a couple of hours in female deportment; sitting, walking and gestures were stressed. The heels did feel good, and I soon mastered a feminine wiggle that made my new gender more apparent. I was given a few hints about my voice, mainly about word choice since they all felt my natural speaking voice sounded feminine enough.
Once the curlers were removed from my hair, a quick look in the mirror confirmed that my image was female, not one single masculine feature left on my body. I wiped the couple of tears that had slid down my cheeks, now aware of how much all of this was going to affect my life. I had kind of hoped maybe a little masculine might still exist after the transformation, but realized that female is all anybody is going to see when looking at me.
Jennifer picked me up after the salon had called her telling her that I was ready.
Story Incomplete At Present
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker