Lynette; Following Your Lead

I earn my living as a dance instructor, not my first choice, but the choice that pays the bills. I would much rather make my living writing, but so far no publisher has shown any interest in anything I put a pen to. The dance instructor job came as a result of a college friend that got into a bind. Lynn had started the dance school to help pay her way through college. It did that and a little bit more, and after graduation she decided to see if it could provide a living for her full time.

It started off with a bang, Lynn winning a local dance contest, giving her school a leg up with regards to the competition. She hired additional instructors, and soon had customers. Lynn was always a good dancer, her mom giving her the education in all forms of dance when she was younger. Her Mother was a co-owner in a national chain of dance studios. Unfortunately, her mother never lived long enough to see her daughter excel at what she learned.

My involvement came about when a couple of her instructors, were hired away by the competition. One competitor, in particular, had in for Lynn, wanting to bankrupt her school before she took all the business away from them. Lynn had a much more pleasant personality and is good with people, making her popular with her students. Just to be in her company is uplifting. We had met in college, at a mixer. Both of us freshmen, both of us new to the school and knowing no one, we somehow found each other. We danced that night till they closed the place, just happy to be with each other.

I started out life with the name of Jess, although the few friends I had over the years quickly morphed that into Jessie. Lynn was no different, the second time we met that became my new name, and she never did call me Jess the entire time we spent in college. I was short for a male, about an inch or two shorter than Lynn, but probably weighed twenty pounds lighter than she did, since a female never discusses her weight we will never know for sure if that is true.

Nothing more serious ever happened between us, although we attended several dances together each year. My dancing ability coming to me, courtesy of my mother, although she wasn’t near as qualified as Lynn’s mother. I could do the basic dances, nothing fancy, but my downfall is that I enjoy dancing. It is fun and exciting, and getting caught up in the music and twirling around the floor is what life is all about for me.

By now you have probably figured out that we are not talking about any of the modern dances. This is Ballroom dancing in all its glory. You actually hold your partner, interacted with them, and the two of you make a couple that performed the dance. Standing opposite a partner, gyrating in a non-musical maneuver, can’t ever be called dancing.

Anyway, she needed an instructor to help fill the gap till she could hire some more instructors, with my name at the top of the list. We had lost contact with each other after graduation, but I still lived in town, so she eventually tracked me down. I was working temporarily at a retail store, seasonal help, for three weeks. When she called, she asked if I could help her out. I told her that I am not a qualified instructor, as she knows, but I would help her any way that I could.

We met the next day at her studio, and she ran down what my duties would be. I would be teaching females the basic steps, maybe dancing a few dances with the better ones when they learned the basics. It was all one on one training, not group classes. My skills would be adequate for this, and she hoped to be able to hire a couple more instructors in a week or two. She had me dance a couple of dances with her, this time with me following. Up to this time I had always led, a normal male dance position. Lynn wanted me to have a little experience following so that I could show my students the basic female steps.

She put some music on, and we started dancing, the steps came to me naturally, and we danced around the studio for several hours. We did Fox Trots, Tangos, some Quicksteps, but mostly Waltzes. She remarked several times about my ability, fascinated that I could dance so well in the female role. My first student was the next day after work; I had only two more days of my seasonal work, and then I would be once again without a paying job.

After my first student, Lynn asked if I would consider being a full-time employee for her since I did so well with that student. “I will think about it, my dream of working as a writer still holding that prized first spot.” At the weekend, reality had descended on me again, and I told her I would accept. Nothing had changed, but that was the problem, three more publishers had returned the manuscripts with rejection letters, one I don’t think even looked at the offering.

At the studio, I am scheduled for four to five students a day, each session usually two hours, with the more advanced limited to one hour sessions. Eight to ten hours a day, with me being paid by the type of instruction I gave. I was bringing in one hundred to one hundred fifty dollars a day with ease, most of the students were pleasant and easy to get along with. Lynn was ecstatic with my help; she never did hire any other instructors.

Her primary competitor soon went belly up, getting us, even more, business. She ended up doing a group basic dance step class, then me doing the individual classes from there on. Things progressed from there as she slowly added a few more students to the school. She did, however, see that we had saturated the market, teaching most of the people that wanted to learn to dance in the area. She feared a downturn in the business level and four months later, it appeared. She was planning for this in the back of her mind, having a thought or two as to what she could do to keep herself financially secure. I was not aware of her plans, or that I would be included in those plans.

She gradually laid off two her of other instructors, as the business dwindled she would let them go when there was not enough to keep them busy. She kept the two female instructors she first started with, however, wanting them to keep the school going as she moved on to other pursuits. More and more she spent time with me dancing in the studio, sometimes late into the evening, always with her leading. I had a feeling that something had changed, but I loved to dance so I kept the comments to myself. Then when I had danced my last scheduled class with any students, she told me her plans.

The plans were disclosed over dinner at her house, which was attached to the dance studio. When I saw the bottle of wine, I knew that I would be wined and dined to get my approval for whatever she had planned. The standing rib roast, a good indication of the degree that she sought my approval. The meal is delicious; she admitted that she hadn’t cooked it, dancing is her forte, not cooking. We sipped wine looking at the stars as we sat on her patio. It is a beautiful night, stars seeming to populate every square inch of the nighttime sky. Finally, I asked her what she wanted to talk about; I could see the difficulty she is having in getting the conversation started, and I tried to make her at ease.

“I trust you Lynn, that whatever you have in mind, I will listen to, and most likely agree to your request.” The biggest smile came onto her face, and I knew that I had stepped into it big time. She dragged me back inside and hit the remote on the TV, and a video started playing of a couple dancing a Strauss waltz. The dress the female is wearing is gorgeous, one of the prettiest I had ever seen, but the couple’s ability is not quite up to the level of a serious dance enthusiast. I noticed the dress because it was cut very provocatively, not the usual dance contest dress.

Lynn asked me if I noticed anything different about the couple. Other than the dress I didn’t see anything unusual or different. She played it one more time, and then I noticed the effeminate appearance of the male partner. “The video was at a dance contest nearby, at a club where this type of dance contest is gaining popularity. Now the bigger dance organizations are taking notice and are going to start a national tour featuring this type of contest. They already have fifteen stops scheduled, with minimal prizes of one thousand dollars for the winning couple in each of three different dance competitions. The Waltz, the Tango, and the Foxtrot are the three primary dances they are going to feature.”

“The competitions are called the Turnabout, with the roles of the dancers reversed. The male dances the female role in costume, and the female dances the male role in a tux. To jazz it up the dresses the male in the female role, wears are more provocative, downright sexy. The competitions are gaining in popularity, playing to packed clubs in few towns already. Since a certain individual is so good at dancing the female part, I wondered if this contest might have an interest for you. I still have all my mother’s competition dresses, neatly packed away in storage. Most of them can be altered to enhance the sex appeal, and since they are all considered retro, they would be a natural for this type of contest.”

“Incidentally, you and she are almost the same size so they should all fit you with a minimum of alteration. The dresses are very feminine, perfect for this type of contest.” I had listened to all she had said but didn’t know about participating in this crazy idea. I never had dressed in my mother’s clothes, although one Halloween I did go as a fairy princess. The second fact is I had never had a serious relationship with a female, in fact, Lynn would probably qualify as a one and only date. It is not like I don’t want a relationship, it just doesn’t come easy for me. Lynn wanted me to think about it; she knew that it was pushing the limits that I would feel comfortable with, but the money is too good for the idea to be discarded without an attempt to see if it is doable.

I asked her some questions, about how I am to appear, what would be required to handle the impersonation. The answers are not what I was expecting, the degree that I would have to live as a female much more than I would have liked. The discussion ended that night when she told me there is a contest in the next town, about fifty miles away. She suggested that we enter and that I get transformed into a female for the dance. We try it out, both the impersonation and the dance to see if it is something we can handle. Then decide if it is to become a way of life for a while.

Nervously I agreed to the trial, getting a bonus hug and kiss from Lynn. She had made an appointment at a salon in town that did these type of transformations regularly, for tomorrow. After I was the correct gender, we would select a dress that is appropriate, maybe two, and then she would have them altered to fit the contest better. The contest is in three days, so not too much time for me to over think things. The one thing that I had to start on immediately is learning to maneuver in heels.

She went to her closet, returning with a five-inch heel with ankle straps. She smoothed a knee high up my foot after she had removed my socks. She eyed the heels, and then my pant legs, I guess figuring that I would not be able to get the pants off with the heels in place. She had me stand up, unbuttoned my pants and slid them down my legs. Before I realized what she was doing, I was naked from the waist down except for my boy shorts.

The heels are slipped on, the fit is perfect, and I suspected some advanced planning since it is obvious that Lynn and I are not the same shoe size. She fastened the ankle straps, and I heard two distinct clicks. I looked down, and the shoes are locked onto my feet. I looked up at her, giving her an evil eye, but she denied any wrongdoing, the fact is that you need to get used to the heels. That means that you stay in them until the contest. Don’t think of trying to cut them off; those shoes cost over five hundred dollars, and I will hurt you severely if you damage them in any way.

I asked the obvious, “Do I wear them to bed?”

“Yes, you stay in those heels until the dance contest.” I looked down at my lack of pants, pointed to that area. She came up to me, gave me a big hug, and told me I had two options, one she would lend me a skirt so that I could go home; the other is you stay here for the next few days. I smiled at her; she obviously has had this planned for longer than I had thought.

I presumed that I would be on my feet for the next few days, I should say heels since they seem to be a part of my outfit for the foreseeable future. I am not sure if I shared her gung-ho attitude, about the dance competitions, partly due to the level of involvement on my part. I guess it is worth a try, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I only wish my writing had some chance of being a success, every day I was more aware of it being wasted time and effort.

Seeing me as a female in a turnabout dance competition, is far fetched, but I presume not as out there as myself as a top selling author. If the disguise is good enough, I might be spared a lot of embarrassment, if not, no telling what humiliation I might have to endure. It is a small town, a lot of people know me, especially since I have been helping Lynn in the dance studio.

She shared her bed with me, telling me that she has had all her shots, besides we had lots to do in the next few days, thus no time to fool around. I was offered an oversize T-shirt to wear for pajamas, and two pillowcases were slid over my heels to prevent damage to the heels and bed. According to Lynn, the heels were Jimmy Choo’s, the best in female foot apparel available. The heels were quite comfortable, even though my feet are pointed like I am standing on my toes. It only took me about twenty minutes to get accustomed to walking in them.

Of course, Lynn is in awe of my ability to walk in the five-inch heel. I visited the bathroom, then slid my feet into bed. The pillowcases made it easier to get comfortable as the heels slid on the sheets. I received a passionate kiss, and Lynn thanked me for at least giving it a try. Shortly after getting into bed, she cuddled my back, with her arm over my side with her hand on my breast. I laid there staring at the ceiling for a while but soon lost consciousness, with only the alarm the next morning making me stir. I made my way to the bathroom. A very necessary task for me in the morning then sat on the toilet to remove the pillowcases and perform my daily ablutions.

Lynn had made her way to the kitchen and made coffee and had sliced some fruit and had some toast ready. I usually do not eat much in the morning but with no idea what is on the day’s agenda, decided to make an exception today. I was given a skirt to wear today, along with a cami top. When she caught my stare as I looked at the clothing that had been handed me, she told me that “you will have a coat to wear over them, the salon is only two blocks away, and very few people are out this early in the morning.”

I was going to ask just what is going to be done to me but decided that for the impersonation to be perfect, it would require me to be a female. To minimize any humiliation with regards to me, I was more than willing for the transformation to be nearly perfect. That would be much better than being laughed at. That pretty much handled what is going to be done to me; they were going to transform me into a female, a sexy one if Lynn is going to use the provocative costumes. I put on the clothes and Lynn took my hand, and we are on our way. When she closed and locked her door, an extra wave of nausea washed over me. I was out in public dressed as a woman, with a minimum of clothes on, and I am scared to death.

We walked to the salon, and I was surprised at how little attention I had received. At the front desk, Lynn told them my name and that I had an appointment for the works. Since we are entering the turnabout dance contests, we decided to use each other’s name. I should add that Lynn decided that we use each other’s name, although I could see no problem with it. Lynn is sometimes a guy’s name so that I would be spared some embarrassment. But the real Lynn thought her full name would be so much better, so now I am officially Lynnette.

At the salon, a gorgeous blonde came up to the front after being called by the receptionist. She introduced herself as Mary, a transformation specialist for Turnabout Gurl. Now, how do I describe the salon, it dripped femininity from any angle. The colors in the salon were all pinks and pastels, the drapes were light pink sheers, pulled back with Burgundy ribbons. All of the beauty equipment is polished chrome, that and all the mirrors made a bright and shiny appearance. The cushions on the chairs are upholstered in a pink leather, quite attractive, and I may add comfortable.

Mary’s uniform is a Lolita-like dress, very short with lacey petticoats underneath. The neckline is rounded with almost nothing restraining her breasts from escaping the confines of her dress. Her heels are stilettos, five inches tall, with two narrow straps holding them on her feet. Unlike me, her shoes are not locked on. Of course, stockings are worn, attached to a garter belt that peeked out every once in a while from underneath all of the petticoats. Her hair is an up do with tendrils of curls over each ear. Like I said the place dripped femininity.

She grabbed my hand and led me back to a treatment room; Lynn wished me luck, telling me that she would pick me up at five tonight. I gave her the deer in the headlight look; that is seven hours from now, and I silently prayed to whoever to save me from my apparent fate. My prayers are not answered, and fifteen minutes later I am naked and lying on the table to be waxed. Mary is a skilled professional, making quick work of what little hair I possessed. Somewhere in the initial meeting the key to my shoe locks was given to Mary, so they were now sitting to the side waiting for my transformation to be completed.

No area left untouched, from my eyebrows to my toenails, I am smooth and feminine. Next, she rearranged me on the table, placing my feet in some attachments on the end of the table. She placed straps around my ankles and moved the stirrups as far apart as possible, stepping into the space between my legs she sprayed a liquid on my groin, shortly after that there was no feeling.

She started doing away with my male organs, twisting and pushing until they were positioned where she wanted them. It took her about an hour to do the manipulation and place the prosthetic over my male area, creating a truly feminine looking vulva in the process.

I wondered why I had to have a vulva since I would always be wearing a dress for the competition. Another question for Lynn tonight. I am curious as to the necessity of having a vagina, but the thought never occurred to me to ask before my equipment is nestled behind a very female pair of lips.

Mary placed a couple of fairly heavy silicone blobs on my chest and marked their proper location. Then glue was added and allowed to get tacky. Then she turned the breast form inside out and placed a small recession in the back of the form over my nipple. She pushed down fairly hard to assure contact and adhesion. After fifteen seconds, she released the hold and positioned the rest of the breast form over my chest being sure to match the markings she had placed on my chest.

She added a little more glue to the edges of the form and smoothed the tapered edge with her finger. I had to lift my head to see the finished product; they were moving like they are made of Jell-O, always in motion. Then in between my two new mounds I caught a glimpse of my vulva, now there was no doubt as to my sex, female all the way. I knew that my few male features on the rest of my body would only enhance the feminine look.

Before Mary moved on to other things she closed the door to the treatment room and asked me to pinch my nipples, I did and let go of them fast, like they were red hot. I could feel the pinch like the nipple is actually mine. Next, she asked me to probe my new vulva, being careful not to scratch my insides with my fingernail. She supplied some lube, then watched me as I probed with my finger. My index finger was about half way in when I touched something that sent waves of pleasure through my body. Mary stated that the appliance would allow intercourse, as long as the partner is not super-endowed. That was information that I am not sure I needed to be informed of. I don’t think that I ever contemplated having sex with a male, whether I looked like a female or not.

Next comes my hair; it is shampooed and conditioned, and then dye added to convert my hair color to a strawberry blonde. Three new holes in each ear are added two studs, and a long dangly hoop is inserted into the new holes. All of this for a trial run for this new type of dance contest?

Once the dye had thoroughly processed, it is rinsed out, and a conditioner is used on me. Then back in the styling chair and she sectioned and combed out my new blonde hair. Each section is carefully cut, her aim is to create a curly up do, something perfect for dancing and quite retro. Once the cut is finished, she started winding my hair on rollers. In less than thirty minutes, my head had over sixty rollers on it. The rollers are all sizes with larger ones on the top of my head and smaller ones near my neckline.

A dryer is rolled over and the next hour is spent with the warm air cascading over my head. I nearly dozed off a couple of times, but half way through that hour Mary came back pushing a cart loaded with nail polish and manicuring supplies. She placed both my hands into bowls of liquid, letting them soak while she got ready to finish my hair.

As she started removing the rollers she told me that she had used their special setting lotion, a fairly new development of Turnabout Gurl. After just one use, to renew the curl only required the spraying of water on the hair. The curl would instantly reform and then using only warm heat the hair can be dried. Once dried the curls can be brushed out into the proper style.

I managed to see the implications of this; I was stuck with a feminine head of curls until the setting lotion finally quit working. This experiment is supposed to be for only one dance, to see if the idea might be feasible. Now destiny seems to have interceded, and there may be many dances in the future. That is particularly relevant since I had breasts and a vagina.

The nails are next, after receiving a manicure, Mary applied extensions to each of my fingernails. One look at the extensions and I will not be writing for quite some time. They extended an inch past my fingertips, seems like dancing as a female might be the only thing I am capable of in the near future. It certainly won’t be doing anything with my hands. I received a dark Burgundy polish after a basecoat had been applied. Then that is finished off with two more coats of color than a high gloss topcoat. My nails sparkled like beacons, flashing color with every hand movement.

Mary cleaned up the manicuring supplies then repositioned me in the styling chair. The chair is leaned back some, and she applied a cleansing mask to my face. That stayed on for twenty minutes; then she rubbed cream into my beard area. The fact that she used gloves to apply the cream should have given me a hint of what the cream could do, but being a male did leave me at a mental disadvantage.

That last cream stayed on for thirty minutes while she worked on my eyebrows. I was surprised that there were any eyebrows left after her attack. When I am finally allowed to see my image, there is a two hair wide pencil thin arch above each eyebrow, and that is it. As I am trying to take in the appearance of my eyebrows she is telling me that I no longer had to shave, the cream effectively killing off the hair roots. I wasn’t particularly fond of shaving anyway, but to be told that I would not have a beard ever is different. That and my eyebrows made it quite clear, my life as a female has begun in earnest.

In a way, I hoped that Lynn’s idea for the dance competitions is going to work out since I doubt that I could return to my former life or any part thereof in the future. I kept glancing in the mirror throughout the day, and each treatment left me more feminine. The male me is gone, I think for good. Even if I started dressing like a male, it would be months before the image matched the gender, if ever.

Next is makeup; Mary rolled over a cart with every conceivable cosmetic known to man, that should be woman. She tried different shades to get my colors, then showed me how to apply them. Several times she had me start over until she was finally happy with my efforts. The nails added quite a bit of difficulty to the task of applying makeup. The elegant tips making any use of my hands almost useless, especially eyeliner and mascara. I had to learn to use the pads of my fingers to grab anything, the extensions even made approaching something difficult. I did manage to somehow get makeup on me, but realized I would have to practice quite a bit to be able to do it in a reasonable amount of time.

Then the last time she showed me how to remove the makeup for bed then had me reapply the whole concoction again. Of course, Lynn took that moment to show up, standing out of my sight as I applied the cosmetics to my face. When I finished, she came over to compliment me on my skills and give me a hug. No kissing, since it would smudge my lipstick. I was lost in my thoughts, a tender kiss might be nice though.

Mary said that I am finished for the day, I looked around for my clothes, but they were not where I had left them. Lynn handed me a bag; your clothes are here. I looked in the bag, a little leery of what I would find, and true to my hunch, the clothes within are all female. I looked into the mirror; the body is now female, I guess the clothes should fit the body. I am helped into the feminine items, some of which I hadn’t seen on any female that I had ever dated.

Panties first, then a bra, followed by a camisole. The first time a male wears a bra, it seems to feminize him. There is really no individual item of a female’s lingerie that so personifies a woman as a brasserie. As I slipped my arms into the straps, it was like I was surrendering to the female gender. Then, when Lynn helped me lean forward to get my breasts in the cups, then fasten the clasp in back, it was the final step in the gender change.

Lynn couldn’t be practical and bring me some pants or, at least, a pair of shorts; no she decided I need a dress. The dress had a fitted bodice, with a full skirt that swished against my legs as I moved around. My heels are still with me, a constant reminder of my commitment to this crazy idea, but I seldom thought of them anymore since I had become used to them on my feet. We left the salon, with me being told to be back tomorrow for a lesson in female deportment and in how to manage my hair.

The walk back to the studio is uneventful but filled with lots of new feelings. The jiggling of my breasts in their bra, the feel of the earrings as the one pair swayed against my neck. All of this and more making me acutely aware of my new gender. I am now Lynnette, a female in all things I do, and a female in all of my thoughts and actions. My right hand reached for my swaying skirt to hold down the hem, my other hand to my side, although a little further out to allow for my wider hips, that courtesy of some hip padding added to the panties I had been convinced to wear.

The biggest difference is in my perception of where I am and of how seemingly all male attention is focused on me. Every male we passed seemed to take in my appearance, forming some kind of opinion of me as they passed. Lynn assured me that they were admiring my looks and whether they had a chance with me. That thought caused shivers up and down my spine. The sad truth is that I now will be a focus of that male attention whether I wished it or not.

When we got to the studio, Lynn set up some music, and she took my hands and started dancing. It was different from how we danced with me in male clothing. I am dancing in female mode, but the dynamics of the situation have changed. My breasts, the lack of a male organ between my thighs and the numerous feelings from my now feminine clothing made the dancing so different. I was in another world, following Lynn’s lead and the music made me dance like I hadn’t a care in the world. I was free, allowing my feminine feelings to guide me around the dance floor.

When the music stopped, Lynn kissed me on the lips, complimenting me on my dancing. As she put it, we floated around the dance floor as a couple, a couple in love moving as one. Now I am sure you have a lot of questions as to why there were several things done to you that you felt were not necessary.

You are a sensuous person and with the changes made to you today, the feminine instincts came to the forefront, allowing you to immerse yourself in the female gender. Thus, your dancing has become fantastic. We spent, at least, another hour practicing, although with our previous practice it is more getting comfortable in our new roles.

The heels did become painful after that extra hour, but after being able to sit for a while, it is livable with. She is ecstatic at my progress, feeling that we had a good chance to win at least one event this weekend. It had been a long day, experiencing a lot of things that I have never dealt with before. Tonight when she spooned my back, her hand found a sizable breast to massage and hold. It did feel good, but I am quite conflicted, not knowing how I should react to the feelings. Lynn did buy me some more heels, all expensive brands that fitted me comfortably, mostly four and five inch heels. Luckily not with locks. The first few steps out of the heels made my situation very clear. I was walking on my toes, to keep the pain from my calves down. My tendons had tightened in the last couple of days, now to be comfortable walking I would require some type of heel.

I noticed that with all the dancing with me in the female role I started to act more submissive. When Lynn brought something up, I acquiesced instead of offering an alternative or telling her no. Nothing bad happened because of my submissiveness, but it is a noticeable change in my demeanor. I woke early, making us some hot cocoa, and oatmeal. Lynn joined me as soon as she smelled the chocolate. We stayed up, even though my appointment is, at least, three hours away.

As I am learning to handle my hair and become a proper young lady, Lynn is going to go through her Mother’s dresses and select some that might fit the type of dancing we were going to do. Although it is extra work, she suggested that I change dresses for each different type of dance. Some of the other contestants in other local competitions had not done so, maybe costing them a chance for finishing higher in the competition.

The happenings at the salon are easier to handle today, the deportment lessons basically just common etiquette. Ballroom dancing involved some of these already, so it is not a stretch for me to master them fairly quickly.

Doing my hair, that is a totally different situation. If my nails were of a sensible length, I might have been able to get by, but since I had the ultimate in feminine nails, I learned the steps to get my hair looking proper but was unable actually to do it myself. Mary assured me that after a few days, I would be able to style my own hair. Lynn decided to use the salon’s services instead until I could do the styles myself.

That night more dancing to several different songs, most of the time I managed to lose myself in the number, dancing away like I had been doing it all my life. Lynn did have me try on her mother’s dresses, six in total and of those she selected three that would be perfect for the competition. She pinned some alterations she wanted to have done, a friend of hers would have the alterations done first thing in the morning.

Two of the dresses had plunging necklines, and Lynn decided one of them should plunge a little more. A lace-up bustier, sans the straps, is the only undergarment I could wear other than panties. For one dance where she dips me and then spins me around it is decided that a little adhesive is necessary to keep my breasts in their cups.

The day of the competition starts like a regular day, but soon my nerves and excitement get the best of me, and I lose what little I had eaten for breakfast. Lynn makes some herbal tea for me, a blend to calm me down a little. At four in the afternoon, I start to do my makeup and hair, not wanting to chance my ability to get it right the first time. Surprisingly it did come out the first time, better than I had done previously.

Lynn wanted me to do it myself, although she could help if I had trouble. The idea is that it would keep me from getting as nervous and if we are to do more competitions the practice would be valuable. She helped me with my garment bags, and we left for the club. When we arrived, we were shown to a dressing room at the back with two couples already there. One obvious female told Lynn that two female couples are not allowed, Lynn smiled, pointed to me and replied she is a male.

The lady seemed shocked but stayed, the other couple left, apparently we were too good in our roles to compete against this evening. In total, there were seven couples for the contest, although two of the couples were quite comical. I changed dresses to the first costume; then we made our way to the dance floor. You could tell that they didn’t have this as planned as it should be, several mistakes made as the contest proceeded. It wasn’t too long before we were announced and the dance started. I surrendered myself to Lynn and just followed her lead. They did have an excellent sound system, and the music swept us away.

I thought we had messed up since it was so quiet during the dance, in these clubs usually someone is saying something or remarking about the dancers as it is going on, but not tonight, I tried to think if it was this quiet when the other dancers did their turn, but I honestly couldn’t remember. The music stopped, and it was still quiet, then as she is leading me off the floor, the applause is deafening.

The other two dances were about the same; it turned out we were the audience favorite, getting more applause than all of the other couples combined. The last costume of the evening for me is quite risqué, gaining more than a little attention from the males in the audience. One of the judges seriously doubted our turnabout roles and asked to see some ID. He was positive that I was a real female trying to fool the judges. In a way Lynn was a little put out, he had no trouble with her being a real male, both of us out to make a quick buck. I kidded her quite a bit about that on the way back to her apartment.

We did win the contest that night, getting all of the judge’s votes including the judge that doubted that I was a male. I thought all the way to the apartment about our win, and what it meant for me. I knew Lynn would want to enter the other contests; apparently we could be successful at it, even knowing that the competition would be better in the future. Was this what I wanted to do, though, portraying a female all the time, that part I was indecisive about?

We opened a bottle of wine and sipped it in her living room, both of us trying to get our thoughts together to talk about the future. I eventually started the conversation, asking her if she thought we could make enough money from the contests to support us. She thought we could, but where she thought we would gain the most money is from sponsorships from some of the companies doing business with the dance community. Several of the companies doing dresses for the females would be likely candidates to use us in their advertising and furnish me with additional dresses to wear in the competition as a side benefit.

Your looks are so female, that you would be a natural for this type of ad. Once these contests pick up some more support, you will be featured on all of the dance magazine’s front covers. I corrected her; we will be featured on the front covers. I ain’t doing it if you don’t, that is final. She giggled alright we will be the featured dancers on a lot of publications.

I told her that I am not that keen on the 24/7 impersonation, she nodded, but you know it can’t be turned off and on, once you start you have to keep it up, or you will be doing nothing but changing genders in you off time. I did realize that, but could I do it for the future until we found something else to do with our lives. I told her I would think about it real hard, maybe get away for a day or two to think things through. Then I realized what I looked like; I would have to portray a female for my get away. Not my original intention, but maybe a good way to see if I can handle the female life.

Lynn had some classes she couldn’t get away from, so I was on my own. She did tell me that she is reserving a spot at the next Turnabout dance competition if I changed my mind she could always cancel. I decided to visit my older sister who lived about five hours away. I caller her and asked if I could hang out with her for a couple of days, her husband had just left on a business trip for three weeks, so she said come on. I packed my things and headed her way. I had to stop for fuel once and at a rest stop to use the bathroom, but nothing happened and I did use the proper facilities for my new gender.

I didn’t tell my sister I was in girl mode, not sure why I didn’t, it was in my original plan to do so. I drove up to her house and her two kids came running to the car. Both are girls, they paused to take a closer look at me then dragged me into the house, no comments, not even a slowdown in their conversation. Betsy, my sister, however did stare. Her mouth open, then OMG emerged. I really think it took her those few moments to figure out who I was. She tried to squeeze the paste out of me, I am sure if I had been a tube of toothpaste I would now be empty. The girls helped me bring in my things, taking them to the guest room. Meanwhile, Betsy was conducting an interrogation of me.

Over the next hour I divulged all, telling her about Lynn, her ideas and what has happened over the last few months. Betsy was intrigued about the dance contests, since she had danced some in college, she knew something about it. She grabbed her local paper and scanned the local entertainment section. There at the bottom of the page is a club that advertised it was holding a turnabout competition this weekend, of course, Betsy wanted to go. After she got the girls to bed she moved some furniture in the living room so that we could practice some. She put on some music and dragged me to the center to dance with her.

She was pretty good, as soon as she remembered she had to lead, not as good as Lynn, but quite respectable. We danced for over an hour, only to find her girls watching us from the stairs. She again put them to bed then joined me in the kitchen. I had made us some herbal tea, I for one needed the soothing tea in my body. We talked, I told her that was not my intention to come up here to dance more, but she gave me that puppy dog look that she is so good at, and of course I gave in. She has always had the ability to coerce me into doing whatever she wanted. The additional years have not changed anything, maybe her skill has been honed to perfection, but she will never admit to anything.

We danced some more during the day as she found a baby sitter, made the girl’s dinner and went through her closet looking for me a suitable dress to use for the competition. She found one, a few scraps of material that hardly covered anything, I was not happy about the choice, but she had used the evil eye on me all day, so I could hardly refuse her wish. She wore an old suit of her husband’s, with her feet in a pair of penny loafers. She slicked her hair down, no makeup, and used an ace bandage to keep her sizable breasts from ruining the effect.

Of course, I had to do the whole process starting with a bath and ending walking down the stairs in five inch heels. She was pissed to the wind that I could handle the heels better than she ever did, mumbling under her breath quite often about the fact. She drove to the club, we entered and she paid the fifty dollar entrance fee. She steered me to an empty table with her hand in the middle of my back guiding me. Each couple would be called up, having to dance the song that they had been selected for.

We were about half way in the group of participants, a typical ball room waltz played as we danced around. The judges seemed impressed, their eyes never leaving our bodies. When they announced the five semifinalists we were in that group. They started playing different songs and the couples danced to the songs. After each song a couple would be eliminated, till they were only two couples left. It took three more songs before the winner is announced, the crowd quite happy at our choice to be the winning couple. We met with the club owners, received our three hundred dollar prize, and then left after taking the time for a couple of drinks.

So when I returned home Lynn was waiting for me, shaking her head at me as I walked up to her. “So I let you go off to relax and unwind and you end up dancing again. What am I going to do with you?” I was already red in the face, as I tried to figure out how she knew what I had done. It turns out Sis had called her, bragging to her about how good a dancer I was. I was kidded some more, her only stopping when I had told her everything about the weekend.

The next competition was two weeks away, so I practiced my hair and makeup skills as Lynn helped at the dance studio. Surprisinlgy she had some interest in the turnabout dances, several couples interested in learning the reversed steps, so that they could maybe enter a contest or two. They were not out to win the competition, just wanting to have some fun doing something they would never do normally. Lynn set up a makeshift class, with her teaching the female partner to lead and I was drafted to teach the male partner how to follow. Both couples that had signed up for the class were a lot of fun, having a ball as they learned the steps.

One of the males was smaller, and would make a presentable female for the contest. The other male was taller, he looked alright dressed as a female, but his forte was his dancing. Even doing the following he was light on his feet, having fun during the entire class. We wished them luck, they were going to attend the same competition as us, but the open part of the competition. Both couples placed, the female part of the couples quite happy at the results and their husbands participation. The smaller male had confided in me that the sex before the contest was the best of their married life.

Our part was later in the evening, this contest set up and run better, we were allowed to pick our music and we were the second couple to take to the stage. All in all there were eight couples for the Waltz portion of the contest, we made the finals, most of the other couples were competent but needed to dance some more together so the dances were more relaxed not stiff and stuffy. They ran the qualifying round for each dance picking finalists then after all three had been staged, the final dance to pick the winner in each type of dance.

We easily took the top spot in each dance, again a Judge had doubted my gender, this time Lynn had my driver’s license and accompanying pictures for proof of my gender. I know it was getting to Lynn, I was questioned but she was not, obvious to everybody she was a female posing as a male.

This time we left with three thousand dollars in prize money, plus a reporter was there from one of the dance magazines wanting to do a article on us, and feature me on their front cover for next month’s issue. Lynn was all for it, I had some reservations, but I did agree to the interview eventually. An hour later the reporter had the interview done with accompanying pictures of me in all three costumes used during this contest.

Story Incomplete At Present

© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker

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