Cybil was glad to see me again since there was a familiarity between us that only develops with time. This would be the tenth time I had come to the Turnabout Gurl salon to have my hair done. According to Cybil, customers like me were the reason that the salon was started in the first place. Francine, owner and founder of Turnabout Gurl salon chain , launched the concept to help people like me express themselves. A friendly place to let down our hair and for a while to be the individual we really felt we were, a gender turnabout.
I am a crossdresser if you have to find a name that would describe me. I worked a nine to five job, four days a week, to keep a roof over my head. A more accurate description would be that I worked four days, then had three days off. Since we never worked the same days each week, it made it difficult to plan anything. This was a doctrine that the company came up with to keep all employees in the part-time category, thus avoiding any expense of benefits offered to the full-time people. The job was okay, but lacked any appeal except for the little money that I used to keep myself fed and housed.
Since this was the first day of my three days off, I often indulged myself in getting my hair done professionally. The Turnabout Gurl Salon was always reasonable with their service prices, and for the price of a couple of meals, I could indulge myself. Besides, I needed to lose weight to keep my figure trim and pretty. Cybil was more than a beautician, a very personable individual, always interested in my life and what I was doing with it.
She remembered things that I had mentioned that I was going to do, asking me what happened, or if I enjoyed this or that. Her skills as a beautician, Francine the owner of the salons preferred beauty technician, were more than adequate. I had let my hair grow until it now was just a tad lower than my shoulders, a concession to my female side. My employer had no problem with that as long as I kept it in a ponytail. Rules and dress codes were somewhat lax since they weren’t offering much in the wage category.
She could take my longish hair and turn it into a plethora of styles, a decision we adopted after the first visit. Every week, she would try a different hairstyle, so that I could experience different looks. I really enjoyed this excursion into the female world, since I was born male.
There was not much to tell about how I was brought up. My Mom did not dress me in female clothes, I wasn’t bullied in school, and my few girlfriends were only interested in what might come their way from a date with me.
My five-foot-nine-inch height, combined with my weight at one hundred thirty pounds left me severally shy of a masculine body. I was never good at sports, so any muscle development was short-circuited early on. My facial features were not feminine, by any means, but also, there wasn’t anything there to lead to the conclusion that I was undoubtedly a male. With a hairstyle from Cybil, I was able to walk out of the salon in male clothes, and be presumed to be a female, although a little on the tomboyish side.
Today, she had set my hair in rollers and placed me under a dryer. A manicurist had approached me and told me she was sent to do my nails, I, of course, panicked since my budget only allowed for a hairstyle. Cybil saw the look on my face and came over, assuring me that there would be no charge, so I should just enjoy it. I was somewhat in shock, never expecting to get something for free. I did enjoy the service, a truly magnificent experience, resulting in long extensions on my fingers, each painted a ruby red in color. Then, I remembered that any fingernail extensions were somewhat permanent, wondering how I would get them off. Cybil saved the day as she came to check my hair, to see if it was dry, thus, keeping my mind off any perceived problems temporarily.
I was pronounced dry and led back to her station, the first words out of my mouth were, “How am I going to get the nails off before work in three days?” About that time, Francine came over, a frequent visitor to the salon, taking the time to visit each salon and meet some of the customers. I had met her before, a very personable lady easy to talk with. She sat down in the next chair and asked if she could prevail upon me to go to dinner with her. I was stunned, but I quickly figured that there was no way for me to be passable, so I told her, “It would be best if you asked someone else, maybe one that would attract less attention.”
She smiled before telling me that it was at her house, private and with only one other guest. “I will see to it that you have something appropriate to wear, and that you get there safely, and returned to your apartment in time for work in three days.” I looked at her, and then to Cybil for any kind of help. Both just smiled, and then Cybil suggested that it was a one-time offering, and she could attest to Francine’s honesty and goodness. I nodded my head in the affirmative, but my mind was still trying to figure out if I should accept. Quite often my body accepts before my mind has decided what to do, causing a lot of grief in the past few years.
Cybil applied some light makeup, with me fretting how I was ever going to be able to pay for all of this. It turns out, she is as good with makeup, as she is with hair. There were no masculine features left in the image reflected back from the mirror. As she removed the curlers from my hair, the hair bounced back into the tight curl it had been set to. Then with a stiff brush, she started to brush out the curl some, but the added volume that this created, and the remaining curl that was left intact, turned my head into a feminine delight. Of course, the dousing of the head in hairspray was next, then she sprayed my face with another product to set and preserve my makeup.
She grabbed my hand and led me through a set of double doors into another store. A store, I never knew existed, but as soon as my eyes focused a little, I knew I had died and gone to heaven. The dresses and clothes were just fabulous, and the store was packed to the brim with them. I was led over to a rack of dresses, all black in color, while Cybil proceeded to help me pick out a dress.
In the end, it was a classic LBD with a modest neckline, a pencil skirt and capped sleeves. The bra and panties I was treated to, looked divine on me, and made the dress look even better. The cute breast forms that were slipped into the bra made the look complete. Next, a pair of pantyhose, then a three-inch pump with a bow on the vamp of the shoe added to the look, also in black.
Many times I asked Cybil about the cost of these items, and each time I was informed that they were a gift from Francine. She regularly did this on the spur of the moment to some of her customers to thank them for their business. It would take years for her to recover her investment in me today since I didn’t spend that much in her salon.
The final image of me in the mirror brought me to tears, as this is what I had dreamed of for years, and to see the end result standing before the mirror, made me sob. I thanked Cybil many times, hugging her and even gave her a kiss on the cheek. When Francine showed up asking me if I was ready to go, I broke out into sobs again. Cybil did mention that her choice of waterproof mascara was a good decision, since there will be no panda eyes today. I was led to Francine’s car, as I thanked her profusely along the way.
By the time I got to the car, I was a little better, still tearing up, but the wrenching sobs had stopped. She held the door for me, then made sure I buckled up. It was a pleasant drive out to her house a few miles out of town. I say house, but it was quite large for a house, two stories, a brick façade, and peppered with windows. Cybil had mentioned that the house here was just one of many that Francine owned, scattered across the country near her salons. She pulled into her garage, and we got out to enter the house. From the garage, we entered a laundry room/mud room and then into the kitchen. The kitchen was larger than my apartment, gleaming in steel and porcelain.
I was offered a soft drink, me accepting a diet cola, then she brought out a tray of fruit, cleaned and cut into bite-size portions. The fruit was excellent, as we sat at the bar and talked a little. She told me a little about how she started the salons, and of some of her first customers. She indeed started with male customers who wanted to bring out a side of themselves that had previously not seen the light of day.
I stopped to thank her again, for all she had done for me today, but she told me she had an ulterior motive for her actions. “I have been lucky in acquiring many quite well to do customers, and quite often things are revealed to me that wouldn’t normally be discussed in normal settings. This might be one of these cases; one of her special friends might need some help in what she is planning to do. In this case, you might be the one that could supply this help. In an effort to see if this might be the case, I have arranged a meeting between you two so that you can get acquainted. Francine stressed that I should be honest and as forthcoming as possible to allow a relationship to develop between the two of you.”
She asked if I had any questions so far. I told her not yet, but I would be willing to meet the other party halfway. We finished our nibbling, and she gave me a tour of the house. A gorgeous living room was next to the kitchen, with sliding glass doors leading onto a patio of sorts. I say of sorts because it was fully enclosed with screen and glass. The furniture in the living room looked like it was all antique, all of it tastefully refurbished for the proper period.
I was led out of the living room, past a more than adequate office, then up a set of stairs to the second floor. The stairs opened into a sitting room, done in a comfortable but relaxed style. Then, from this room, three bedrooms had their doors leading to spacious rooms with adjoining bath. The bedrooms were all done in a very feminine décor, including canopy beds, vanities, and pedestal mirrors. The closets were quite spacious, and full of interesting items, at least, to a crossdresser they had a lot of appeal.
The baths were tub only, the footed type, with floor to ceiling drapes, surrounded the tubs. At least two walls of each bath had mirrors that extended to the ceiling making the rooms seem much larger than they were. Of course, the image reflected back from these mirrors would reveal the femininity of the person that stood before them. I caught myself looking at my feminine image and wishing something like this could go on forever, but knowing that all good things must end at some time. Three days from now, my golden carriage will vanish and I will be back where I started.
We made ourselves comfortable on a couple of love seats in the sitting room, and talked a little more about things in general. I told her how thankful I was for the salon, and for the courtesy and grace of Cybil, as she has helped me with my quest. I always felt comfortable in the salon and was treated like I was family, and not just a customer.
We could hear the doorbell ring, and then the door opened as Francine pushed a button on a remote. She then spoke into the remote, telling her guest that we were in the upstairs sitting room, and there are fruit and cold drinks in the refrigerator. I guess the visitor had been here before and was familiar with the general layout of things. After about ten minutes, a gorgeous lady ascended the stairs, carrying a small plate of fruit and a cold drink.
I was introduced to Mary Ann Scroggins, a longtime friend of Francine, and she took a seat next to me on the love seat. She wanted to know a little about me, and how I came to be a customer of the Turnabout Gurl salon. I told her how I had found them, being a friend of a friend, that had steered me in the right direction; Cybil latching on to me on my first visit, and I have been a contented customer ever since.
I was dying to ask a question of Mary Ann, but I figured that would come later when she got to know me a little better. I was asked what I did for a living, and if I didn’t mind divulging the information, what kind of money I made at it? I told her what I did, the thirty-two hour week and what money I managed to take home. My three hundred twenty dollar deposit to my bank account, each week was not much, but paid the bills and allowed me a little pleasure.
I considered myself smarter than a lot of people, but lacked any formal training, hence being stuck in a dead end job with not much better prospects on the horizon. I was asked if there was a close family. My reply, stating that only an aunt remained, my parents dying in a plane crash some years before. I offered, that my only responsibility was my cat, a purebred Siamese that was given to me several years ago when the owner no longer wanted her. Mary Ann smiled at that, wanting to know its name. Her name is Contessa Marie de Eon or Tessa for short. Of course, she wanted to see a picture of the cat, and I had to dig my wallet out of the purse that Cybil had given me at the salon to show her.
The appropriate oohs and ahs were given, then I asked, if I would be staying the night, remembering that Francine had mentioned something about returning me to my apartment before the next work cycle? Francine told me that that would be an option if I so desired, and if I accepted, she would take me to pick up the cat. Queue a cat, and Francine’s cat strode into the room as if she owned it. I was sniffed, then apparently after passing minimal standards, she proceeded to her love seat and took her royal seat to watch the proceedings.
Since Mary Ann did not get sniffed, I presume that she was a frequent guest and had already been approved as a subject of the realm. Mary Ann resumed her questions now that all necessary parties had arrived. She asked about my schooling, what schools, what courses and if I had ever thought of returning to school for further studies?
I replied that I had attended eight years of grade school, graduating at the top of my class, four years of high school in the top tenth of my class, and two years of college failing to get a degree since there were no more funds for school available, because of my parent’s death. I held positions in student government for three years and National Honor Society for two years. When I took my last SAT test, prior to completing my last two years of college, I was in the upper five percentile.
I quickly added that all of that education and honors did me no good since I had no practical experience or completed a degree in a specialized area. After my parent’s death, I was made rudely aware of the fact that no doors were open to me. I took an entry level job, to work my way up, but corporate downsizing was the watchword, and found myself shuttled off to the side to keep from paying benefits or decent wages.
To get out of the part time trap, you either had to be a minority or a female, to help them make employment quotas. Since I was neither, I have been stagnant in my present position. A year ago after trying the resume route to the max, I just decided to settle for what I had, and have a little enjoyment to get through life. My trips to the salon, and my limited dressing, are my enjoyment while the crappy job is what I have to put up with to survive.
In truth, that is about all that I am doing, surviving a world that is austere and unyielding. I have still a little hope left, but most of it has been beaten out of me by life. Mary Ann was silent after that outburst, but she did say she wanted an honest answer to her questions.
The subject changed to Mary Ann, and she shared a little of her history. She was half of a set of identical twins, raised by a loving and caring family until the ravages of the Gulf war took her father from them. Her mother was ill-equipped to handle the family by herself, declared mentally insane a year later. She and her sister were raised by a widowed uncle, who had a daughter from a previous marriage.
The uncle was a caring father figure to the three girls, teaching them the important things in life. Due to his financial background, he made a more than adequate living in banking and the stock market. At an early age, he had set up a portfolio for each daughter, to be left alone until the girls reached eighteen. His knowledge of the market and his guesses about what stocks would do in the future was unequaled.
At the girls eighteenth birthday, the individual portfolios were valued at over five million dollars. He turned over the funds to his daughters and suggested that they invest in some of the up and coming tech stocks. Mary Ann did the best with her selections, making a five million dollar investment into a hundred million dollar empire within fourteen months. Since then she has made wise investments, not as good as the tech ones, but her net worth has steadily climbed.
She is at the point, that working for a living is not in her future, although she intends to stay active in some endeavor. In fact, recently she has joined Francine as a silent partner in her corporation. One of the seedier sides of having money is the trail of people trying to attract her attention for some scheme or deal. Then, you have the press that wants to sensationalize anything that happens to her for their own advancement. Now, to somehow avoid this spider web of doom that follows her everywhere, is where I might come in.
I smiled having already guessed what my part might be. I asked if I might hazard a guess of what she might want from me. She said, “Guess away, but I don’t think you realize the degree of involvement that I might ask of you.”
I replied, “That you want me to impersonate you, so you could get away for a while. There is enough of a resemblance between us, that upon casual observation, I might be able to fool people. I personally don’t think that I could really substitute for you, but I might be able to fool some people for a little while.” A giggle from both Francine and Mary Ann puzzled me for a moment. Francine reminded her that I was not as blonde as I looked, that I had pierced some of the puzzle together without many clues.
Mary Ann then asked, “Do you have any moral objections to impersonating someone?” I told her no, as long as the act didn’t lead to any criminal activity. She then asked, “Are you heterosexual or gay?” That floored me for a minute, since I hadn’t seen that question working its way into the conversation. I responded, that as far as I knew, that I was heterosexual, but my one girlfriend experience in junior college was far from being a deciding factor to the question.
Francine suggested we take a break on that note, informing us that we were expected in town at the local eatery for dinner. She apologized for her earlier statement that dinner was to be private and at her house, but she felt things had advanced enough that a venture out into the real world, would be beneficial.
Her reservations were at six, allowing us thirty minutes to freshen up and make our way into town. Francine addressed my expression of panic, telling me that it was a private dining room, and that I would pass anyway. I freshened up my lipstick and waited for the two of them to get their things together.
We made our way to Francine’s car and made the short drive into town. The restaurant was one of the fanciest in our little borough, although their prices tended to make people think they were the best of the elite. It was a private room, with only the three of us seated at a corner table. The décor in the room was lavish, tending to make you think that the food was worth the outrageous prices.
The food was good, but not that good. We all had salads with various embellishments. The saving grace for the validity of their opulent claim, was the dressings. Fifteen different choices served on a lazy Susan type of dish, all worthy of a six-star restaurant. Needless to say, dinner was quickly consumed and again the talk resumed between us.
Mary Ann felt that an agreement could be worked out with me, and one that might be financially of benefit to me. However, with so much at stake, she asked me if I would keep her company for the next few days; just doing things like shopping, maybe a spa day, movies, and maybe a little clubbing one evening. A chance to develop a friendship between us, and learn a little more about each other.
I accepted, her idea tweaked my imagination, and I was curious about all the details. I also understood the need to be sure before all things were disclosed. Francine had to get back to the salon for a meeting with some of her franchise holders, so she excused herself. I wondered how we were going to get around since Francine had driven us to the restaurant. The Cadillac limo that pulled up answered that question. Her chauffeur, a rather petite redhead with no shortage of a figure, held the door for us as we entered.
She addressed Mary Ann as we approached, then held my hand, as I entered the car. Her greeting was directed to a Mary Beth, who I figured, later on, was apparently me. She introduced herself as Julie, my personal driver. Mary Ann looked my way, but seeing that I was taking it all in without much response, told Julie to take us to the mall. I looked back at Mary Ann seeing if she was testing my ability to cope, and since she had the biggest smile plastered on her face, I knew she was.
The mall took us about thirty minutes to reach, although the stereo in the limo made the ride quite pleasant. We were dropped in front of one of the anchor stores and entered. Mary Ann was an avid shopper, not missing much as we made our way through the store. Several times, I was asked my opinion on a dress or blouse, as we would stop to check the merchandise.
I looked, but mostly dreamed about buying these articles of my desired femininity. When we reached the food court, she asked if I would like a drink, I quickly accepted but was surprised when she handed me some money, and told to get her a fruit smoothie and whatever I wanted. She would wait for me at a nearby table.
I knew she wanted to see, what if any, trouble I would have doing things that I had never done before. From our earlier conversations, she knew I had never been out in public by myself, much less a place as busy as the mall. I headed over to the booth making the smoothies, ordered her drink, then waited for it to be made. During that time, I had looked at the other booths and decided I wanted a root beer slushie. I received her drink and made my way to the other booth to order mine.
Of course, the attendant turned out to be a fellow employee where I worked. I placed the order, conscious of her staring at me, but nothing was said. She handed me my drink about five minutes later and thanked me for my order. I thanked her by name, a stupid reaction on my part, got an OMG from her in response. Her reply surprised me, telling me how pretty I was, wanting to know why I wore such god awful clothes to work.
I told her that I was out with a friend and had to get back, but she was scribbling her phone number on a piece of paper and telling me to call her as soon as possible. Then, I received a hug and a cheek kiss. I walked away in a trance, never in a million years expecting to be recognized and then complimented on my appearance.
When I got back to the table, Mary Ann was smiling. She apologized for getting me outed, but I told her that the lady was as shocked to see me this way, as I was to be recognized. I told her that I didn’t think it would be a problem. We sipped our drinks with her wanting to know what it felt like to be out in the real world. My reply was, “Different for a starter, being scared to death of being recognized, then finding out that it wasn’t as bad as I had made it out to be for all these years.
The underlying good feeling that this is somehow right, instead of battling life with no way to win the fight. I feel comfortable in the clothes, my hair and makeup are the real me, not an illusion designed to hide my inner being. But the best feeling is that this is fun, just plain fun.”
We finished our drinks, and Mary Ann suggested that I freshen my lipstick, a task that I quickly endorsed; I had never put on lipstick out in public, and it made me feel all squiggly inside. I know, how do you define squiggly, let just say it was as much fun as riding a roller coaster with hands in the air screaming in fear. And I do love roller coasters, probably the only good thing about a fair or carnival.
We resumed the mall trolling, ending up in a fancy women’s boutique in one of the side corridors of the mall. When I say a fancy women’s boutique, I mean it, this shop exuded opulence. Most of the jewelry was gold and the pieces that were not, obviously all sterling silver. The stones were all real ranging from sapphires to diamonds, and not a single piece was a solitaire.
The clothes were all designer fashions, with not a sign of how much the item was. If you have to ask how much, you didn’t need to be shopping there. Mary Ann and I went up and down each aisle, looking at the selections. One dress, in particular, had caught her fancy, a floor length dress, apparently silk with a walking pleat all the way to the hip. It was so form fitting that if the pleat was not there, you would not be able to move in the dress.
She came back to it several times, with me telling her, if she likes it that much, try it on and then buy it. That got a smile appear on her face, as she handed me the dress, and showing me where the dressing rooms were. I took the dress, wondering where I had gone wrong, since she had so easily baited me until I said something, then set the hook.
I made it to the dressing room, removing my LBD and then slithered into the dress. It was tight, very tight, conforming to my every curve and a few that I didn’t have. Even with the kick pleat, it was hard to maneuver in the dress, as the material restricted the movement of my legs. I could barely walk in it, but that was just about the limit of my movement.
Mary Ann entered the changing room, took one look at the dress, and whistled. Of course, the blush turned on, one of my brighter ones, but I was told that it was a keeper. She paid the associate way too much for a dress, but according to Mary Ann, a bargain at half that price. I will have to take her word on that. We wandered down the main concourse, window shopping until we approached an elegant shoe store.
I say elegant because there was only five pair of shoes in the window, all Jimmy Choo’s and again no price tags. I was swept into the store, and a young woman came to help us. Mary Ann showed her the dress and told her we needed at least a five-inch heels to match the dress. I was thinking, how I was going to walk in five-inch heels, but Mary Ann was only interested in seeing what size shoe I wore. The woman measured my foot, and I found out I was a size 9 wide. Mary Ann squealed in delight, apparently the same size as her.
“Now we can wear each other’s shoes,” was her reply, bouncing up and down like a school kid. Surprisingly I got caught up in the enthusiasm, and we had hugs and kisses as we debated the benefits of being able to wear each other’s shoes. Again a little fun, from such a minor incident, maybe not a big deal to a male, but to a female sharing clothes, shoes and jewelry is a part of life.
We hit a couple of more stores; then we decided to head home. Mary Ann had called Julie, and she was waiting for us at the curb, taking our bags to the trunk, then making sure we were comfortable before she pulled out. Our destination was to head back to Francine’s, a movie, then maybe a late night snack. I was more than curious as to what Mary Ann thought of me, deciding just to ask. If it was not appropriate, I was sure she would inform me of that.
Another smile from her, but she had not fully made up her mind, maybe tomorrow she could let me know where I stood. She did caution me, just to be myself, putting on airs or lying about something will just make things worse. She did concede that she liked me, like BFF’s, but that is all she had decided. She also, was not forcing it, just letting whatever happens to occur, and then go from there.
Francine was waiting for us, having taken the time to cook a late night snack. I found out her talent at running a business was not her only skill. She prepared a roast marinated in her secret blend of spices, with roasted potatoes drenched in butter and sea salt, plus a summer squash casserole with peppers, onions, and ground up bagels as a topping lightly browned in the oven. All I can say was that it was one of the best meals that I had ever eaten. If this was a snack, I couldn’t wait to see what a full meal was like.
She asked what we did today, and what the plan was for tonight. Mary Ann told her a movie if we could find anything worthwhile to go see. We checked the internet, finding a chick flick newly released, that sounded interesting. Francine asked about plans for tomorrow, with Mary Ann not firming anything up until we got back from the movies. Mary Ann was told that Cybil was available if she wanted to pursue that option.
I guess it was something they had talked about but was not sure if they would use that option. I suggested that if it was important to Mary Ann to help her get more comfortable with me, then we should just do it. Francine and her exchanged glances, with Mary Ann giving her the nod. I was not told about it, but apparently it involved me. I gave them a hug, then went upstairs to fix my makeup. When Mary Ann came into the bedroom, she apologized for the vagueness and secrets, but she didn’t want me to have to deal with everything until I decided whether or not I was going to be a part of this crazy scenario.
I informed her that I had decided that fifteen minutes after meeting her, but realized that it was a joint decision, not a one person deal. I received a giant hug from her and a surprisingly passionate kiss to top it off. I was left a little short of breath, but feeling so good. Not because I might get a chance to dress up more, but because I might be able to help Mary Ann in some way. When I communicated that to her, she said you don’t even know what you are going to get paid for this and what all it entails. There is much more you don’t have any idea about.
I told her, I don’t have to know everything or about the money, I like you and want to help you, unconditionally, if you allow it. Francine chose that moment to enter the room as Mary Ann planted another passionate kiss on my lips. When we broke to breathe again, Mary Ann told Francine that what she had told her about me was so true. A loving and caring individual who is not self-absorbed in themselves and their future.
I tried to get the subject off of me, as I asked, “What should I wear to the movies?” Francine suggested jeans, with a tank top so I would be comfortable. Mary Ann told her that sounded good, but a skimpier bra and a thong panty underneath to appease my date. I blushed, but Francine went to the closet and removed the items that I was to wear. How my size clothes appeared in this closet was a mystery to me, but you can’t be unhappy when beautiful clothes are there at your fingertips to wear.
The thong was something else, my first time wearing one, and the cord running between my ass cheeks was keeping me excited and jittery. The bra was very minimal; just two cups joined with a narrow band and a single hook in the back. Francesca did help me to fasten it but was left with the feeling that I had nothing on since it was so lightweight. It barely held the breast forms, but Mary Ann was happy with the look, the almost see through tank top, not doing much to hide the delicious undergarment.
I tried to protest a little looking in the mirror, then back at them finally asking, if they didn’t see something basically wrong with my outfit. Mary Ann giggled a little and dragged me from the room and down the stairs. Out the door to the limo and we were off, with my mouth still open as to protest my clothing choices. Mary Ann suggested that I wouldn’t get as thirsty if I kept my mouth closed, also saving numerous applications of lipstick to keep the lips from drying out.
The movie was mediocre, definitely a chick flick, but I saw very little of the movie itself, as someone intent on making me squirm, was being especially attentive. My bra and thong received more attention than I thought possible. I hoped the jeans would prevent access to my thong, but Mary Ann was skilled in moving the zipper down, even though I was able to get it back up a couple of times.
The last time she held it down and used her other hand to grab a hold of my thong, as she jerked the string sharply up I was required to intake a large amount of air, but when I recovered some, her other hand was caressing my breast form and squeezing the nipple underneath. Too many places to try and protect, the feelings of arousal beginning to take a toll on my sanity. Finally, I gave up, slumped down in the seat and let her play with my nipples and penis.
More than a few times, I was caught squirming in my seat, as she pushed all of my buttons as she played with me. Thankfully, it wasn’t much longer when the movie ended, and she escorted me to the limo. Once seated in the limo, she asked me if I had ever experienced a date as a female with an overactive male lover. I told her that was a treat that I was glad I had missed. Then I surprised her as I leaned her back in the seat, and kissed her with tongue.
My one hand went to her vagina and my other to her right breast. I kneaded and poked without fear of reprisal, figuring what she gave, she should be able to receive. When my tweaking of her nipples was causing some deep guttural moans, I backed off. I got a slap on the arm, as she had my one hand on her nipple as she tried to get my other hand into her moist vagina. I guess she received some satisfaction, but she managed to keep the noise down as she accomplished this.
Home is where the heart is, and that is where we ended up several minutes later. Where we had left for the movies with Mary Ann dragging me bodily from the house, we arrived back cuddling and trying to probe the mouths that were seemingly melted together. Francine noticed the difference, and also that Mary Ann’s clothes had become disheveled in the interim. She giggled, asking if Mary Ann was ready to surrender, or was she going to continue to wage a losing battle?
Finally, everyone broke into laughter and fits of giggles, as we settled into the love seats in the sitting room. Her Majesty, Francesca’s cat, was greatly perturbed at our actions and the intrusion on her kingdom. Yes, her cat was named, Her Majesty, I might add a very appropriate name for a cat with such regal bearing, a name you don’t soon forget as you watch her with people. Surveying her subjects and allowing her followers to feed and care for her as all loyal followers should do.
Seeing her cat reminded me that mine was probably calling 911 in search of her master, so I reminded Francine of my poor kitty. She grabbed my hand, and we made our way to her car. It wasn’t long before we arrived at my apartment, but I had forgotten that I was still dressed as a female, not something that I normally did outside of my apartment. I let myself in and was attacked by Tessa.
I gathered a few essentials, her food, her treats, her toys and we were off. I carried the cat as Francesca carried her essentials. Francine had told me that, Her Majesty, would allow Tessa to share her potty box, providing her poop was not that odoriferous. I am not sure about the level of odor, but I hoped they could get along for a day or two. When we got back, the two cats smelled each other front and back, then made their way to one of the love seats and plopped themselves down. Things were as they should be, and all was well elsewhere.
When the rest of us joined the pussies, Mary Ann told me that I would be suitable for her project if I decided to participate. Now, it was her turn to tell all about her idea or plan, to allow me to decide if I wanted to join her grand scheme. If for some reason I didn’t want to be a part of this, she asked me to keep the following details to myself. After a full day, she had considered me her BFF and hoped I could see my way to be a part of her plan.
She told me to keep quiet as she explained what she wanted to do until she had covered the whole plan. Then, if I had any questions, she would be glad to accommodate my questions. She started out with the fact that money did have its privileges, and she intended to get her money’s worth. My part of this plan was to be a decoy to keep the press, the paparazzi, and the leeches busy and away from her.
We would be two identical female twins, one a public figure engaging in parties, fundraisers, and other social and community affairs. The other a private figure, preferring to keep out of the limelight and live her life. The public figure has to be in the middle of everything, to keep the interest up so that the private figure can be stealth.
She continued her plan, “There will be times when the real me needs to become the public figure for a short time, hence the need to be identical twins, down to the last minute detail. In other words, we can switch off when the need arises. It is Francine’s and my opinion, that we can be made to be perfect look a likes with minimal surgery. Mary Beth needs her nose fixed, and some work done on her eyes and lips. We have a doctor ready to make those changes. The voice must also be addressed, although it might be possible to train it to be nearly identical.
Francine and her salon can handle the rest of the figure enhancements, so we are identical twins. The hiding of the large clit that Mary Beth has, can be done away with glue-on prosthetics. Her salon has a breast treatment that creates a very realistic breast that over time becomes natural breast tissue. This will be necessary to accommodate the sexy clothes that you must wear to keep public attention. I stress that this masquerade must be 24/7 for the rest of our lives, any variance or slip up will cause lots of problems and scandal.
I further suggest that you provide and store sperm samples, in the case at a later date, you wish children of your own. The vulva prosthetic is very realistic, even to the point of allowing intercourse without detection. There is glue available that is relatively permanent so that the appliance need not be removed or cleaned. Use of the appliance will require you to sit to potty as a natural female would. The short version is, that you would be a female for the rest of your life, or at least the majority of it. Now, I know that this must seem radical and a little out of this world, but we are dealing with a family net worth of close to three hundred million dollars. The money means little to me, but that kind of money draws all of the sharks out to see what they can find to shred. It will take both of us to keep everyone at bay and our sanity intact.
You noticed that we had a fun day shopping, but that was only due to the fact that no one recognized me. That is a very rare occurrence these days. With two of us out there, the odds are better, and then take one of the twins, and make her involved in everything, and there might be some peace and quiet available. I am aware that your public side also needs some down time, and I will fill in as needed to allow you some of that quality time.
Now for your incentive to participate, I will share my wealth with you fifty-fifty. I have seen the caring and responsible side of you, and I trust that we can enjoy our life together. The money is yours to spend however you want, or you can invest it in something else. All I ask is that you consult me first before making a major investment. We have a house similar to Francine’s down the road where we can live in relative peace. It is gated and has the latest security measures to keep the unwanted out. Now after hearing this, do you think you can be a part of this?”
I replied that I would love to help her any way I can. Next her question was, can I do this for the rest of my life? I knew my answer to this one before she even finished her question, but decided to lighten the mood a little. You mean, can I go from a do nothing, be nothing life, to a life of endless possibilities. Well, I don’t know if I can handle it, but you just try and stop me from trying. I got the giggle that I wanted from her as we hugged and kissed.
I dared to ask if the female to female relationship was also part of the deal or was it only used to assure a positive response to her quest. That was answered with a passionate kiss, but not a single spoken word was deemed necessary. I kept sticking my neck out farther asking her if she found the right man would she marry. She did pause for a moment as she planned her response. “If, and that is a big if, the right man came along, I would probably marry, but I doubt that would ever happen.”
One of the biggest treats of marriage to me would be to have kids, but just to marry for that reason alone, would be foolish. I happen to know of a young man, who is caring, loving, and unselfish who we might be able to kidnap, milk his seed for our later use. What more could you ask of a father than that? It actually took me a minute to realize that she was talking about me. The kidnap part and the milking of my seed made me rise to the occasion, obviously seen by both women as they were giggling to themselves.
She suggested that we schedule a dry run of our plan, where both of us were to attend a dance sponsored by a local charity to help raise contributions. It was a long-running affair, attracting all the right people, including the press and Lotharios interested in lining their pockets. The dance was ten days off, allowing me to be converted to Mary Beth, everything, but the permanent surgery was to be done to make me look as close to Mary Ann as possible. If we had reasonable success, and I was still inclined to help, the new Mary Beth would be permanent.
Francine, at this time, suggested that I needed a tutor 24/7 until my actions and habits could be transformed into the Mary Beth persona, then later, a companion, slash personal assistant to help manage my schedule and life. Mary Ann agreed, wondering where we could find such a person that we could trust with all the details. Francine thought she knew such a person, who is familiar with the male Mary Beth, and would be willing to take on such a task.
My curiosity was piqued with the talk; but couldn’t think who knew me that we could trust. Francine just smiled, telling me that she would handle everything, but after I had met her, I was stuck with her for the duration. That scared me a little, if I didn’t like her or her me, I was doomed to a miserable existence. I asked her who she was thinking of, but she told me I would have to wait until morning to find out. I figured if there were bad vibes between us, I could try to back out of the deal, but I really didn’t want to do that.
This scenario was like a dream come true; I was pinching myself quite often to see if the next pinch was going to wake me from these feelings and bring me back to the pathetic little male that I really was. All the things that I had passed up as too damaging to my delicate and fragile existence, were now suddenly available to me in this scenario. But the risks and the permanence of the things to be done, would be a one-way avenue to my fantasies, never to return to the former persona.
We talked a little more, then decided to get a little sleep, a priority for tomorrow. I received some help getting my makeup off and was given a nightie and fresh panties for the night. Then, a choice of sleeping in my own bed or sharing a bed with Mary Ann. Now the person that can’t figure out my choice in the matter, might need some remedial education.
Mary Ann wanted no hanky-panky tonight, as she gathered me in her arms and spooned me. The passionate kiss was there, but until things were decided for sure, she didn’t want to go any further. As I was thinking of her and her kisses, the warmth spreading through my body, then the next minute, I was sound asleep. You can take my name off the greatest lovers of the western hemisphere list since I can’t even stay awake long enough to start any foreplay.
I must have slept very soundly, for the next thing I remember is having to go to the bathroom, and the sun was already creeping through the windows of the bedroom. I managed to slip out of Mary Ann’s embrace and get to the bathroom, and then had to stand there and think what I was supposed to do now. The nightie and the sensuous panties were the first clues that things were not as they used to be. I did make the necessary corrections and sat upon the throne and relieved myself. The obligatory wipe and I washed my hands and face to return to the bedroom.
Mary Ann was stretching in our bed, trying to get woke up. I received a hundred-watt smile, as she then darted past me to take care of her morning rituals. I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her, within a few minutes she was my side helping me put on a robe and slipping my feet into a pair of fuzzy mules.
With a couple of awkward steps, I finally managed a decent girlish walk towards the kitchen. It was girlish because the heels were four inches tall, making the stairs the only real hindrance between me and the kitchen. As I would look down at my feet to make sure I didn’t miss a step, Mary Ann would tell me to keep my head up. Halfway down the stairs, I figured out the proper foot placement to keep my balance and avoid missing a step.
My arrival in the kitchen was met with hugs and smiles as Francine and Cybil greeted me. I was surprised to see Cybil, but then remembered that we were going to do a trial run on the masquerade, and somebody other than Francine would be necessary to do my transformation. Breakfast was orange juice and an English muffin, not exactly the most favored morning meal, but one that is very good for the female figure. Note, it was only a single muffin, not multiple, my stomach still a little hungry, but it wasn’t getting anything else.
After finishing my meager meal, Cybil led me to a room on the first floor at the other side of the house. As she opened the door, I saw a miniature salon, equipped with all the necessary beauty equipment. I was led to a chair, then told to get comfortable, as she would be working on my face for several hours. A cape was placed around my neck and fastened, then a monitor was turned on, and a picture of Mary Ann came up on the screen.
A light came on next to the monitor and bright light illuminated my face then the light went out. The screen split and a picture of my face is now next to Mary Ann’s. The computer was changing the lighting on my picture to make it similar to that of the first picture. After that had been accomplished, marks began showing up on my facial picture with directions, apparently the steps and products to make my face identical to hers.
After the computer had done its job, Cybil started following the directions selecting makeup from a large roll around cart by the number on the screen. Each separate color and type are painstaking applied to my face while I watched as the pictures were becoming more similar. Every few minutes, a new picture was taken and put up on the screen. I was allowed a break after an hour and a half of this transformation, a diet coke, and an energy bar was my choice, the coke really hitting the spot. I wasn’t doing any work, but my nervousness was the culprit, making me more than a little thirsty.
Back to it, as she began the final few changes, including reducing my eyebrows to narrow arches. After she had done the facial matching, a new picture of Mary Ann appeared on the screen, this one with full makeup, then a new one of me taken with the camera on the computer. Now my female makeup is going to be put on to bring the transformation to its conclusion.
Getting my female makeup started, Cybil applied a clear lip gloss to the top and bottom lip. She told me that it was a lip plumper to get my lips closer to Mary Ann’s size. She has thicker lips, more pouty looking. Of course, with fuller lips, the lipstick she uses makes her smile light up the room. I would say that her lips were probably her best facial feature.
With the lip plumper doing its job, Cybil applied foundation to my face, an easy task since the facial contouring makeup serves as a concealer making my skin almost flawless. Then some rouge on my cheekbones, followed by a little eyebrow pencil to fill in the thinner areas of my eyebrows. The look was still a fine narrow arch over each eye, greatly feminizing my face. Eye makeup, consisting of shadow, eye liner, and mascara were applied, and my eyes seemed to beckon to anyone that was looking.
Looking at the two pictures, there was very little difference after the makeup was complete. Mary Ann and Francine were summoned to view the results, both very approving of my identical look. Next, was to be my figure transformation and Cybil started gathering her tools and appliances. The appliances, in this case, were very realistic boobs and a false vulva. Mary Ann told me the vulva was fairly realistic, but would not pass close scrutiny. Since she hoped I would not be taking any male interests to the bedroom on the night of the dance, the next to best vulva might be adequate.
The process all started with a hair free body, and that would require waxing. I was laid down on a table sunny side up and helped in getting my feet in a set of stirrups. A strap was put around each ankle and secured to the stirrup. With a big grin, Cybil told me that was because she didn’t want me to be able to resist her advances. I smiled but thought more likely to keep me from kicking her when the wax was jerked off.
She started at my ankles and worked her way up my legs. Yes, it did hurt in fact a couple of times if my feet were free, I am sure Cybil would have felt my leg somewhere on her body. I was told, however, that each time it is done it becomes easier to endure and less painful. That remains to be seen, especially the areas around my elbows, my knees, and my crotch. In fact, we won’t go there at all, since when she did my crotch and penis, there were tears flowing freely from my eyes, and that doesn’t happen often. Maybe sobbing would be a better description, since there was much more than a few tears, and the pain was unbearable.
After a while, I managed to ask her why there, isn’t there anyplace sacred and immune to this type of torture? She giggled, but told me, to attach the lower appliance, there can be no hair there to keep the piece from adhering properly. Since I was fairly sure that I had no intention of having sex with anyone, I didn’t even see the need for the false vulva in the first place. Cybil responded that with my short skirts, it would be necessary to keep from giving the impersonation away.
The inhumanity of it all, I had to turn over, and she proceeded to do the back side. I was not a happy camper, definitely not seeing how a female could put up with this on a regular basis, beauty be damn. The back side was not as difficult as the front, although the pain seemed to be still there, it was somehow dulled a little. Maybe my body gave up and was taking the assault on my masculinity with less seriousness.
With the last cloth strip ripped from my body, there was not a single hair left below my neck. Cybil took the time and rubbed in a soothing cream in every nook and cranny of my super sensitive body. Just her breathing on my skin set off wave after wave of erotic feelings, along with its share of goosebumps. She toyed with my male organ, but it was too brief and junior was too concerned with the fact that his tufts of pubic hair had been ripped out to make any kind of statement.
Cybil suggested that the hardest part be done first, and my legs were again placed in the stirrups and strapped down. An extra strap was placed just below my knee to the arm of the leg rest. The stirrups were spread further apart, making it easier for Cybil to be able to do her work. Either that, or she was getting ready to make a wish, before she released me, hinting that making a wish before pulling apart the wishbone always worked for her in the past.
I felt like I was splayed as far as my limbs would allow, the uncomfortable feeling really bothering me. I have sympathy for women in childbirth, the embarrassing position and the inability to do anything about it. Cybil played around moving my penis here and there as she was figuring where to attach the fellow to keep him out of sight. The false vulva was laid in place a couple of times to check the fit and position of the garment.
Then, a push on my testicles and they made a popping noise as they retracted into my body. I took a deep breath, expecting them to emerge again, but they stayed in place. The vulva was repositioned, and she started gluing it in place. She had placed my penis in a sheath, at least if felt like a sheath and glued just behind the head to the sheath. The sheath was then glued between my legs where my penis and balls used to hang.
The glue didn’t take long to grab hold, and the connection seemed very secure. Next, she glued the edges of the vulva to my crotch, instantly performing a sex change operation on me. Looking at my groin, there was now a slit, with two luscious lips on either side. I am apparently a new age woman, believing in a smooth crotch, with no sign of pubic hair to ruin the view, since my new lips are smooth and clean.
Story Incomplete At Present
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker