Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Guess What? Merry Christmas from Bea!

Thought I'd forgotten you - huh?  Well, I haven't - so there!

My health isn't that great.  Not awful - just can't walk worth a damn.  In all honesty, I don't visit this page much at all.  The meds I've been taking for quite a few years now have eliminated any sexual fun I once had and I just feel that I'm imposing by looking in.

I DO keep in touch with Carrie quite a lot though and kept up to speed somewhat - so would especially like to Thank Dave, Belinda - and Carrie of course.  I'm well aware that there's many more I should probably thank for keeping this blog up and running, but may of you were unknown to me when I started this blog.  It's still a matter of pride to me to see that a clean page like this can keep going - and my thanks to all the contributors who keep it this way.

For old time sakes, I've included a story - "You".  Its probably as old fashioned as all get out - but it DID have a tie-in to the original "Swiss Miss Sissy" - the only story I never finished ( lots of luck with ending it, you guys).   Many of you will probably have read this story from one of my Kindle books - I may have even published it as a Christmas story before - my memory SUCKS - so forgive me if it's not original to you.

But to all.  Hang in there - be good!  Merry Christmas - and a Prosperous New Year to you all!

Hugs

Bea



                           YOU


                                                          By Bea

Many, many, thanks to Chrissy - the Swiss miss - who provided all the technical expertise in the hairdressing stuff.  Thanks Chrissy, couldn’t have done it without you.

Your reflection smiles back at me from the bedroom mirror.  You lift your hand and honey blond hair, up from your neck - to reveal that lovely column that is just another part of you that I worship. You speak.
“Yes darling.  I do mean what I just said.  I’d like you to start wearing that panty girdle. Now?  Of course!   What in heaven’s name makes  you think I’m teasing you?”

I mumble a protest - something about it being a feminine garment, dry mouthed at giving the slightest appearance of arguing with you.  I see you shake your head, then drop your hair back down.  You start to look for some cosmetic on the dressing table top, then choose a lipstick.  You pull the cap from the tube, then slowly spiral the phallic tip of the crimson contents out, your mirrored eyes back on me again.  You lift it slowly towards your mouth.  My eyes are fixed on the lipstick - hypnotized.

Before you apply any though, you speak to me again, the tip of the lipstick just an inch from your lips.  “Darling?  You know how much you love to do as I ask, don’t you?”
I nod.
“And?” you continue, “ Do you think that I can’t tell  that you enjoy it?  That I don’t see that little tent of enjoyment at the front of your pajama trousers?”
I blush.
“But it just doesn’t seem right, does it?  I mean, you get your little tent when I ask you to do girl things like brush my hair, or wash and iron my undies.  I mean, you MUST be confused, don’t you think?  Enjoy doing little girl chores for me, and being reminded all the time that you are a man by that ‘thing’ down there?
I try to stammer an apology, but you wave your hand in dismissal.
“I’ve bought you about a dozen panty girdles to wear.  Nice, pretty colors.  Now that pair I’ve laid on the bed for you are pink - but if you think that blue is a more ‘manly’ color?  Why, I won’t argue.  You’ll find a blue in your underwear - or I guess I’ll start calling it your ‘lingerie’ drawer from now on.  More appropriate, don’t you think?  Now be a dear.  Go put your panties on, pink or blue - doesn’t matter.  Then help me get dressed.  I don’t want to be late for work.  Now?”

I make the mistake of pleading with you.  You transfix me with your reflected eyes.  Say nothing, just stare for a few seconds, then go back to anointing your lips.  Deflated, I go to the bed and pick up the pink garment, turn my back to you, then untie my pajama pants and let them fall.  Step out of them, then into the panty girdle, hoping that by picking the pair you’d “suggested” that I’d win some favor back.

I have to struggle some to fit the tight garment up over my privates and into position, but become immediately aware of the control this clothing exerts.  Can actually feel my erection decreasing until it is no more.  Hear you speak at my back, approvingly.
“My!  I’d never have believed what a cute little ass you have, darling.  You’ve been hiding it all these years!  And!  These hips!   Turn around, let me see your front..”

Ashamed, I turn to see your amused eyes survey me from the mirror.  See your lips turn upwards into an approving smile.
“There!”  you say  “Much better.  More like a girl now.  Don’t you agree?”

Totally aware of my flattened tummy and lower regions, I have to nod in agreement.  Ask a question, nervously fumbling with the suspender straps hanging down from the girdle.

“You don’t know, darling?”  you reply.  “These are for holding up your stockings.  I wasn’t going to make you wear nylons today, but if you want to?  Oh, you don’t?  Well, that’s perfectly okay darling.  Go and get my gray dress, then help me into it, would you?  there’s a pet!”

I feel rather ludicrous, walking around in just my pajama tops and a girdle, with useless straps dangling down my thighs.  I want to go and put my dressing gown on to cover my shame, but am well aware that you’ve asked me to do something and I do not wish to incur your displeasure by pausing even for a second.  I get your gray dress from the closet, then unfasten it at the back, then kneel on the floor, the dress held open for you to step into it.

As you do, you pat me on the head.  “Thank you darling.  I just love you to PIECES when you’re obedient!  Now fasten me in please.”
Blushing with pleasure at the praise, I get up from the floor, and enclose you in your dress.  You cock your head at your reflection.  “The navy court shoes, I think?  And the matching leather belt darling.  What do you think?”
I tell you that you’d look lovely, as always.

You smile kindly, then reward me by gently pulling me over to the chair, and having me drape myself over your knees.  Give me a few loving spanks on my new panties, and compliment me on how nice and girlish my squeals are becoming, and how nicely I’m learning to kick my legs.  “So satisfying darling!”  you tell me.

Later, I am horrified to discover that I have to wear my new underwear beneath my pants to work, but accept my instructions as gracefully as I can, smiling to show my appreciation for your decision.

I get dressed as you read your morning newspaper and drink your coffee, then inspect you thoroughly for any untoward creases in your clothes, errant smudges of makeup, dangling threads and so on.  This morning, you surprise me by commenting that my shirt isn’t ironed properly.
“You do SUCH a wonderful job on my clothes darling!  But I can’t have YOU going out all shabby now, can I?”
I blush happily at your concern, and indicate that I’ll go and put on another shirt.

You frown at this suggestion.  Tell me to re-iron the one I have on.  I can’t help it.  Look at the clock and remind you that I’ve been tardy for work a lot this week.
“Yes!  I’ve noticed!”  you say, but smiling.  “And, as your Regional Manager  I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that!  BUT?”  and here, your smile disappears.  “You surely realize that for me to accept a shoddy job of work from you would be signs of extreme favoritism?  I’m scheduled to visit your office this morning and, while there, expect to see that you’ve taken the time to do a job that will please me.  If your shirt isn’t impeccable?  I’ll be very disappointed.  Understand?”

You leave me, engaged in ensuring that my shirt is perfectly ironed, happily humming a little song, delighted that you have taken such an interest in my appearance.  Because of this, I am almost a half hour late getting into work.  Ruth, my secretary greets me warmly and helps me out of my jacket, then pours my coffee, while I prepare for the weekly group discussion that is scheduled for thirty minutes from now.

I manage a small office, with only six employees, excluding myself.  There is Ruth, my secretary.  Marilyn, the general supervisor.  Robert, the senior clerk.  Amy and  Becky, the clerks, and Jessica the office girl.  I consider myself a gentle manager, considerate of the employees welfare, and that is why I hold this weekly meeting to discuss any concerns that any of them may have.

You are my Regional Manager, a position of some power in the company, being responsible for the productivity and efficiency of over thirty offices like mine, except that mine is the smallest in the company.  The relationship we share is not known to anyone except Ruth, who forwards messages to me from you.  It is well known, I think, that I was the person who originally hired you into the company, when I was the senior clerk, and that you quickly and efficiently promoted up the chain, over my head to the position you now hold.  I had been promoted to head the office at your recommendation when the previous manager had resigned.  You had been concerned that you would be accused of favoritism, that is why we try to keep our relationship a secret.

To my disgust, the meeting reverts to its usual lethargy.  Jessica, as always, is pretty and feminine, serving up the teas, coffees, and pastries to everyone, herself last.  Amy and Becky quickly fall to filing their nails and smiling vacantly.  Marilyn does try to get some semblance of interest raised but fails miserably, and Ruth sits quietly, her steno pad at the ready for taking the minutes - in case anything of note is ever said.

As usual, Robert fumes, stating that the meeting is just a waste of his time.  Gently, I remind him that it is a good managerial technique to “listen” to one’s employees.  “Keep an ear to the ground” sort of thing.  He sneers openly.

When you sweep into the meeting, everyone is immediately energized.  I am a little slow in giving up my seat at the head of the table, earning a barely concealed glare from you.  (I know that you are only pretending, so that nobody will guess about us, but I still get a little tremor of fear when you look at me like that).  As everyone else has already taken their seats, I have to move down the table so that I am now sitting side by side with Jessica.  She smiles a welcome at me as I join her.

You then proceed to chastise me!  Lecture me in front of my employees about the low productivity.  Berate me for my timekeeping!  Comment that if I didn’t spend so much time on personal grooming and appearance, I might have more time for management of my group.  I can feel the tears well in my eyes at your cruel (but necessary) comments, and know that they are visible when Jessica places a consoling hand over mine on the table top.  After you leave, everyone goes quietly back to their desks.  In the privacy of my office, I shed a few tears.

That night, you convince me that your treatment of me was correct and that you have motivated me to do a better job.  I have no idea of what I’m supposed to do until you
‘agree’ with me that I need to get closer to the employees, not be such an authoritarian figure.  I am inwardly thrilled that you are agreeing with me, although I have no recollection of making such a statement, so nod my head agreeably - and often.

Your answer to my (unstated) question as to how this could be accomplished is brilliant - even I have to agree with that.  All I have to do is ask the girls if I may join them for breaks and lunches.  You pooh-pooh my consideration that they might not want a male interfering in their little chats, and suggest that it would just take a minor attitude change on my part - “be a little more feminine dear, a little less masculine” to win them over.

In your brilliant fashion, you then suggest that you can perhaps help me accomplish this.  “Here” you say, handing me a microscopic tape recorder, “Tape all of your conversations with the girls.  Then I can then perhaps make suggestions to help you fit in more.”

I look at the tiny little microphone head.   Say that I can carry the tapes in my pocket, but where would be a good place to have the head, where it wouldn’t be seen?  You think for a second.  Decide that it would not pick up the sound if I carried it in my pockets.  “Needs to be about chest high” you say out loud.  Then you crow triumphantly   “Got it!  You can carry it in your bra!  Perfect!  We’ll run the wire down under your shirt and cut a little slit in your pant pocket so that you can keep the tapes in there.  Perfect!”

When I point out, deferentially, that I don’t wear bras, you laugh and admit that you had forgotten to tell me of your purchase that afternoon. “Bought nice lacy ones for you to wear darling.  You looked so sweet in your panties, I just couldn’t resist the thought of how happy you’d be if I bought you some matching bras.  They’re in your lingerie drawer.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face.  You are immediately concerned.  Come and enfold me in your strong arms.  Kiss me tenderly.  “Oh dear!”  you exclaim.  “I didn’t mean to over-excite you .  Don’t worry!  They’ll fit just fine - and I know you’ll love how they feel on!”

I protest, weakly, that I don’t really have the figure for a bra, and try to point out that it is not a garment normally worn by men.
“Silly!”  you say.  “Didn’t you just come up with the idea that you should become a little more feminine, a little less masculine?  What would get that idea over better than wearing a bra?  It’s a perfect solution!  You’re VERY clever to have come up with it!”

I feel that something is awry here, but can’t seem to come with an argument that makes sense - particularly when what you say agrees so much with the statements I made - even though I’m a little confused on that score.  I’m further confused when you add  “And darling?  I hate to say it, but your suspender straps?”
I look at you blankly.
“Suspender straps?  From your panty girdle?”

I recognize what you are talking about.  Smile, with a question on my face.  You answer the question immediately.
“Darling?  They’re all higgeldy - piggeldy under your pants.  Just not hanging straight down as they should.  It’s really quite obvious that you have no stockings on.  Not ladylike at all. Put nylons on tomorrow.  I’d suggest you shave your legs tonight.”
“You could  s. s.s see them ?”  I stutter.
It is your turn to look blankly at me, then you smile understandingly.  “Of COURSE darling!  Any woman recognizes panty lines, suspender lines, things like that.  And suspender straps just look really tacky if they don’t have stockings to hold up.   You DO understand?”
I think I nod, but am not sure.  You seem to take it as such though.  “Good darling.  I bought you nylons along with your bras.  They’re in your lingerie drawer as well.  If you need a hand to fasten your bra tomorrow?  Just come and ask me.  I’ll be glad to help.”

The following morning I go to work.  Navy blue, lacy bra to match my panty girdle.  Smokey, gauzy nylons attached to my suspender straps.  You will not allow me to wear socks, so any gap between the bottom of my pants and shoes shows a small expanse of nylon-shod ankle.  The micro recorder is tucked safely in one of my bra cups, with the tiny cassettes located in my pocket.

I am so distraught about my underwear that I don’t think clearly.  When Ruth helps me off with my jacket, there is a pause and I know that my bra is clearly visible under my shirt.  I cringe, but follow your instructions to the letter.  Call everyone in, and suggest that, in order to cement friendly relations, we all start gathering together at breaks and lunches.

Robert gets red faced and refuses immediately.  Says that he has to listen to a bunch of women all during working hours.  He’s damned if he’ll listen to them on break and lunch times as well.  Leaves my office in high dudgeon.  I’m pretty sure he hasn’t seen my bra - but am almost positive that all the women have.  Me and the other girls giggle a little at his masculine posturing.

The women aren’t really too keen on the idea of me joining them  either but admit that,  - if I don’t act like the ‘boss’, be ‘friendly like’, they won’t mind - but I’ll have to take my turns at making tea or coffee. ‘Fair’s fair” they say, smiling, their eyes looking everywhere but at the bra outline under my shirt.

I join them at break time - and am almost immediately aware that my suspender straps and nylons,  have been noted in addition to my bra.  I am quickly assimilated into the group.  Am practically one of the girls by lunch time.  At afternoon break, I discover that it is my turn to make and serve the liquid refreshments.  Amy and Becky simper at me for a while.  I suspect that they are embarrassed at having their boss - a male, perform such a feminine function, but they soon get over it.  Becky actually hands me her teacup and asks if I’d add a little more sugar to it.

At home that evening, you listen to the tapes from that day, though I am surprised that you only listen to a few minutes worth.  You are so happy with me that you take me over your knees again for a light spanking.  I squeal so convincingly that you give me an additional few swats as a bonus.  For the first, but not the last time in my life, I learn how it feels to have one’s bra straps snapped.

Some three days later I incur your wrath, and am spanked thoroughly, this time with the hairbrush. I had, by this time, accepted another clothing article - camisoles - to the underwear I wore daily, but I must have pleaded too much when you handed me a blouse to wear that morning.  I admit later that it does look very pretty - and businesslike - on me.  Black silk with white polka dots.  Long sleeved with satin cuffs that are fastened with four pearl buttons.  A lovely white satin bow that you show me how to tie in a pretty bow at my neck.  To show it off properly, you recommend that I wear breast forms inside my bra cups.  Before I leave for work, I agree with you that my outfit is both pretty, and very becoming.

At the office, Robert eyes me with shocked disdain, but Amy, Becky and Jessica are very complimentary about my new ‘shape’ - and comment how nicely my undies show underneath the blouse fabric.  At this point, my name becomes finalized.   (Until my entering the girl’s group, I had always been addressed as mister, or ‘sir’. The latter term was dropped quickly, the former used exclusively for a while, then shortened to “miss”, then expanded to “missy” - then purely and simply, “Sissy”).

I can’t help myself.  The wearing of the blouse is now an open declaration of my effeminacy.  This, coupled with my new name, generates more and more feminine gestures and speech patterns from me.  At home that evening, I know to show  delight with the pretty apron you present to me, and clap my hands with girlish happiness when you impart the news that another three are hung up in the kitchen for me.

You compliment me on my appearance then, for the first time, apply a little lipstick, blush and mascara to my face.  Smile lovingly at my blushes when you comment how pretty I am.

I am shocked when I hear the doorbell ring, and you tell me to go and answer the door, indicating that it is probably the two guests you were expecting.  Nervously, not knowing who to expect, I open the door to find Ruth and Jessica standing there!  Neither of them seem  surprised at my appearance.  Quite mildly, you ‘suggest’ that I  mind my manners and take the ladies purses and jackets after I show them in .  I stammer an apology to them, then take these items from them and put them in our spare bedroom.  When I return, I have to serve you ladies drinks.  I am quite surprised when Jessica accepts a glass of wine.  You then instruct me to get into the kitchen and prepare dinner.  Jessica offers to give me a helping hand.  You laugh and state “No dear, thank you - but I think that Sissy should have his kitchen to himself.”

I make a nice salad, and a Shrimp St. Jaques, which the ladies rave over.  Still in my apron, you allow me to sit at the table.  You tap your wine glass with your fork, and smile, saying that you have an announcement to make.  First of all, you address Ruth and Jessica.
“Ladies?  I’m sure that you are perfectly aware that the performance of your office is sub-standard?”
Both women redden with shame,  but nod in agreement.  You continue.  “Sissy here, must be held accountable.  He is the root cause.  Accordingly, I am going to re-organize the office, effective immediately.  Ruth?  You are now the office manager.”

Ruth smiles broadly.  “Thank you, very much.  I appreciate the recognition,” she says.  “but what about Sissy?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment.”  you answer.
Jessica claps her hands in delight.  “Oh wonderful!  Congratulations Ruth!”  She smiles at me.  “Isn’t that wonderful Sissy? “ she says, then seeing my face.   “Oh!”

You turn your attention to me.  “I s that tears I see dear?  Please don’t cry.  This is all for the best, you’ll see.”
I try to smile bravely, not wanting to shame you in front of your guests.
Then you talk to Jessica.  “You may be wondering why you were asked here tonight?”
Jessica nods, and responds.  “Yes.  I WAS wondering.  Office girls don’t get this kind of treatment very often.”  She smiles broadly.  “But I KNEW that you would have a good reason!”

You are obviously flattered.  “Why thank you Jessica.  That’s a lovely compliment.  you’re still involved with the Beauty school I take it?  Almost finished your certification as a beautician?”
Jessica beams with pride. “Oh yes!  Just a few more weeks, then the final exams.  Then I’ll be finished.  Finished with a capital “F”!”
“WONDERFUL!” you enthuse.  “I assume you’ll be leaving our employ once you are certified?”

Jessica’s smile dims a little.  “Oh yes!  I’m sorry, but...”
You hold your hand up to stop her.  “No Jessica!  No apologies needed!  But I wanted to ask if you’d mind taking Sissy on as your trainee while you still worked for us?”
Jessica giggles.  “Train Sissy as the office girl?”
“Exactly!”  you answer, then continue.  “Let me explain.”

As you say this, you rise from your chair and come around the table to stand at my back.  Put your hands possessively on my shoulders.
“Sissy and I have had a ... relationship.. for some time.  Recently, he started showing increasing tendencies towards the .. ahem ... feminine.  I’m assuming that you girls noticed this?”
Both Ruth and Jessica nod solemnly.
You continue.  “I know that he seems happier now, but his pre-occupation with womanly things seems to have impacted on his efficiency.   He is also showing an increasing propensity towards becoming a girl - as evidenced by his recent wish to join all of you ladies and become, in effect, ‘one of the girls’?”
You pause, and the girls nod again.

Your hands tighten slightly on my shoulders as you start to speak again.  “I want him to be happy.  I’m not one hundred percent sure that he’d actually enjoy living as a female, so think a little trial run would maybe help make up his mind for him?   So  Jessica?  If you were to be  his mentor in things feminine?  Who better to introduce him to makeup, hair, how to walk and talk properly ... all these things that real girls take so much for granted? 

If he still wishes to be a woman after that trial period?  Then I am positive he will be that much more knowledgeable about what is involved and what the advantages and disadvantages are.   Right darling?”  At this point, I feel you lean over and kiss me tenderly on the neck.
“But office girl darling?”  I say, trying to keep the complaint out of my voice. “And?  What about Marilyn and Robert?  Won’t they be upset at being passed over?”

“Isn’t that sweet?”  you ask the girls.  “So concerned about others!”  You nuzzle my neck fondly again.  “No dear, I’ve transferred Robert to another office as manager.  He’s gone.. You’ll never have to put up with him again.  Marilyn has agreed to stay on in her current position because I explained that this new set up is only temporary.  I need Ruth to get some managerial experience ...”
“Just temporary?”  I break in quickly.
“Of course, you little silly!”  you tell me.  “You don’t possibly think that I’m  going to make you  an office girl for ever - surely not!   It’s just to take advantage of Jessica’s skills while we have her - and I can’t have her training someone higher up the chain now, can we?.

I told you the other night that you needed to get closer to the troops.  This is the perfect opportunity for you to learn from the ground up.  That’s why I’ve been pushing you to wear women’s clothes - I mean you can’t be an office girl in pants and a tie, can you?”
  You will help me out, won’t you sweetie?  Just for a week or so?”

“Well ... okay.  Just to help you out - and for a short time!”  I say firmly,  pretending that my permission is being given grudgingly.
“You little doll!” you say and give me a kiss. “Now why don’t you leave the dishes until later.  I’ve got business matters to discuss with Ruth.  Run upstairs with Jessica, and have her help you pick out your clothes for tomorrow.  I’ve bought you some pretty skirts to wear for your new job.  They’re lying on top of the bed.  Don’t forget to hang them all up when you’re finished though!”

By this time I’ve become inured to the idea of wearing female attire to the office.  After all, when you’re encased in women’s clothing almost from top to bottom, does a skirt make that much of a difference?   And only for a couple of weeks?  I can do that easily, I thought.

 Jessica comes with me and helps me choose my outfit for the next morning - a long silky straight skirt, with a gray background and a motif of rectangular pink and blue geometric shapes.   This and a plain white silk blouse makes a nice statement (according to Jessica) of one being a junior employee, along with a certain measure of sophistication.  She then starts giving me tips on how to apply makeup, what colors are good for my complexion and so on. I notice some high heeled shoes in my closet, but say nothing to her about them.

We are distracted  by your voice calling upstairs  “Sissy!  Clean up time.  Dishes have to be cleared away and washed!

We hurriedly tidy up the bedroom, then report back downstairs.  I’m just about to go start tidying away the dishes still on the table when you call me back into the room where all three ladies are sitting.   You smile at me.  “Sissy?  Ruth has a problem.  She thinks that you may find it difficult to report to her.  But you  don’t have any problems with that, do you?”
I don’t trust my voice, so shake my head.
“Very good!  Now let’s just show Ruth that you recognize her as your boss.  Come over here and curtsey nicely to her.  That’ll show that she’s your mistress at work, just as I am here.”

Humiliated, I am frozen to the spot.  Just cannot get my feet to move.  You stop smiling and look grave.  Get up from your chair and come to where I’m standing.
“All right Sissy.  You don’t have to curtsey,”  you say, taking hold of my forearm and leading me over to where Ruth is sitting  “Just go over her knees instead.”

Ruth looks surprised at first, then smiles.  Holds a hand out for me to take.    I offer no resistance as she gently pulls me down and over her knees.  She only gives me a half dozen swats, but I hear both her and Jessica start to giggle as I squeal girlishly and kick my legs.  Her swats are quite painful as well.  I’m embarrassed when I start crying.

You shake your head sorrowfully. “ Now darling?  Why don’t you go over Jessica’s knees as well?  It’s high time you learn that any woman in that office is going to be your superior for the next few weeks.”
Still weeping a little, I get up from Ruth’s knees and start walking to Jessica.  She holds her hand up to stop me.  Asks you if she can ask a favor instead.
“Of course!”  you say.  “What do you need?’
“As part of my certification?  There’s different tests - manicures, pedicures,  makeovers, and hairdressing  Could I possibly use Sissy as my model for the hairdressing contest?  It would be great if I could.  See, the style I want to use is the bouffant lacquered look that was so popular back in the sixties.”
Sounds okay to me.”  you say  “But wouldn’t you need a more experienced model?”

Jessica nods.  “Yes, but I want to use a cool set - which means that I can’t use a drier so  the rollers have to be in for a long time.  It’s kinda uncomfortable, so none of the models are keen on the idea.  He’d be perfect!  His hair is nice and full - maybe just a teeny bit short, but the contest is not for two weeks, so it should be just the right length by then.  Not only that?”  she clapped her hands “Just dawned on me.  I have to show photos of the ‘before’ and ‘after’ conditions of his hair.  What a difference there’ll be!  WOW!”

You smile indulgently at her enthusiasm.  “Yes Jessica.  I bet that Sissy is just thrilled at the idea.  Right Sissy?”
But before I can answer, Jessica says.  “But there is one thing more?”
You just nod, and wait for her to talk again.
Jessica twists her lips a little.  “Well?  Sissy’s cute, but his figure needs work.  He needs to lose about ten pounds. A diet would work, but there isn’t enough time.  I think I’d rather have him  start corset training as soon as possible - and the ‘tight lace’ routine at that.  It will cut down on his appetite, and help define a more girlish waist line.  I’m not well off - and good corsets are expensive, but I’ll pay for two, if that’s okay?”

You smile widely.  “What a perfectly marvelous idea!  No Jessica, you won’t need to buy anything.  I’m sure he’ll just love to wear a nice tight corset - and I have a place in mind that has an extensive inventory.  It may take a day or so, so why don’t you get a tape measure from that drawer over there and measure him for one.  I’ll call in his sizes tomorrow.”  You turn to me.  “Now isn’t that thrilling darling!  And wasn’t that nice of Jessica not to spank you - when you richly deserved one?”
I agree emphatically, so you add  “ Then?  Go and thank her by giving her a nice curtsey.  Please?”
This time, I quickly comply with your suggestion, curtseying prettily for Jessica.  She blushes with pleasure.

The rest of the evening is spent with me being measured by Jessica for my corsets - which seems to require a lot of data that doesn’t seem to line up with what one would need for a corset - and practicing walking in my new shoes.  The dishes had to be done of course, but that didn’t take long after Ruth and Jessica wished us good night.  You were very quiet, which made me quite fearful but I finally got brave enough to break in on your thoughts.
“Dear?  May I ask you something?” I say.
“Yes darling, “ you reply quietly.. “Of course.”
“I don’t really understand why we’re being so nice to Jessica.  I mean I know that you said I want to be a woman, but that’s not really true....”
“Oh  darling!  You little silly!  Of course I know you don’t want to be a woman!  But this is a great possibility for you to learn how the female mind works.  Will provide you with all sorts of insights when you move on to your next job...”
I gaze at you in delighted admiration.  “You are considering me for another job?  A promotion?”
“Of course!  Didn’t I say you were only going to be an office girl for a few weeks?  Don’t you trust me?”
Chastened at showing so little faith in you, I blush and apologize.  You accept the apology  gracefully.  We agree not to discuss the subject again.

The following morning found me very nervous and not looking after you properly.  You understood though - I was to be introduced as the new office girl - and I was nervous about how I would be accepted - and what I should wear.  You were even kind enough to  have me model my undies and show you my choice of skirt, blouse, and shoes.

It dawned on me that I was rapidly becoming used to dressing and acting like a woman.  In a very short time, I had become used to lingerie.  And now, even though it was only the second day I’d worn a blouse, I was not that disturbed at wearing a skirt and high heeled shoes.  As I’d gone into my drawers for the lingerie, and my closet for the skirt and blouse, I’d noticed that my male clothes had practically disappeared.  I knew it was only for a few weeks, but this meant that you didn’t want me being constantly reminded of my real sex - which meant you were concerned about me.  This made me quite happy and  I actually hummed a little tune as I fitted my bra, then filled the cups with the forms.

I found myself getting sexually aroused as I slid my nylon stockings up my legs, attached them to the suspender straps, then checked my seams to ensure that I’d put the stockings on properly.  Once I had stepped into my skirt and fastened it at the waist though, the girdle was working its magic again and the evidence that I had some masculinity left disappeared.  The blouse felt nice.  Really silky.  I unfastened the skirt waistband, tucked the hem of the blouse in, then fastened the skirt again.

I was a little concerned about my hair, but you consoled me by pointing out that it was probably going to be one of the first things that Jessica would work on.  You were very supportive - even helped me apply my makeup, then loaned me a nice set of matching gold chain necklace and bracelet.

You drove me to the office and came in with me, just for a little while you said.  We were the last ones in.  Ruth was in the process of moving her personal belongings into my old office, but took the time to call everyone together for you to make an impromptu announcement.  With your arm protectively around my shoulders, you announced my new title and described what my new duties were to be.  You finally admitted that you and I had a ‘relationship’, but warned everyone that you would be very unhappy if anyone treated me with any kind of deference because of our relationship.  “He’s only going to be the  office girl for a short time,”  you said  “Don’t be treating him any differently than you did Jessica.  Understood?”

Everyone smiled.   You let go of my shoulder.  “You may as well start now, Sissy.”  you said.  I’m sure we’d all like a cup of coffee or tea?”
In one of Jessica’s nicest aprons, I was serving the beverages to the ladies less than ten minutes later.

After you left, I settled down into my new job with remarkably few glitches.  Amy had taken over Robert’s position, and both Becky and Jessica had moved up a notch.  Marilyn continued as she had always done.  I found her to be a pleasant and courteous boss.
At the morning break, I discovered that the making of the coffee and tea, and serving of same - plus all the clean up was now my responsibility, totally.  I didn’t mind this, really.  It was a break from all the filing and photocopying the ladies were asking me to do.  On top of that?  To tell the truth, I was beginning to like the feeling of walking around in a skirt, and serving gave me the opportunity.

At lunchtime, Jessica did a quick wash and set on my hair, apologizing for her ‘rushed’ job, but she was well aware that Ruth would not want me parading around in rollers, so this limited what she could do.  She did, however, pierce my ears and put in temporary gold posts.  I was quite proud of myself.  I did flinch a little, but didn’t shed one tear.
“What about the holes though Jessica?  Won’t it take a long time for them to disappear?”
“Why would you want to know that?”  she started, then  “Oh, I see!  Shouldn’t take long Sissy - maybe a week or two after you stop wearing earrings, that’s all.”

I think everyone was embarrassed a little at one incident in the morning.  I’d needed to go to the bathroom and was actually entering the ‘Gents’ when Ruth saw me and called out “Sissy?”
“Yes Ruth?”  I answered.
She actually looked a little flustered.  “Sissy?”  she coughed.  “I think.. well... considering the clothes you’re wearing...?”
I plucked nervously at the silky material of my long skirt, still with no idea of what she was getting at.   Jessica saw the problem immediately.  Came and took me by the arm.
“She means,” she whispered  “that you should be using the ‘Ladies’  now.”

I blushed the most furious blush ever.  Could practically feel my toes turning red!  Then Jessica added to my embarrassment by whispering   “Better remember to pee sitting down from now on.”

At that point, it was as if veils had been lifted from my eyes.  What had I done?  Somehow, I had managed to work my way DOWN a hierarchy, from boss - to OFFICE GIRL!  I was standing there in a skirt, blouse, and female underwear.  I had been told that I couldn’t use the ‘men’s’ any more.  I had to use the ‘ladies’ - and pee sitting down!  For a moment, all I wanted to do was run away - but then reality set in.  In a skirt and blouse?  Where would I go?  I had no money of my own any more, as you had wisely determined that you were much better at handling our finances.  I had no friends either - all my men friends you had felt were bad examples for me.  And, most important - I REALLY did need to go to the bathroom.  Still blushing, I went into the ladies, and sat down in a cubicle to pee.  Again I consoled myself with the fact that it was only for a few weeks.

That afternoon as I was sitting on break with the other girls, Ruth stuck her head out of her office door (she didn’t want to sit with her employees, I’d found out).   “Sissy dear?  Do you have a moment please?”
“Yes  Ruth”  I said, putting my knitting down and hurrying into her office.

To my surprise, she was sitting in a straight back visitor’s chair instead of behind her desk.  She smiled across the room at me, but didn’t invite me to sit.
“You were late getting to work this morning dear.”
“Oh yes  Ruth - and I’m dreadfully sorry...”
“Of COURSE you are dear.  But it’s not something I intend to put up with.  So come over here...”
And she was pointing to her lap!  She wanted me over her KNEES!

“Oh Ruth.  Please don’t.”  I pleaded going over to where she sat.  “It wasn’t my fault...”
“You going to blame Brenda?”  she asked.
I was so stunned to hear your name spoken that I could only stare at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.  ‘I say something bad?”
“I’m not allowed to call her by name”  I admitted fearfully.
She threw her head back and laughed for a moment, then brought her head down and stared at me, still smiling   “A sort of SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED sort of thing?”
I nodded.
“Well Sissy.  Here, I’m your boss. Here, I’m the one that must be obeyed.  Weren’t you told that last night?”
“Yes.”  I answered meekly.
“By her?”
I didn’t answer except to sigh, then walk over to Ruth's chair and lay down over her knees.
“That’s better.  Much better!”  I heard her say.

 Slowly then, I felt the hem of my skirt being pulled up, riding against the back of my legs.  Then it was my slip that was being treated in the same manner, but more sensuous now, the air feeling cool against my bared backside, the lace edging of the slip tantalizing the material of my nylons.  A few moments later, I knew that both the skirt and slip had been pulled up all the way, feeling them bundled about my waist.
“What’s this?” she asked, giving my panty girdle a light slap.
“My panty girdle Ruth.”
“Call me ‘Miss Ruth’ Sissy, when I talk to you,” she said sharply, giving my backside a resounding spank.
“OW!” I cried.  “Sorry Miss Ruth.”
“That’s better!  But why aren’t you wearing nice frilly panties?  Sissy panties?’
Unthinking, I replied,  “Because  Brenda wants me to wear these!”

She caressed my buttocks gently.  “I thought you weren’t supposed to say her name?” she cooed, her voice soft and dangerous in my ear.
“Oh God!”  I moaned as her implication struck me.  “Please don’t tell her Miss Ruth!”
“Well, maybe I won’t.  But only if you are a nice obedient little girl.  Okay?”
“Thank you!  Thank you!”   I babbled.  “I’ll be a good girl.  Honest!”
“Well, you tell Brenda tonight that I’d prefer you to be wearing prettier panties!  Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Ruth”  I sniveled.
“Because the next time I find you improperly dressed, you’ll get spanked out there in front of all your little friends.  So keep that in mind!”

With that, she started to spank me.  She only used her hand, but I knew that the sounds of the slaps were being heard in the outer office and, if they weren’t, my squeals and sobs were.  Some few minutes later, red and watery eyed, I was washing my face with cool water in the ladies room.  None of the other girls talked to me for a while.  I think they sensed my embarrassment, but I appreciated their kindness.  At the same time, I promised myself revenge against Ruth.  I wasn’t going to be an office girl forever, that was for sure!

You were late getting home that night.  A little tired looking I thought as I served up your dinner, but with a contented glow about you.  Afterwards, as you lounged in your chair sipping your after-dinner drink, you said.  “Hear you have to wear little frilly panties for Ruth?  You’ll be happy to know I bought you some this afternoon - when  I got your corsets.  Just wait until you try them all on!  You’ll feel like the belle of the ball!”

I was puzzled, and my face must have showed it.  “Something bothering you sweetie?”  you asked.
“No.  Not really.  I was just wondering when you spoke to miss Ruth?  You hadn’t said anything...”

It was one of the few times I’ve ever seen you flustered.  “Ah, eh, I thought I’d drop in and see her on the way home...”
“But she left the office before I did, and I didn’t...”
“Would you stop this girlish nattering!” you exploded.  “Get these dishes done! Jessica’s coming over to work on you tonight - get you started on your corset training!  Get a move on!”

Jessica didn’t waste any time when she arrived.  “Right Sissy!  Let’s get your corset on.  Sooner the better!”

At this, you brought them out of the carry bag you’d brought them home in.  Grinning, you held both of them up for  view, one at a time.  I gulped.  How could I be expected to get in one of these things?  Both were long line that would stretch from just under the bust line to just above my groin.  the light blue one was satin faced, the yellow one was taffeta.
“Both can be used for sleeping in.” you told Jessica. “I told Elaine at the shop what you were trying to do and she agrees - you’ll have to go to a ‘tight-laced’ program - and twenty four hours a day at that!”

You turned to me.  “Just as well you’re going to lighter weight panties now - the girdles wouldn’t have gone with these as well.  I got you nice light shades as well - won’t show under your other clothes as much.  Wasn’t that nice of me?”
I tried my best to smile my appreciation of your thoughtfulness, but wasn’t too sure if I was successful or not.

Jessica gave me enough privacy to let me change into my new panties.  I picked a nice lacy pair, oyster shade to match the bra I was wearing.  Then she made me step into the yellow corset and pulled it up around my waist.  Pulled the laces tight.  It didn’t feel that bad at all, I thought.  Kinda comforting as a matter of fact.
“Take a deep breath in Sissy.”  she said.
I did, and suddenly felt as if a vice was being clamped about my middle!
“OOOH!”  that’s too tight Jessica!” I complained.
She laughed.  “We Just STARTED Sissy!  Another deep breath in!”

A few minutes later, I was on the verge of fainting.  Could not breathe, other than in shallow little gasps.   Saw the womanish shape of the person wearing the yellow corset in the mirror, but felt that I was too close to the point of collapse to recognize myself.

Jessica laughed unsympathetically.  “You’ll live.  By next week, I want another two inches off that waist.  Just wait and see, by then you’ll be so used to it that you won’t feel right when you do finally take it off!”

She spent the rest of the evening “getting me started in the right direction”.  Checked the holes in my ear lobes to make sure they were fine - they were.  Plucked my eyebrows.  Started work on my fingernails, showing me what she wanted in the way of shaping.  Tutted at the shape of my toenails - and started me caring for them.  Gave me some rudimentary lessons in applying makeup - but the main thing she did was shampoo my hair and give it a light set.   “May as well start training your hair now.  Get you used to setting lotion  and sleeping in curlers and a hair net.” she said “  Make your hair more like a girls.  Don’t want to do too much before the contest, but can’t have you walking about in nice clothes with your hair a mess, can we?.”

 I must admit that I felt uncomfortable as she soaked my hair in setting lotion, then put the rollers in, pinning them in place. 
“Seems awfully perfumed Jessica.”  I complained.
“That’s right.  It is.”  she said.  “Once we get started applying lacquer though, you need to have something smelling pretty to counteract it.  Just getting you used to it.”
When my hair is rolled and pinned to her satisfaction, she pulls a heavy duty, pink, hairnet out and puts it on over her work.  “I want you wearing this every night until the competition now Sissy.  Okay?”
“”Yes Jessica”  I say obediently.  “Do I take the rollers out tomorrow?”
“You?  NO!  I’ll take them out tomorrow morning in the office.  Just get in a half hour early.  You’re not going to touch your hair until I know you’re properly trained!”
The thought of going to work with my hair in its present condition humiliates me, but I decide not to argue.

As the night wears on, I find that I am becoming accustomed to the corset - and am stupid enough to say so.  Jessica promptly loosens the laces - and then pulls them in tighter!  I feel as if my eyes are crossing.  And then it dawns on me!
“Jessica?” I pant fawningly.  “How can I take this off?”
She looks at me as if I’m crazy.  “You can’t!  That’s all there is to that!”
“But?  I need to shower?  What do I do then?’
“Ask Brenda you silly bimbo!  Who do you think!”
“Get HER to help me undress and dress?”
“Of course!  She knows all about it!”

You giggle when I model for you.  In honor of the occasion Jessica has removed the gold posts from my ears and replaced them with long glittery earrings that glitter crazily as I walk.  I’m also wearing the yellow peignoir that I’ve discovered hanging in my closet - that matches the yellow nightgown under my pillow.  My nylons are attached to the suspender straps of the corset now, and I’m wearing high heeled slippers.  Jessica has  made me up a little more dramatically than I’m used to.  You giggle at the hair net.

After Jessica leaves, you have me pour you another drink, then come and sit beside you on the couch.  You put an arm around me and give me an amorous kiss. Your hand slithering over my corset and cupping my breasts.  “Mmmm!  You feel SO pretty! Smell  just like a girl!  Know what?  I think we should get married!”

I gasp.  “Honest?  Oh dear!  Yes!  When?”
You consider for a minute. “Didn’t want to tell you so soon, but I’ve been promoted to International Sales V.P.  Have to take off on a sort of ‘introductory’ tour in just over two weeks, right after Jessica’s contest.  Thought I’d take you with me - a sort of honeymoon?”  You grin. “Combine business and pleasure?’

Inside my layers of  whalebone (or whatever) taffeta, chiffon, and nylon, I quiver uncontrollably and slide into your arms.  You start to caress and kiss me....  I play the feminine role in our lovemaking .. not that that’s anything new.  Afterwards, I wear my pretty yellow nightgown over my corset when I go to bed.

You fall asleep almost immediately, but I lie there awake, very uncomfortable in my corset, well aware of the perfumed air that surrounds me, and finding it hard to get used to the rollers in my hair.  They’re not tight, but it feels like anywhere I move my head on the pillow, another roller decides to make me uncomfortable.  I’m also excited about the upcoming wedding.  I’m going to be your husband!   

The following morning, I almost weep as you can’t stop laughing as you first of all loosen my corset laces, then retighten them after I’ve finished my shower.  You tease me about the frilled shower cap you make me wear to protect my hair do.  Tease me about the little yellow dress you have me wear.
“Oh!  What a handsome husband I’m going to have!”  you giggle. “SO masculine in your pretty little yellow dress - and these rollers in your hair!  And that perfume!” 

I start to cry at your teasing, so you punish me for that by giving me my very own handbag, and putting my lipstick and other cosmetics in it.  You drive me to the office a half hour early, but don’t come in.  “Have Jessica drive you home tonight dear.  Tell her she can stay for dinner.  That way, she can continue your training with less interruptions.  You’re going to be SUCH a pretty girl!”  you laugh, “ Just can’t wait to see your hair!”

Jessica’s waiting impatiently.  “That’s a very nice dress sissy,”  she says  “But step out of it for a minute.  I want to check your corset laces.”
“Oh Jessica!”  I complain.  “I’m laced tight!  Honest!”
“Sissy?  We can do it now, or wait for the other girls to come in and see your pretty corset, because I’m going to check it now or later.  What do you think?”

She was able to tighten the corset more, as she’d thought.  Again, I was breathless for a long time until I got used to it.  But I was able to get my dress back on before the other girls came in. 

I was surprised at how quickly she did my hair.  Her fingers deftly removed the rollers and pins, then she started doing something at the back.  Brushing it, then spraying it very lightly, brushing it again and smoothing it with her hand.
“What are you doing?”  I asked.
“It’s just some backbrushing or teasing,”  she said “Gives your hair body.  This isn’t a proper job.  I just want to start preparing you for what will be going on during the competition.”

Then she started combing the hair out on the top of my head.  Hardly used any spray thre at all.  When she stepped back and let me see myself, I gasped.  I could tell it was me - but barely.  It was a very feminine looking girl who was looking back at me from the mirror.  Jessica gave me a hug.  “You look terrific!”  she said.  “I’m SO glad you’re going to be my model!  You’re going to WOW all the judges.  I promise!”

She gave me a net bag to take home with all my rollers and cans and cans of laquer’ and plastic bottles of hir setting lotion - extra firm.  “Remind me to take these with us when we go home to your house tonight.   I’ll drive  and?  by the way?  here’s a little portable can of hair laquer.   I don’t want you using it until I tell you - just keep it in your purse for now.”

I was very shy and timid when the other girls came into the office, but they were all very complimentary to me - and Jessica for the job she was doing.  There were a few surprised looks at me ‘new’ figure, but they guessed at the means that had been used fairly quickly.  Amy actually sympathized with me - said something about “bloody girdles” when I took her coffee to her that morning, but smiled so that I knew she was talking ‘woman to woman’..

Later, in her office, miss Ruth lifted the skirt of my dress and approved my panties.  She spanked me afterwards in the afternoon, for spending time on my nails when I should have been filing documents for her.  It was just a light one though, and I didn’t cry.  She left early that day.  Didn’t say where she was going.

It was strange.   You were home early for once.  Not only that?  I could have SWORN I saw miss Ruth driving her car up our street when Jessica took me home.  You seemed very happy about something, but just stared at me coldly when I asked if Ruth had been there.  I decided that I didn’t need an answer, so went off and made dinner.

Over the next week, I fell into a sort of routine.  I became a girl to all intents and purposes.  I had become used to my tight corsets and knew that my weight was dropping rapidly - I just didn’t have the appetite. Jessica came by every evening, but it wasn’t really needed now.  I’d learned to walk, talk, and act like a girl.  My nails were pretty  and I was well versed in makeup, and more than confident wearing my dresses and skirts.

Miss Ruth still used every and any, excuse to spank me in private, but it was more of a game now.  I still squealed and wriggled, but she didn’t hurt me any more.
Jessica still did my hair every night, but was starting to allow me to work with it now and then.  She was getting very nervous about the competition.

I was in two minds about the wedding ceremony you had set up.  Just you, me, and the girls from the office - and the minister of course.   I was well aware that we had an extremely limited circle of friends, but I really did want to show off the great catch I’d made - though I was well aware of how others saw our relationship, and knew that I didn’t show in the most masculine of lights.  Once I got back into men’s clothes agai n though, I thought vaguely - then we’d see what was what.

Then the shock when I discovered that you had moved the ceremony up to just hours after Jessica’s competition because of a schedule change - and that we now were having to have the wedding in our own place!  I was frantic about all the extra cleaning and preparing that was going to be needed, but you told me not to worry - and made all the arrangements for cleaners and caterers.
“But I’ll need time to change dear.”  I said .
“Don’t worry darling.  You’ll have all the time you need.  After all, we can’t have the ceremony without you now, can we?’
I apologized for being such a worry wart and you kissed me nicely.

I was also put out a little when I discovered that Miss Ruth was going to be joining us on our trip.  I’d loved the idea of us having two months of traveling together, seeing the world, just you and me - but your explanation that the company required you to take an office manager with you as a ‘consultant’  sort of bothered me.
“But I was an office manager.”  I complained softly  “why couldn’t you have taken ME?”
You hugged me consolingly.  “But you’re an office girl dear.  She’s a manager  now.  And aren’t you glad I’m not bringing some stranger along?”

I’d complained when I found out that we had always booked a suite - and an adjoining room at all the hotels we were going to stay at.   “Dear?  Can’t you get a room for her on another floor? I’d really feel better with a little more privacy.”  I cooed.
“I promise you dear!  You’ll have all the privacy you need!”  you said.

The competition was to be on a Saturday afternoon.  Our wedding was to be at eight thirty that same night.  I was surprised when Jessica appeared at our place on the Thursday night, visibly excited.
“Okay Sissy!  Time to get this show on the road!  Get your dress off.  Put a robe on!  let’s go girl!”
“First of all Jesica!  I am NOT a girl!”  I said, laughing lightly so that I wouldn’t hurt her feelings. “As you’ll find out in a day or two .  Second?  This is Thursday night!  You’ve made a mistake.  The competition isn’t until Saturday!”

Her jaw dropped, then she GLARED at me!  “Sissy!  I’m in no mood for bullshit just now!  I’m nervous and excited!  Give me any trouble and, so help me, I’ll put you over my knees and give you a damn good paddling.  Now, get upstairs and get that dress off.  NOW!”

Well, I could see that she was nervous and excited.  Didn’t want to raise any kind of fuss though - it might disturb your relaxation period watching TV.  I knew she was just a feminine little thing, but was scared I might hurt her if she attacked me physically.  I just pursed my lips and led her upstairs.  Took my dress off, then hung it up.  Put on a lacy peignoir.  Then I found that she wanted to shampoo my hair! I started to protest.  This was too much!  But then she glared at me again, so I decided it was better for a peaceful evening if I let her do what she wanted.

She took much longer than usual, and it was a new shampoo, one she’d never used before - very perfumed. It actually caught my breath one time, it was so strong.  Then she rinsed it thoroughly - I mean about five or six full rinses.  then, she put on a pair of gloves and started massaging a creamy solution into my hair.  It felt nice, and it seemed to cut the perfumed odor of the shampoo a little, so I didn’t complain.

Then, she started a timer.  Handed me a Vogue magazine to read.  “There’s a nice article in there about lipsticks with sunblock.  You might find it interesting?”
I was not going to argue with her.  After all, I wouldn’t need this kind of information any more, but read it for want of anything better to do.  Then I read another article about a  new polyester fiber, then something else.  It must have been a half hour, when the timer went off.
“Thank goodness!”  she said  “Almost done!”  then she rinsed my hair, again thoroughly.

She seemed to have regained her sanity, so I asked her - politely.  “What was all this in aid of Jessica?  And, aren’t you going to dry my hair?”
“I’m sorry I was mean to you Sissy.  But didn’t I tell you I was going to dye your hair for the contest?’
“Dye.... My .... hair?”  I gasped.
“Yes - it looks like it’ll be great.  Champagne Blonde.  Just wait, you’ll like it!”
“Blonde?  Blonde!  What will .. what will...”
“What will Brenda say?”  Jessica asked.
“Yes.  What if...” I started.
“She approved the color Sissy.  She knows all about it.  She and I discussed it.  She’s all for it.”
“But I have to get it out before we get married.  I can’t get married as a Champagne Blonde.  Good heavens!  I’ll have to...”
“You better ask her before you do something rash.”  Jessica warned me.

Then, as I sat speechless, considering what she’d just said,  she put some rollers in my hair - just lightly, then wrapped a silk scarf around my head in a turban. 
“There Sissy.  Just brush out out lightly in the morning before you come to work.  Don’t be spraying it with anything, or trying anything fancy.  Understand?”

I guess that I had become used to the perfume given off by my hair.  You hadn’t though, and that night, laughingly refused me access to our bedroom.  “Hate to tell you honey” you laughed  “but you smell like a whorehouse.  Not tonight Josephine!”
I was hurt, but went and slept in the spare room.

I was actually flattered when I saw the color of my new hairdo on the Friday morning.  It was very feminine.  Not a bright, yellowy, blonde.  Very ladylike.  I brushed and combed it out, and actually admired myself in the mirror.  I was getting to be quite an attractive girl I thought as I put my lipstick on.  A shame that I was giving it up in a day or two.

Amy and Becky were enchanted by the change, oohing and aahing, and complimenting Jessica - who was delighted in how her handiwork had played out.  Marilyn made a nice comment, and  even Ruth gave me a twisted, mocking, smile but said nothing.

I was doubly surprised then when Ruth told me to take off at noon.
I stared at her.  “I’m sorry Miss Ruth, but why?”
She stared back.  “You don’t know?  Jessica’s going to need you.”
“For what?”  I asked.
She just laughed and shook her head.  “Good God!”  was all she said.

And Jessica did.  She was standing waiting for me when I came out of Ruth’s office.
“What’s keeping you!” she said impatiently.  “Come on!”

She hurried me home.  Was going to rush me upstairs but, for once, I put my foot down.  Tearfully said that I was going to eat some lunch.  She pursed her mouth but agreed - only if I let her tighten my corset before we did.  I let her, and it did cut my appetite down a lot, but I felt I’d finally stood up for myself - like a man should!  She wouldn’t let me put my dress back on though, had me put on a negligee instead.

That afternoon was a shocker!  My hair was washed in the heavily perfumed shampoo again, then rinsed, then doused in another perfumed setting lotion.  Then Jessica combed two parallel parts about three inches apart running from the back of my head to the front.  Then she put on this huge roller, and rolled the hair on, really tightly!  I squealed, but she paid no attention.  Pinned the roller firmly in place.  Then another right behind it.  Then another right behind that!  I had tears in my eyes with my hair being pulled like that.

“Ah shut UP! Sissy!”  Jessica complained. “Stop being such a goddam wimp!”
I gritted my teeth.  Wimp indeed!  I’d show her once I was back to being a man again!

She applied rollers, tightly, all over my head, smaller ones now, constantly spraying with light coats of lacquer as she did so.  The combined smells of lacquer and perfume almost suffocating.  When she finished, I was  dizzy.  She peered into my eyes.
“Look Sissy?  I know this is all strange to you - and not that pleasant.  But don’t touch anything!  Got it?  I’m going, but I’ll come back here before you go to bed.  If you’ve done anything to your hair?  I’ll KILL you!  Leave it alone!  Understand?”
In a haze of perfumed euphoria, I smile and nod.
She wraps my hair up in some gauzy material, then leaves.

I doze off.  Am awakened by you peering into my eyes and tapping me on the forehead with your finger.  “Sissy!  Sissy!  Anybody home?  wake up!  When’s dinner?”

I struggle up out of my chair, stupified with sleep, feeling as if I’ve been drugged.  With a shock, I see that it’s past six o’clock, and I haven’t  even started preparing dinner yet!  I feel so guilty about not taking care of you that I nearly start to cry.

You don’t make me feel any better when you start to laugh at my appearance.  “Good God Sissy!  What have you let Jessica do to you?  Have you seen yourself?  But here, before you look in the mirror, put these earrings on.  They’ll go with your rollers I think.”
You had been digging about in your costume jewelry box, and hand be a pair of huge hoop earrings.  They look very heavy but are surprisingly light.

You roar with laughter as I make my way over to the mirror, staggering a little as I’m still not properly awake, My negligee wafting about me, and the huge earrings banging against my jawline as if they had a life of their own.  I do weep as I see my reflection, a scared, feminine face with high arched eyebrows, pouting red lips, and rouged cheeks under a HUGE mass of  large pink curlers, held in place with a chiffon scarf.

You hurry over beside me and put a comforting arm around my shoulders and apologise nicely for teasing me.  You than make amends by telling me that we can have a pizza delivered.  You wont let me put on any other clothes nor take off the silly earrings, claiming that I look ‘cute’.

We have the pizza and a glass or two of wine, which makes me sleepy again.  You won’t let me sit too closely to you, maintaining that my perfumed hair is too much for you to handle.  You do watch Jessica closely when she returns to apply more setting lotion - lots more - then re-tighten my rollers until I am pleading for mercy.  Jessica doesn’t listen though, just tightens and pins, tightens and pins, to her own satisfaction.

Again, I seem to become lost in a haze of perfume, setting lotion smell, lacquer?  I don’t know.  I fall asleep sitting there.  Have a vague memory of someone guiding me over to the bed in the spare room.  Have a terrible night, dreaming of a frightened girl in a huge nest of hair - who may be me.  Smell of perfume permeating everything.

I’m still dazed in the morning.  Don’t want breakfast.  Don’t want lunch either, but Jessica makes me eat some cottage cheese and a few crackers about eleven o’clock.  I have new undies that I’ve never seen before. Bra, panties, garter belt, and a half slip  all in a gorgeous Royal blue satin, with jet black lace trim.  I also have a new corset, jet black.  Black net stockings and a pair of Royal blue high heeled shoes with a four inch heel.  I make sure that my hair is completely enclosed in a shower cap before having a shower.  Jessica is not happy with the idea of me risking my hair getting wet, but gives in when I stamp my foot.

I’m surprised at the dress Jessica wants me to wear to the contest.  It’s one of my plainer ones.  Buttons down the front, quite nice - but not anything like as flashy as I’d have thought she’d want me to wear.  I’m certainly not comfortable with the idea of parading anywhere with my hair still up, but she tells me the contest site isn’t far away, and there won’t be too many people there at this time of day.

You’re busy interacting with the caterers on the phone when Jessica leads me out of the house.  You blow me a kiss and wish Jessica all the luck in the world.  Jessica is wound up so tightly that she can barely speak to say thank you.  Hardly says a word to me in the ten minutes it takes to get to her school in her car.  I’m starting to get a little nervous myself but keep saying that ‘this is the end of it’.   ‘Tonight I get married!’ over and over again.

I am shocked out of whatever calm I have when we enter the school.  Jesicca leads me down a hallway then, as we turn a corner, we hear a discordant babble of a lot of women laughing and screaming .  I am led into a large room where the noise is coming from.  I can’t believe it!  There must be twenty or thirty women there, eight or nine of them  in various stages of undress, though none are nude, thank goodness.  I notice that all the partially dressed girls have their hair up in different sizes of rollers and clips.   Must be the models, I think to myself.  There is a great deal of  friendly taunting and teasing going on.  Our entry hardly causes a  ripple, though I see some women give me a decided look over as they say ‘hi’ to Jessica.

One long wall is mirrored all the way along , with about twelve chairs equally spaced and facing the mirrors.  Each chair has a number on the back.  About waist height, there is a bench attached to the wall, with an amazing amnount of cosmetics and cans of hair care items in front of each chair.
“Here’s your chair.  Number eight”  Jessica told me.
“I’ve got to sit here?”  I stammered.  “In this room?”
“No dearie.  you get to sit on the throne in the ladies room!  Where’d you thiunk you’re gonna sit!  For god’s sake Sissy, brighten up!  Get your dress off and put this cape on.”
She was holding a little pink cape-like thing out towards me.  It wasn’t very big, I guessed - would cover my shoulders okay but I wasn’t sure if it would cover my breasts.

I could see other models sitting on their chairs now, their ‘handlers’ hovering over and around them like wasps, constantly darting in and touching things, then standing back.  Most of the seated models were wearing similar ‘capes’ already.  I unbuttoned the dress and slid it off, then gave it to Jessica.  Nervously, she bunched it up and threw it under the bench in front of us.   I had wrapped my cape around my shoulders and was tying the ribbon at the neckline while sitting down.
“But Jessica!  That will get all wrinkled!  Amn’t I going to wear it?”

She looked at me as if I were crazy.  “You NUTS?” was all she said.
Then an authoritative voice came from the doorway.  “Girls?  You have one minute.  The judges will be making their preliminary checks.  If they ask you any questions, please be prepared to answer honestly!”

Amidst a lot of giggling the remaining models jump hastily into their assigned chairs, and wrap their capes around their shoulders.  I am terrified.  what will I do if the judges ask me a question.  Will my voice sound like a girls?  I whisper my concern to Jessica.
She laughs, a little nervously, then whispers.  “They probably won’t ask you anything. Besides that?  They know you’re a guy.”

I’m crushed - out of my mind with humiliation.  I’m sitting in a chair, in a bloody ROOMFUL of women.  I’m in sexy women’s lingerie.  I’m perfumed, I’m wearing lipstick and all that goes with it.  My hair is up in some exotic set of rollers, so that I can model a woman’s hair style - and I can’t even pretend to be a girl?

But I’m distracted.  Three smart young ladies come down the line rapidly.  All have clipboards.  Ask questions and record their thoughts - or whatever - on their notepads. They come to us and pause.
“Wow  Jessica!  this the 60’s look you’re pushing?”
Jessica laughs behind me.  “Yeah.  thought it might give you judges something different to look at.
A burnished blonde laughs. “You actually got a model to take a cool set?  What did you need?  Blackmail?  I tried it once and none of the models would even talk to me.”
Jessica laughed easily.  “Just charm Judy.  Just charm!”

The judges laughed with her, then passed on. 

They were only a few more minutes, then the woman with the loud voice spoke again.
“Okay ladies!   You have one hour from now exactly.  At that point, you will be given five minutes - ONLY - to get your girls dressed.  They will then parade in front of the judges in the main room.  Models?  Once you’ve passed the judges, you will see chairs set on the floor with your numbers on them.  Go and sit on the chair with your number on it!  Don’t sit anywhere else!  I don’t want a repeat of last years nonsense! “
Everybody laughs.
“What happened last year...”?” I start to ask Jessica, but she is too busy attacking my hair!

In no time at all, she has the rollers all removed.  My hair seems to fall over in weird looking circles, but Jessica doesn’t seem too concerned.  She has started backcombing the hair at the back of my head, but a lot more thoroughly than ever before - and the amount of scented lacquer she is using!  My god, the whole place reeks!  I can’t think!

She is seemingly doing a little strand at a time, then spraying liberally with lacquer, then smoothing it with her hand, then another strand, then more lacquer, then smoothing it again.  At first I can’t see much of anything, but she turns my chair around to look at something from a different angle and I see that the hair at the back of my neck is starting to look very full - and I know that there is a lot to do yet.  Suddenly a small red-haired woman is standing in front of me.
“Hi Jessica!  You said you wanted false nails and eyelashes?  Is now a good time?”
“Perfect Shirley!  Just do the eyelashes first, okay?  Sissy?  Do as Shirley asks, okay?”

Shirley doesn’t tell me to do much of anything, other than “Hold still dearie”  a few times, but less that ten minutes later, my eyes are heavy with (heavy) false eyelashes (Real MINK, Shirley assures me) and long false talons of blood red fingernails.

A little while later, another girl appears.  “Look like you need a break Jessica.  Hey ,    don’t worry!  We’ve plenty of time.  I’ll get her makeup on - then all you have to do is comb her hair out and get her dressed for the parade to the judges.  Go grab a coke.  I’l have her looking great.  Don’t worry!”

Jessica is looking exhausted.  She smiles in agreement, strokes my hair softly, then leaves.  The new girl turns my chair away from facing the mirror, then straddles my chair.
“Show time honey!  Let’s get you gorgeous!”

Actually?  I enjoy what she does, whatever it is.  No strong scented odors.  No feeling that anything is getting layered on.  I lie back in the chair, close my eyes and let her do what she wishes, enjoying her feather soft touches on my face, on my lips, eyebrows, cheeks, eyelids.  Am almost asleep when I hear Jessica say “Wow Laverne!  She looks great!”

I’m frightened to look at my reflection, knowing full well that I must have crossed a line between masculinity and femininity - I just don’t want to see what how far I’ve crossed it, or what I’ve become.  I’m to be married in just a few hours!  I’ve got to start looking and behaving like a husband!  Know full well that what I see reflected may eliminate my confidence, what of it I have left, anyway.

Jessica is working furiously now, but just lightly teasing my hair into shape with a rattail comb, and smoothing it with her fingers, over and over again.  Then she brings the skirt and sweater I have to wear “Very sixties’ she tells me.

I step into the skirt and she zips it up behind me.  Oh god, it’s TIGHT!  She just barely manages to close  it around my waist.  Then the rapberry colored angora sweater that opens all the way down the back, fastened with large faux-pearl buttons.  The cuffs of the sleeves are tight around my forearms, but the dolman sleeves provide lots of room otherwise. Someone helps me on with my shoes, but my legs are shaking so, that I can hardly move.

I barely hear Jessica entreat me to practice my walk in the few minutes grace we have, but manage to travel enough in my shoes to gain a little confidence.  A few moments later, I am lined up with the other models behind a curtain.  A voice says something, but is distorted beyond all recognition, then some music player starts playing Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely” - and I mince through the curtain with the other girls, to the applause of a fairly large crowd.

The judges I had seen before were sitting now, side by side.  Me and the other girls are introduced , then have to walk, one at a time, along in front of them,  then turn and reverse our steps then find our way back to our chairs, where we had to seat ourselves in a ladylike manner. The hairdressers are also introduced, but without the show business aspect. They simply walk and stand behind the chairs.

It isn’t far to walk at all, but means are found to humiliate me.
“Here’s SISSY! - the SIXTIES Missy!”  Booms out from the speaker, and I find myself taking my tiny little steps towards the judges table, the skirt effectively hobbling my walking.  To maintain my balance, I discover that I must raise my arms out in front of me - like a ghost.  I hear the applause.  Find out later that the dolman sleeves spread most becomingly and the audience assume that I am walking this way intentionally!

I hear the voice introduce Jessica, then horror of horrors, hear it add.  “One thing folks?  This hairdo calls for a cool set, a thing that’s VERY unpopular with the models as it takes so long!  Guess what!  This is Jessica’s boss and HE was a willing volunteer!  Why don’t we all give him a great big round of applause?”

There is a moment of stunned silence then a lot of people clap.  At the same time, there’s a lot of wolf whistles and ribald comments.  Legs shaking in total humiliation I find my way to my chair, and sink into it gratefully, my face aflame under my makeup.

It really didn’t seem to take long at all.  The judges came down the line and examined our hairstyles closely.  The blonde actually took a comb end and lifted my hairdo a little.
“That’s a real nice coif you put in  there Jessica!”  she said .. “Good job!”

Jessica (and me) took third place.  She won a job with a local, well known hairdressing salon.  I won a handbag with a lot of cosmetic samples.  I then had to sit while a lot of women came around and examined the winner and the second and third place finishers.  It was finally over.  I was shocked to see the time.  Six thirty pm.
“We’ll have to hurry Jessica.”  I said happily.  “I’m due to get married in just about ninety minutes.”

She looked tired, but she smiled.  “Plenty of time Sissy.  I’ll have you back at your place in no time at all.”
“Why don’t I change out of this tight skirt?”  I suggested.
She shrugged.  “Up to you I guess, but I’m sorry, the dress you wore here is all crumpled and you’re just going to change again anyway.  Seems like a waste of time to me.”

I grimaced, but what you said made sense so, with Jessica holding me by one arm I minced my way out of the hall through the small crowd of women still hanging around.  One or two congratulated Jessica - she seemed to be well liked - and wanted to chat, but we finally made it to her car.  I had a terrible time getting into the front seat as my skirt was so tight.  Finally had to hike it up my legs - which drew a whistle from a passing girl - to enable me to get in.

The house was a bustle of activity when we arrived.  None of the guests were there yet but there were quite a lot of caterer people bustling about.  I heard your voice, but Jessica went ahead and told you to get out of the way so that we wouldn’t see each other.  “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the weding.”  she explained.
“Yes.  I’d forgotten that.”  I said.
Then she led me upstairs.  “We’ve got the master bedroom.  Brenda and Ruth have the spare room.”
“WE have?  What do you mean, WE?”  I asked, looking about me. The room seemed feminine somehow.  Then I noticed the flowers in vases placed in various spots.  Then I noticed what appeared to be formal dresses hanging.  Then the lingerie laid out on the bed.

I shook my head.  Something wasn’t making sense.  “And?  What does Ruth have to do with it?”
“She’s standing up for Brenda.  Didn’t you know?”
“Oh?  No, I didn’t.  What is she?  Bridesmaid?  Matron of honor?”  I asked.
Jessica laughed.  “No Sissy, I’m the bridesmaid.  She’s the best man.”
“But that’s ridiculous!”  I laughed.  “Can’t be... that would mean...”  I faltered to a stop.
Jessica nodded and smiled. “That you’re the bride, and I’m your bridesmaid.  Yes!”

With that, she went and removed a plastic cover from the white dress.  “This is drop-dead gorgeous!” she said.  “It was Brenda’s mother’s .  Gosh!  it’s immaculate!”
“But how can I possibly fit into her mother’s dress for goodness sake!”  I panted.
She shrugged.  “Remember that night I measured you for the corset?  Measured you for any possible alterations for this at the same time.”
“I’m not going to play the part of the bride at my own wedding!  I’m not!  This is crazy!”  I was whispering  desperately.

Jessica looked at me calmly.  “You’re just nervous dear.  Just like any other bride.  Don’t worry, you’ll be beautiful, just wait and see.”
“Good grief Jessica!  I can’t!  I wont!”
“Maybe we’d better go and find Brenda?  Want to do that?”  she asked.

She helped me get out of my skirt and sweater - and even let me take my corset off.  “Don’t think you’ll need it.  May as well be comfortable, eh?”
I thanked her and took the lingerie - the white from top of the bed and went into the bathroom to change.  It was lovely.  Soft, buttery satin.  I put on the matching panties, bra, garter belt and white hose, then the full length slip. Then I went through to the bedroom to help Jessica.  She had undressed and wanted a shower, so nipped into the bathroom once I’d left there, taking her lingerie with her.  I was surprised at how quickly she returned.  She looked great in her undies, but we agreed that we’d better get her dressed first.

Her dress was very pretty.  Blue taffeta with a calf length hem, scoped neckline, and puffy short sleeves.  A pink sash, and a large floppy hat with a matching pink ribbon.

Luckily, my dress opened up very easily, son that I could step into it  without having to worry about my makeup being smudged.  As Jessica had noted, it was a gorgeous confection of silk, satin, and organza.  It felt wonderful as she fastened me in at the back.
The train was quite short, but it took me a little while to learn how to hold and/or control it.  I started to tremble as she fitted the circlet that held the veil to my hair.  Then I put on my hose and beaded white slippers.  We were ready.

You had thoughtfully provided a small bottle of wine with two glasses.  Jessica poured a glass for both of us, and we settled down to wait.

It couldn’t have been long - it just felt that way - before a knock came to the door.  It was the pastor, so we invited her in.  The moment she saw us, she blanched.
“Oh Dear!”  she said.
“What’s the matter ma’am?”  Jessica asked.
“I didn’t know!  I mean, nobody toold me...?’
“What ma’am?”  Jessica asked again.
“I can’t perform same sex weddings.  My church wont allow it!”  She was obviously getting rattled.

“This isn’t a same-sex wedding Ma’am.  Sissy here is a man.  Brenda is a woman.  It’s perfectly all right.”  Jessica said, smiling,
“A man?”  The pastor looked at me closely.  “You’re very pretty for a man.  And that’s a lovely dress.  Are you sure?  Did you know that you’re taking the vows as the wife?  Promising to love, honor, and obey?”
I sighed.  “It figures” I said.
“Well.  That’s all right then, I guess.  Your husband is waiting for you downstairs.  Give me a minute then come and join us please.  Okay?”

I nodded and she left the room.  Jessica came and arranged the veil in front of my face.
“You’ll need your hands to hold your dress as we go downstairs,”  she said  “So I’ll carry your train for you as we go, but once we’re there, I’ll let it trail behind you.  Okay?”
Nervously, I nodded my head.
“You’re a lovely bride” she said ,and gave me a slight kiss on the cheek.

There were more people there than I expected.  All women.  The girls from my office and some of your female friends from yours.  Every one smiled up at me as I descended the stairs, the wedding march playing all the while.  You were standing in the centre of the living room, facing away, Ruth at your side turning and smiling at me.  There was something predatory in her eyes a ‘I  Just can’t wait to get my hands on you” sort of look.
‘Okay’ I thought to myself.  ‘I may not be the husband - but I’m  marrying your boss and I’ve got a promotion coming, so we’ll see.’  Nevertheless, I started shivering.

The ceremony was mercifully brief.  I repeated what was said, promising to love, honor, and obey, while you promised to love and cherish me.  I had forgotten about rings, but you hadn’t.  It was a single ring ceremony, and I was the one who ended up wearing it.  Then you lifted my veil, and tenderly put it back over my head.  Then you kissed me.
“Hello wife.”  you whispered.
“Hello husband.” I whispered back.

The small group of women all clapped, and the formalities were ended.  In my dress I was introduced to your friends, who were very complimentary about my looks and the dress.  I even got some comments about my unusual hairdo.
We stood around eating canapes and drinking wine for about an hour.  You then made an announcement that we were leaving very soon on the start of our trip, but that everyone could stay  after our departure, because Jessica had agreed to take care of the place in our absence.

Then you put a proprietary arm around my waist.  “And someone close to me has got to go and put her ‘going away’ outfit on - and we all know how women are, right girls?”
This raised a lot of smiles.

You had teased me many times about my masculinity, or lack of, but this was the very first time you had ever referred to me as a woman or used the word ‘her’ to describe me.  I felt curiously flattered though as you continued by whispering in my ear.  “ Wait until you see your trousseau!  All the girls wherever we go are going to be SO jealous.  Ruth and I want to come and help you change.  Will that be all right darling?”
“I’d feel awfully shy with her there dear?  I’d rather just have you...”  I said, in a pleading tone.
“Oh don’t be a silly girl!”  you said, giving me a slight pat on the rump.  “I want you two to get along.  It’ll be a long trip and I want you to be friends with her.”

Flanked by Ruth on one side and you on the other, we went to the spare room.  As soon as we closed the door behind us, Ruth smiled.  “May I kiss the bride?”
You smiled back at her, then looked at me. .  “I’m sure Priscilla wouldn’t mind?  Would you Priscilla?”

And Ruth was advancing on me!  Weakly, I put my arms up to defend myself, but she just brushed them aside, then took me in her arms and kissed me.  Kissed me hard!  Then I felt her tongue in my mouth!  I struggled weakly, trying to cry out for help, but could see you sitting looking on with an interested expression..

Then, I was being forced back onto the bed., and Ruth’s hands were everywhere: caressing my breasts, up my skirts, taking my stockings off.  Then I realized that she was systematically undressing me!  And in front of my husband!

I finally lay there, helpless with only my bra, panties, and garter belt on staring up at this new force in my life.

I certainly was not expecting the next development.  All of a sudden, through my mental haze, I discovered that I was being dressed again!  Stockings, then a camisole, then a full petticoat.  In a stupor, I stood and had a dress pulled over my head, and fastened at the back.  Then something was attached to my hair, and something else tied around my waist.
“Get your shoes on Priscilla, there’s a girl”  you said  “Now isn’t that a lovely going away dress you’re wearing?   And?  Guess what?  You’ve got others just like it.  In different colors of course.  Now listen up dear.  Go out and help the caterers clean up.  Then in about a half hour?  Bring us both a drink.  Understand?”

I took my maid’s apron in my hands and curtsied, my lace cap bobbing. “Yes mistress” I said, now well aware of who would be staying in the adjoining suites on our travels.


                                                         The end








8 comments:

rocketdave said...

Merry Christmas, Bea.

Anonymous said...

Hey Bea It's been a long time! Thanks for your stories all these years.
Merry Christmas and stay....good!
An old friend from Greece (You remember?)

belinda said...

Merry Christmas Bea!

Lupemaid said...

Thanks for this amazing storie and happy new year

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