Little Tim snuggled down under the bed clothes trying to drown out the sound of laughter drifting up from below. He didn‘t object to the rest of the family having fun of course, but how much he‘d have loved to have stayed up late - especially tonight of all nights. Even his best efforts with the eiderdown were unable to stifle the the penetrating voices and giggles of his two elder sisters.
Still, tomorrow was Christmas day, always a terrific time. There‘d be lots of fun and excitement, and of course loads of presents for him to open. In fact he‘d already examined the brightly colored parcels under the tree in the lounge, but despite feeling them, shaking them and performing all the external analysis possible, he was still none-the-wiser to their secret contents.
He listened intently and then, when he was sure he couldn‘t be overheard, whispered the same prayer that he offered up every night. Being only nine, he wasn‘t entirely sure how such things operated, but felt confident that the Almightily would one day hear his plea, it was simply a matter of being persistent.
... Tim found himself standing before a big oak door and pondered for a while, hearing giggles and shouts from within. Tentatively he lifted the large brass door knocker, made in the shape of a lion, lifted, then released it, letting it drop against the solid housing with a firm resounding clang. He paused, and was about to repeat the action when the door groaned open and a little girl stood there beaming. „Oh hiya Tina“ said the child, brightly, „Do come in, the party‘s really great“...
... He wasn‘t sure how he‘d gotten here, but he was standing in a large room which was decorated with balloons and streamers. Everywhere he looked there were children playing. Some were playing with the balloons, others dancing to music, and more still just running around giggling with joy. He knew he‘d been here before, but couldn‘t quite place it. Then it dawned on him... there were no boys at this party. It was just for girls.
For an anxious moment he glanced down, then realized that all was well - his frilly pink dress was just as pretty as the other girls‘...
He felt himself being jostled from behind and heard a vague and distant voice pleading in his ear, „Come on Tim, wake up! It‘s Christmas day!“
„Oh great“, he moaned sleepily, with not quite enough enthusiasm. He‘d have loved to stay just a little longer in his favorite dream.
I finished some more Books with new, most favorite Feminizations-Stories - you can order now - Vol.3
The Black Officebook - Seven Feminizations-Stories (englisch)
Forced Feminization-Stories by Mistress, dominate Female, hard
Forced Feminization-Stories by Mistress, dominate Female, hard
I finished some more Books with new, most favorite Feminizations-Stories - you can order now Vol.4
The German Officebook - 3 Feminizations-Stories in German language
Drei weiter Feminizations-Geschichten, in deutscher Sprache. Die Geschichten haben gemischte Inhalte - von lieblich bis härter
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY - GLORIA, THE AMAZING STORY OF A BOY TURNED INTO A GIRL
1. The Trap
Margaret was really pleased with herself on this fine spring day, Maundy Thursday of 1890, at the beginning of that carefree, peaceful period that would later be known as "The Gay Nineties". She was in high spirits and felt in top form. She viewed herself in the full length mirror. Even her worst enemy would have to concede that she was beautiful, not only because with her 22 years she had an excellent figure accentuated by a very tight corset, she also had taken great pains to dress herself in the most fashionable and elegant way. From the feather crowned hat with its delicate lace edged veil giving her face a mysterious touch to the small feet shod in a pair of dainty high heeled boots laced to just below the calves with just over four inch heels she looked as if she just had stepped from a Paris fashion plate.
Usually she wore heels of not more than three inches, because it was less tiring and under the long skirts the height of the heels was rarely seen, if at all, so there really was little sense in punishing herself, but today she had a special reason to go to the extreme. She wanted to assert a physical superiority from the first moment of her encounter and part of it was to appear taller. And then she expected to arrange it that he would see her legs later on and of course really high heeled boots would certainly make him pay a lot of attention to her looks and distract him from what was going on around him. And that was part of her scheme.
She turned away from the mirror, giving herself a last approving look over her shoulder and called for her maid to tell the groom to get the carriage. On the way to the train station she went back over the last six years, and her marriage at 16 to a man who was almost four times her age at the bidding of her parents. It was true, her husband would have been a most desirable suitor for many girls, as he not only belonged to old nobility he was a Baron actually but through shrewd industrial investments and dealings with real estate in and around Berlin after the war with France 1870/71, he had amassed a huge fortune that seemed to grow endlessly.
But a girl at 16 had dreams other than sharing her time and bed with a man whose mind seemed to function mostly like an adding machine. It was true, she had every luxury imaginable, but she could not love him. She had come to accept the inevitable, however, and had made the best of it. At first her husband had thought he could rejuvenate himself through living with her and through her love, but his advances in bed were really not encouraged by her and soon he gave up his attempts. She had felt this unwanted relationship to be degrading and humiliating and longed for the moment, when she would be in a position to rule. She was by far not the submissive, shy little girl that her husband had hoped to find.
However she finally had made the marriage a success, although not quite in the way her husband had hoped for. She succeeded in making her husband accept her as a kind of business partner. She had used the six years of her marriage to learn as much as possible, taking the marriage to the unbeloved man as a kind of school and instead of being a lover, he became her teacher, which he had to concede at one time pleased him almost as much. When he had died of heart failure the previous January, he had left her not only an immense fortune but had given her the education to stand on her own feet and be completely independent, a truly emancipated woman.
She had no intention to marry again, at least none of the men that crowded her doorsteps almost immediately after the funeral. She knew that she had more money and certainly more brains than the whole bunch of them together. And all in all, they were the same inconsiderate brutes with the same chauvinistic attitudes toward women. What she longed for, because she had to forego this through all of her marriage, was tenderness, a man with an almost feminine approach to love.
She had once read a novel by a french author of the 18th century, Louvet de Couvray, "The Adventures of the Chevalier de Faublas" and found the hero much to her liking. He had been introduced to the ways of love by an experienced woman while he was disguised as a girl. A man like this she wanted to possess, young he had to be, one she still could mold to her liking.
During the first days after her husband's sudden demise she had had no opportunity to follow these dreams, but they were suddenly revived when a letter, still addressed to her husband, arrived, a letter sent to him by his nephew Jean-Marie from somewhere in the provinces, telling him that he would graduate from his school at Easter-time and that he would like to go to the university in Berlin. Jean-Marie was the son of her late husband's brother and his French wife, which accounted for his name, rather unusual in Germany, but quite common in France. He had been born 17 years ago in a godforsaken little town in one of the United States western Territories, where his father was an engineer for a railroad company. The family had not approved of the marriage to the French girl and had sent him abroad.
She knew of course, that this nephew existed. He had been at a boarding school that was paid for by his uncle, as he had been an orphan for two years and there was no money left by his parents to sustain him. Immediately, she saw the danger that could come from this nephew. He would have inherited his uncle's entire fortune, had his uncle died as a bachelor, and half of it if he had not made a will in favor of his wife. And under the will he would inherit a substantial portion of his uncle's estate after her death. The will contained a legacy which required that she pay for his education, and give him an additional yearly income. She could be in real trouble, if the boy would successfully contest the will. Even without this, he could prove a real nuisance and hamper her in the administration of the estate. Fortunately, her husband had also arranged for her to become his guardian, which she now was for about four years, until he turned 21.
When she had looked at the photograph of the boy, an idea slowly began to take shape. Why not try to turn the boy into her "Chevalier de Faublas"? He was certainly the type for it. At 17, he evidently was the smallest in his class, as the photograph showed, and he had delicate features. The school had its uniform modeled after the military uniforms of the times of Frederick the Great of Prussia and the boys were required to wear their hair long in a queue in the back. But even in this martial getup he looked dainty.
She had decided that she would try to make the boy totally dependent upon her, much more than her guardianship allowed anyway. Thus she would not only be able to eliminate the danger, but it could also provide her with the special kind of lover she longed for. The idea seemed perfect and with all of her energy she had formed a plan and immediately begun with its realization. Every step, every detail she had carefully planned and prepared.
Today was the big day. The trap was set with herself as the bait.
"Does Frau Baronin want me to go and meet her guest or shall I accompany Frau Baronin to the train?" the groom interrupted her stream of thoughts.
"Yes, please go and fetch him, I'll stay here." She wanted to impress the boy with her authority from the first moment. She would calmly and majestically sit and wait for him in the open carriage, so that he would have to look and climb up to her.
When the coachman returned with the boy, she purposely did not see them and turned to the boy from above only when he greeted her.
"Hello, I am Jean-Marie." He took a deep polite bow.
"Of course, and I am your Aunt Margaret. Hello and welcome to Berlin. Do you have any bags?"
"No I packed everything into a big trunk and shipped it separately, as you had suggested. I just have this little bag with some books and stuff."
"Very well then, give your ticket to the coachman and he shall collect your trunk later. Now tell me, did you have a good trip?"
"Excellent, and I am not at all tired, I want to see the big city right away, I am very excited to be here with you."
"Well, climb in and sit down."
He did, never leaving an eye off her. It was obvious that he was very impressed by her.
"Let's go then and take a ride through the streets. I am glad you are not tired, as I wanted to keep an appointment at my favored fashion salon and I hope you will accompany me."
She watched him intensely and noticed that her tactics obviously were successful. She had intended to appear to him as the most desirable woman he had ever seen, yet give him the impression that his adoration could only be hopeless, as he had nothing that could make him attractive to her, who obviously had everything she could desire.
He could hardly take his eyes off her and tried to hide his impolite stare. He had only known his uncle, and somehow expected his aunt to be of the same generation, although he knew that his uncle had married a younger wife. The fact that she evidently was not much older than he, took him by surprise. It opened an entirely new world for him and he immediately adored her.
This was exactly what she wanted. He should worship her without hope. After they started, he was silent for a moment, even appeared a little gloomy as he believed to understand the situation correctly, but she brought him out of his thoughts by starting to chat lightly and point out the points of interest to him as they were passing them. He thoroughly enjoyed the ride through the city, which seemed to overflow with people and traffic coming, going, rushing everywhere. He never had imagined Berlin to be so big and so busy.
When they crossed "Unter den Linden", a street almost 300 feet wide with a wide walk-way down the middle under the linden trees, he marveled at the elegant women and men and the colorful uniforms of the officers leisurely strolling down the avenue. To him this was life at its best and he hoped he would be part of it soon.
2. Ensnared
Suddenly the carriage stopped and Aunt Margaret asked him to help her down, which he hastened to do, swearing at himself that he was so clumsy not to have thought of it himself. They entered a small store, at least it appeared that way from the outside. Inside it opened to a large salon, equipped with beautiful antique furniture and a wealth of oriental carpets, lighted by shaded gas jets everywhere. One wall was almost entirely covered with the finest crystal mirrors, and more mirrors in golden stucco frames mounted on little wheels were around everywhere. Two or three groups of deeply upholstered armchairs were arranged around marble-topped tables covered with fashion plates and magazines.
Aunt Margaret was greeted effusively by Madame Heloise, the store owner. She introduced him as her nephew who had just arrived from the province.
"You will best sit down someplace and read something, this may take a while. Do you want something to drink? I am sure Madame Heloise can arrange something for you."
"Of course," Madame Heloise volunteered, "what do you want, coffee or tea or some juice?"
"If you don't mind, I would prefer a cup of tea."
"Of course not, Suzanne, get the young gentleman some tea please," she called to her help.
The two women were soon deeply involved in a discussion of the design and material of new dresses that Margaret wanted to have made while he had settled down in one of the large easy chairs and thumbed through a fashion magazine from Paris. He was fascinated by the women in the elegant new fashions.
The next thing he noticed was a cataract of hot tea gushing down over him. He yelped and jumped up. Suzanne in bringing him the tea had evidently caught one foot in the fold of a carpet and stumbled, falling all over him with the full cup and kettle.
Madame Heloise came rushing to the scene, chiding Suzanne for her clumsiness. However, his best suit was soaked like a sponge with tea, and he felt the fluid soak through to his skin.
"Quick, undress yourself and give the clothes to Suzanne. If they are not cleaned at once, the tea stains will remain forever I am awfully sorry, such a clumsy girl," and turning to her "quick, help the gentleman and clean his things, couldn't you watch out where you walked, imbecile," and to him again "go behind this screen to undress, I'll try and find something for you to cover yourself. Give everything that is stained to Suzanne, she will clean it."
She turned to Margaret: "I am so sorry to cause such an inconvenience to your escort, Frau Baronin, but I'll do my best to have the things all cleaned and pressed in no time at all."
Margaret after Jean-Marie had disappeared behind the screen could hardly contain herself. She almost burst from laughing. It all had gone so smoothly, and without any rehearsal, too. Madame Heloise, when she had told her of her plans, had just said "Leave everything to me, I guarantee you that I shall have him completely undressed and without his clothes within five minutes after you come in and then we shall be able to do with him whatever we choose."
Suzanne, Margaret thought, was priceless: no actress could have played her role more precisely and to the point.
"Here, take this dressing gown for the moment. I am awfully sorry, but I don't have any male clothes here. You see, I am dealing in ladies fashions exclusively. And when you are dressed, please make yourself comfortable over there. Suzanne will clean the mess at your table as soon as she finishes with your suit and shirt."
Margaret was really pleased with herself on this fine spring day, Maundy Thursday of 1890, at the beginning of that carefree, peaceful period that would later be known as "The Gay Nineties". She was in high spirits and felt in top form. She viewed herself in the full length mirror. Even her worst enemy would have to concede that she was beautiful, not only because with her 22 years she had an excellent figure accentuated by a very tight corset, she also had taken great pains to dress herself in the most fashionable and elegant way. From the feather crowned hat with its delicate lace edged veil giving her face a mysterious touch to the small feet shod in a pair of dainty high heeled boots laced to just below the calves with just over four inch heels she looked as if she just had stepped from a Paris fashion plate.
Usually she wore heels of not more than three inches, because it was less tiring and under the long skirts the height of the heels was rarely seen, if at all, so there really was little sense in punishing herself, but today she had a special reason to go to the extreme. She wanted to assert a physical superiority from the first moment of her encounter and part of it was to appear taller. And then she expected to arrange it that he would see her legs later on and of course really high heeled boots would certainly make him pay a lot of attention to her looks and distract him from what was going on around him. And that was part of her scheme.
She turned away from the mirror, giving herself a last approving look over her shoulder and called for her maid to tell the groom to get the carriage. On the way to the train station she went back over the last six years, and her marriage at 16 to a man who was almost four times her age at the bidding of her parents. It was true, her husband would have been a most desirable suitor for many girls, as he not only belonged to old nobility he was a Baron actually but through shrewd industrial investments and dealings with real estate in and around Berlin after the war with France 1870/71, he had amassed a huge fortune that seemed to grow endlessly.
But a girl at 16 had dreams other than sharing her time and bed with a man whose mind seemed to function mostly like an adding machine. It was true, she had every luxury imaginable, but she could not love him. She had come to accept the inevitable, however, and had made the best of it. At first her husband had thought he could rejuvenate himself through living with her and through her love, but his advances in bed were really not encouraged by her and soon he gave up his attempts. She had felt this unwanted relationship to be degrading and humiliating and longed for the moment, when she would be in a position to rule. She was by far not the submissive, shy little girl that her husband had hoped to find.
However she finally had made the marriage a success, although not quite in the way her husband had hoped for. She succeeded in making her husband accept her as a kind of business partner. She had used the six years of her marriage to learn as much as possible, taking the marriage to the unbeloved man as a kind of school and instead of being a lover, he became her teacher, which he had to concede at one time pleased him almost as much. When he had died of heart failure the previous January, he had left her not only an immense fortune but had given her the education to stand on her own feet and be completely independent, a truly emancipated woman.
She had no intention to marry again, at least none of the men that crowded her doorsteps almost immediately after the funeral. She knew that she had more money and certainly more brains than the whole bunch of them together. And all in all, they were the same inconsiderate brutes with the same chauvinistic attitudes toward women. What she longed for, because she had to forego this through all of her marriage, was tenderness, a man with an almost feminine approach to love.
She had once read a novel by a french author of the 18th century, Louvet de Couvray, "The Adventures of the Chevalier de Faublas" and found the hero much to her liking. He had been introduced to the ways of love by an experienced woman while he was disguised as a girl. A man like this she wanted to possess, young he had to be, one she still could mold to her liking.
During the first days after her husband's sudden demise she had had no opportunity to follow these dreams, but they were suddenly revived when a letter, still addressed to her husband, arrived, a letter sent to him by his nephew Jean-Marie from somewhere in the provinces, telling him that he would graduate from his school at Easter-time and that he would like to go to the university in Berlin. Jean-Marie was the son of her late husband's brother and his French wife, which accounted for his name, rather unusual in Germany, but quite common in France. He had been born 17 years ago in a godforsaken little town in one of the United States western Territories, where his father was an engineer for a railroad company. The family had not approved of the marriage to the French girl and had sent him abroad.
She knew of course, that this nephew existed. He had been at a boarding school that was paid for by his uncle, as he had been an orphan for two years and there was no money left by his parents to sustain him. Immediately, she saw the danger that could come from this nephew. He would have inherited his uncle's entire fortune, had his uncle died as a bachelor, and half of it if he had not made a will in favor of his wife. And under the will he would inherit a substantial portion of his uncle's estate after her death. The will contained a legacy which required that she pay for his education, and give him an additional yearly income. She could be in real trouble, if the boy would successfully contest the will. Even without this, he could prove a real nuisance and hamper her in the administration of the estate. Fortunately, her husband had also arranged for her to become his guardian, which she now was for about four years, until he turned 21.
When she had looked at the photograph of the boy, an idea slowly began to take shape. Why not try to turn the boy into her "Chevalier de Faublas"? He was certainly the type for it. At 17, he evidently was the smallest in his class, as the photograph showed, and he had delicate features. The school had its uniform modeled after the military uniforms of the times of Frederick the Great of Prussia and the boys were required to wear their hair long in a queue in the back. But even in this martial getup he looked dainty.
She had decided that she would try to make the boy totally dependent upon her, much more than her guardianship allowed anyway. Thus she would not only be able to eliminate the danger, but it could also provide her with the special kind of lover she longed for. The idea seemed perfect and with all of her energy she had formed a plan and immediately begun with its realization. Every step, every detail she had carefully planned and prepared.
Today was the big day. The trap was set with herself as the bait.
"Does Frau Baronin want me to go and meet her guest or shall I accompany Frau Baronin to the train?" the groom interrupted her stream of thoughts.
"Yes, please go and fetch him, I'll stay here." She wanted to impress the boy with her authority from the first moment. She would calmly and majestically sit and wait for him in the open carriage, so that he would have to look and climb up to her.
When the coachman returned with the boy, she purposely did not see them and turned to the boy from above only when he greeted her.
"Hello, I am Jean-Marie." He took a deep polite bow.
"Of course, and I am your Aunt Margaret. Hello and welcome to Berlin. Do you have any bags?"
"No I packed everything into a big trunk and shipped it separately, as you had suggested. I just have this little bag with some books and stuff."
"Very well then, give your ticket to the coachman and he shall collect your trunk later. Now tell me, did you have a good trip?"
"Excellent, and I am not at all tired, I want to see the big city right away, I am very excited to be here with you."
"Well, climb in and sit down."
He did, never leaving an eye off her. It was obvious that he was very impressed by her.
"Let's go then and take a ride through the streets. I am glad you are not tired, as I wanted to keep an appointment at my favored fashion salon and I hope you will accompany me."
She watched him intensely and noticed that her tactics obviously were successful. She had intended to appear to him as the most desirable woman he had ever seen, yet give him the impression that his adoration could only be hopeless, as he had nothing that could make him attractive to her, who obviously had everything she could desire.
He could hardly take his eyes off her and tried to hide his impolite stare. He had only known his uncle, and somehow expected his aunt to be of the same generation, although he knew that his uncle had married a younger wife. The fact that she evidently was not much older than he, took him by surprise. It opened an entirely new world for him and he immediately adored her.
This was exactly what she wanted. He should worship her without hope. After they started, he was silent for a moment, even appeared a little gloomy as he believed to understand the situation correctly, but she brought him out of his thoughts by starting to chat lightly and point out the points of interest to him as they were passing them. He thoroughly enjoyed the ride through the city, which seemed to overflow with people and traffic coming, going, rushing everywhere. He never had imagined Berlin to be so big and so busy.
When they crossed "Unter den Linden", a street almost 300 feet wide with a wide walk-way down the middle under the linden trees, he marveled at the elegant women and men and the colorful uniforms of the officers leisurely strolling down the avenue. To him this was life at its best and he hoped he would be part of it soon.
2. Ensnared
Suddenly the carriage stopped and Aunt Margaret asked him to help her down, which he hastened to do, swearing at himself that he was so clumsy not to have thought of it himself. They entered a small store, at least it appeared that way from the outside. Inside it opened to a large salon, equipped with beautiful antique furniture and a wealth of oriental carpets, lighted by shaded gas jets everywhere. One wall was almost entirely covered with the finest crystal mirrors, and more mirrors in golden stucco frames mounted on little wheels were around everywhere. Two or three groups of deeply upholstered armchairs were arranged around marble-topped tables covered with fashion plates and magazines.
Aunt Margaret was greeted effusively by Madame Heloise, the store owner. She introduced him as her nephew who had just arrived from the province.
"You will best sit down someplace and read something, this may take a while. Do you want something to drink? I am sure Madame Heloise can arrange something for you."
"Of course," Madame Heloise volunteered, "what do you want, coffee or tea or some juice?"
"If you don't mind, I would prefer a cup of tea."
"Of course not, Suzanne, get the young gentleman some tea please," she called to her help.
The two women were soon deeply involved in a discussion of the design and material of new dresses that Margaret wanted to have made while he had settled down in one of the large easy chairs and thumbed through a fashion magazine from Paris. He was fascinated by the women in the elegant new fashions.
The next thing he noticed was a cataract of hot tea gushing down over him. He yelped and jumped up. Suzanne in bringing him the tea had evidently caught one foot in the fold of a carpet and stumbled, falling all over him with the full cup and kettle.
Madame Heloise came rushing to the scene, chiding Suzanne for her clumsiness. However, his best suit was soaked like a sponge with tea, and he felt the fluid soak through to his skin.
"Quick, undress yourself and give the clothes to Suzanne. If they are not cleaned at once, the tea stains will remain forever I am awfully sorry, such a clumsy girl," and turning to her "quick, help the gentleman and clean his things, couldn't you watch out where you walked, imbecile," and to him again "go behind this screen to undress, I'll try and find something for you to cover yourself. Give everything that is stained to Suzanne, she will clean it."
She turned to Margaret: "I am so sorry to cause such an inconvenience to your escort, Frau Baronin, but I'll do my best to have the things all cleaned and pressed in no time at all."
Margaret after Jean-Marie had disappeared behind the screen could hardly contain herself. She almost burst from laughing. It all had gone so smoothly, and without any rehearsal, too. Madame Heloise, when she had told her of her plans, had just said "Leave everything to me, I guarantee you that I shall have him completely undressed and without his clothes within five minutes after you come in and then we shall be able to do with him whatever we choose."
Suzanne, Margaret thought, was priceless: no actress could have played her role more precisely and to the point.
"Here, take this dressing gown for the moment. I am awfully sorry, but I don't have any male clothes here. You see, I am dealing in ladies fashions exclusively. And when you are dressed, please make yourself comfortable over there. Suzanne will clean the mess at your table as soon as she finishes with your suit and shirt."
Inside a Transvestite's closet!
Very few of us really know what goes on in the closets and bedrooms of our TV and TS sisters. Its a rare of occasion when that door opens and we are allowed a look into the innermost Iives of the crossdresser. Fortunately, one special person has allowed the FEMALE IMPERSONATOR photographer to join her in a session of crossdressing.
Stefanie, our model, was a bit shy at first, but who of us would not be when put in front of a camera. As you can see from the pictures, here, she took to modeling like a duck takes to water. Before too long, Stefanie won the heart of our photographer, and its only a matter of time before she wins the hearts of all of us.
As a pre-operative transexual, Stef is very busy saving her money for that all-important surgery, but she did take the time out to grace our pages. There is no doubt in our minds that Stef will make a beautiful and charming woman. Even though she is not a 100% female, she already has much of the grace and charm of a real girl.
Currently, our girl of the issue is busy at a large Eastern college studying for a career. The campus must be a wild place with a beauty like Stephanie there. She is the object of many a coed's envy and many a boy's attraction as she strolls across the campus.
Having started a series of hormone treatments about six months ago, Stet's body is already beginning to assume many of the characteristic female contours that she is justifiably proud of. Many months of electrolysis have left her face smooth and hairless, giving Stef an overall appearance that any girl would be proud to have. Stefanie has no definite plans for surgery at this point. Her main goal in life right now is to finish college, a task that shouldn't be too difficult for this intelligent lass.
Now that we have gotten this creature to pose for us, we think that its only a matter of time until she is discovered by an agency to do some fashion modeling. She is already becoming relaxed while posing, and feels at home in front of a camera. Who knows, we may have opened up a whole new career to help this lovely girl through college!
Stef thinks that its about time the that more TVs and TSs got out of their closets to do their own thing. She feels that it will make a person a much happier human being. We can only agree with her and admire her for coming out for all of US to see.
Aside from her natural beauty, our model has already mastered some of the tricks of makeup and hair styling that girls use to enhance their appearance. She is an expert at make-up and knows how to bring out all her good feminine features, as is clearly visible here.
Stefanie, like most of us, has a special liking for the soft, ultra-feminine clothing that we associate with beautiful women; stockings, garterbelt, lacy bra. Our girl knows that these are real trun-ons, and she likes to turn people on. as you can see.
We were really sorry when we ran out of film, and had to call the session to a close. One hour with this vibrant young woman left us feeling exhilarated, and anxiouS to do it all over again. Oh well, all good things have to end sometime, but we sincerely hope to see Stefanie again sometime in the future ......
Stefanie, our model, was a bit shy at first, but who of us would not be when put in front of a camera. As you can see from the pictures, here, she took to modeling like a duck takes to water. Before too long, Stefanie won the heart of our photographer, and its only a matter of time before she wins the hearts of all of us.
As a pre-operative transexual, Stef is very busy saving her money for that all-important surgery, but she did take the time out to grace our pages. There is no doubt in our minds that Stef will make a beautiful and charming woman. Even though she is not a 100% female, she already has much of the grace and charm of a real girl.
Currently, our girl of the issue is busy at a large Eastern college studying for a career. The campus must be a wild place with a beauty like Stephanie there. She is the object of many a coed's envy and many a boy's attraction as she strolls across the campus.
Having started a series of hormone treatments about six months ago, Stet's body is already beginning to assume many of the characteristic female contours that she is justifiably proud of. Many months of electrolysis have left her face smooth and hairless, giving Stef an overall appearance that any girl would be proud to have. Stefanie has no definite plans for surgery at this point. Her main goal in life right now is to finish college, a task that shouldn't be too difficult for this intelligent lass.
Now that we have gotten this creature to pose for us, we think that its only a matter of time until she is discovered by an agency to do some fashion modeling. She is already becoming relaxed while posing, and feels at home in front of a camera. Who knows, we may have opened up a whole new career to help this lovely girl through college!
Stef thinks that its about time the that more TVs and TSs got out of their closets to do their own thing. She feels that it will make a person a much happier human being. We can only agree with her and admire her for coming out for all of US to see.
Aside from her natural beauty, our model has already mastered some of the tricks of makeup and hair styling that girls use to enhance their appearance. She is an expert at make-up and knows how to bring out all her good feminine features, as is clearly visible here.
Stefanie, like most of us, has a special liking for the soft, ultra-feminine clothing that we associate with beautiful women; stockings, garterbelt, lacy bra. Our girl knows that these are real trun-ons, and she likes to turn people on. as you can see.
We were really sorry when we ran out of film, and had to call the session to a close. One hour with this vibrant young woman left us feeling exhilarated, and anxiouS to do it all over again. Oh well, all good things have to end sometime, but we sincerely hope to see Stefanie again sometime in the future ......
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY - She knew just how humiliating these wonderful new toys would be for her sissy maids
Plug Tails - this very feminine thing attached to his butt was a source of great amusement to any spectator.
Chapter 1
Mistress Lara took special pleasure in making her sissy maids keep butt plugs installed for long periods of time. She was well aware of the discomfort these wonderful simple devices caused her pansy little sissy maids. She also knew the humiliation of having to wear such a thing up their little butts was a source she could use when humiliating one of these pathetic creatures in front of her guests.
One of her past inventions was the ball end plug. It had a small ball built on the end of the plug. This was a favorite thing she used when one of her maids got a little lazy or slow in the performance of his duties. If the pathetic thing needed rest, she certainly could oblige. Installing a six inch length model ball plug up his precious rear she would then make him sit on a wooden stool, then strap him down tight making the ball end of the plug put a hard pressure up his sissy butt. It wasn't long before the sissy would beg to be released from his ordeal and would promise faithfully to perform faster and more efficiently.
She took extra pleasure in making him beg to show her guests the reason for his willingness to work better. When he was released he would have to put his back to the quests, lift his skirt above his tight fitting panties revealing the bulge the ball made. Then the quests would laugh and ask what the funny little bulge was in the back of his panties. Then he would have to beg Mistress to let him lower his panties and show the quests the ball end of the plug.
Many times the quests would demand a closer look and he would have to stand in front of each quest with his back toward them, then with his panties lowered bend forward so each quest could inspect the ball plug. Many times they would push it forward just so they could cause him more discomfort. Needles to say the maids hated the regular butt plugs, but the ball plug was something they tried hard to avoid. The harder they tried avoidance the more Mistress Lara enjoyed using her favorite toy.
But now she had a new gimmick, plug tails, Mistress Lara was very proud of this new brain storm of hers, it would take some time to get the tails made and to alter some of her maids uniforms, but she knew just how humiliating these wonderful new toys would be for her sissy maids. She could hardly wait to get the first one, so she could see just how well it worked.
Chapter 1
Mistress Lara took special pleasure in making her sissy maids keep butt plugs installed for long periods of time. She was well aware of the discomfort these wonderful simple devices caused her pansy little sissy maids. She also knew the humiliation of having to wear such a thing up their little butts was a source she could use when humiliating one of these pathetic creatures in front of her guests.
One of her past inventions was the ball end plug. It had a small ball built on the end of the plug. This was a favorite thing she used when one of her maids got a little lazy or slow in the performance of his duties. If the pathetic thing needed rest, she certainly could oblige. Installing a six inch length model ball plug up his precious rear she would then make him sit on a wooden stool, then strap him down tight making the ball end of the plug put a hard pressure up his sissy butt. It wasn't long before the sissy would beg to be released from his ordeal and would promise faithfully to perform faster and more efficiently.
She took extra pleasure in making him beg to show her guests the reason for his willingness to work better. When he was released he would have to put his back to the quests, lift his skirt above his tight fitting panties revealing the bulge the ball made. Then the quests would laugh and ask what the funny little bulge was in the back of his panties. Then he would have to beg Mistress to let him lower his panties and show the quests the ball end of the plug.
Many times the quests would demand a closer look and he would have to stand in front of each quest with his back toward them, then with his panties lowered bend forward so each quest could inspect the ball plug. Many times they would push it forward just so they could cause him more discomfort. Needles to say the maids hated the regular butt plugs, but the ball plug was something they tried hard to avoid. The harder they tried avoidance the more Mistress Lara enjoyed using her favorite toy.
But now she had a new gimmick, plug tails, Mistress Lara was very proud of this new brain storm of hers, it would take some time to get the tails made and to alter some of her maids uniforms, but she knew just how humiliating these wonderful new toys would be for her sissy maids. She could hardly wait to get the first one, so she could see just how well it worked.
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY - How does it feel little girl to wear such a pretty dress?
Ten year old Joey finds out first hand what its like to wear dresses and panties, and how it feels to try to keep people from seeing his panties.
Chapter 1:
The way it started Ten year old Joey pouted furiously in his room on the second day of a three day grounding since his Sunday School teacher Mrs. Fairbanks, caught him looking up Nancy Parker's and Alice Mecca's dresses. These were the two girls that sat directly across from him.
Then of course Joan Timberly hadn't helped as she also gave him a view of her yellow panties. Joey's thoughts began to drift to the reason why he was in this predicament.
It just didn't make any sense. Girls just didn't make any sense at all! They wore pretty dresses, with all that fancy girl stuff on them, lace and frills and all. Just so boys could look at them and tell them how pretty they looked. They had all that girl stuff on their panties too but if anyone got caught looking at their panties, they got into trouble. Big trouble.
If girls didn't want anybody looking at their panties then how come they made them with so much pretty girl stuff on them? Why did they make their panties as pretty as their dresses? It just didn't make any sense to Joey.
It was the view that Nancy Parker afforded him that got him into trouble and he should have known better than to stare. Mrs. Fairbanks always kept a close eye on her students, to see if they were paying close attention. Nancy's pretty blue dress seemed to Joey to be a little short on her, which of course is what attracted his attention in the first place. That was why Joey made sure he sat directly across from her in class, so if and when the opportunity came he wouldn't miss a split second of the view.
As Mrs. Fairbanks rattled on, Nancy became more and more disinterested and began to fidget more and more. That was just what Joey was hoping for and he made up his mind he wasn't going to miss any chance to see what she had on under that pretty blue dress.
He soon got his chance when she innocently spread her legs as she shifted her position in her chair. The view was all he'd hoped for. The panties were a good match to her dress being a few shades lighter blue and that made them easy to see. The slip Nancy wore was white so that made the panties stand out more. As Nancy's attention became centered on two birds sitting on the windowsill to her left side, she turned her head to the left. At the same time swinging her left leg wide to the left she gave Joey an excellent view.
For some reason she also lifted her leg to rest it on the rung of the folding chair she was sitting on. This motion let the already short dress slide up to the top of her legs. This gave Joey a view he dared not even dream about. Not only did he get a full view of the crotch on the tightly pulled up panties against her girl part he saw the fancy stuff that went from the crotch up to her tummy and the lace that fringed the leg.
But what was that skin colored part peeking out from her panty? Joey was aghast at what he was looking at. Could this possibly be that ever so secret part, girls so expertly keep from view.
He forgot about any caution he needed to keep from getting caught, and just stared and stared at the most unexpected sight he'd ever seen. His stare was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Fairbanks shout! "Joey!" She shouted.
He was startled out of his revelry by Mrs. Fairbanks words, "Come with me! And Nancy sit up straight in your chair!"
Mrs. Fairbanks grabbed Joey by his arm and hauled him into an empty storage room. There she gave him the verbal thrashing of his life, saying at more than one point she wished she could give his back side a warming he would never ever forget. And she told him she would make that a strong point when talking to his mother about this filthy incident.
Chapter 1:
The way it started Ten year old Joey pouted furiously in his room on the second day of a three day grounding since his Sunday School teacher Mrs. Fairbanks, caught him looking up Nancy Parker's and Alice Mecca's dresses. These were the two girls that sat directly across from him.
Then of course Joan Timberly hadn't helped as she also gave him a view of her yellow panties. Joey's thoughts began to drift to the reason why he was in this predicament.
It just didn't make any sense. Girls just didn't make any sense at all! They wore pretty dresses, with all that fancy girl stuff on them, lace and frills and all. Just so boys could look at them and tell them how pretty they looked. They had all that girl stuff on their panties too but if anyone got caught looking at their panties, they got into trouble. Big trouble.
If girls didn't want anybody looking at their panties then how come they made them with so much pretty girl stuff on them? Why did they make their panties as pretty as their dresses? It just didn't make any sense to Joey.
It was the view that Nancy Parker afforded him that got him into trouble and he should have known better than to stare. Mrs. Fairbanks always kept a close eye on her students, to see if they were paying close attention. Nancy's pretty blue dress seemed to Joey to be a little short on her, which of course is what attracted his attention in the first place. That was why Joey made sure he sat directly across from her in class, so if and when the opportunity came he wouldn't miss a split second of the view.
As Mrs. Fairbanks rattled on, Nancy became more and more disinterested and began to fidget more and more. That was just what Joey was hoping for and he made up his mind he wasn't going to miss any chance to see what she had on under that pretty blue dress.
He soon got his chance when she innocently spread her legs as she shifted her position in her chair. The view was all he'd hoped for. The panties were a good match to her dress being a few shades lighter blue and that made them easy to see. The slip Nancy wore was white so that made the panties stand out more. As Nancy's attention became centered on two birds sitting on the windowsill to her left side, she turned her head to the left. At the same time swinging her left leg wide to the left she gave Joey an excellent view.
For some reason she also lifted her leg to rest it on the rung of the folding chair she was sitting on. This motion let the already short dress slide up to the top of her legs. This gave Joey a view he dared not even dream about. Not only did he get a full view of the crotch on the tightly pulled up panties against her girl part he saw the fancy stuff that went from the crotch up to her tummy and the lace that fringed the leg.
But what was that skin colored part peeking out from her panty? Joey was aghast at what he was looking at. Could this possibly be that ever so secret part, girls so expertly keep from view.
He forgot about any caution he needed to keep from getting caught, and just stared and stared at the most unexpected sight he'd ever seen. His stare was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Fairbanks shout! "Joey!" She shouted.
He was startled out of his revelry by Mrs. Fairbanks words, "Come with me! And Nancy sit up straight in your chair!"
Mrs. Fairbanks grabbed Joey by his arm and hauled him into an empty storage room. There she gave him the verbal thrashing of his life, saying at more than one point she wished she could give his back side a warming he would never ever forget. And she told him she would make that a strong point when talking to his mother about this filthy incident.
FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY - Mom? Could I have girl time all this weekend?
The Pirates had already scored 3 runs to Kevin's team 1 the Tigers, Kevin had not yet got his turn to play, and it was the 8th inning, he knew he would eventually get to play because it was League rules every one had a chance to play for a period of time.
Finally Coach Barns called for Kevin.
Kevin took his short stop position, the pitch went to the batter, and the batter hit a hot grounder right to Kevin, He put every thing he had into catching the ball, but it went right between his legs. The runner that was on 3rd base scored, and that made the score 4 to 1, favor the Pirates. Kevin recovered the ball and made a feeble throw to home plate.
The throw was way late, a few feet wide of the catcher, and several feet short.
Boo's rang from the crowd, and few plays later the Tigers were at bat.
Kevin stepped to the plate determined to bring in the 2 runners on 2nd and third base. Strike one the ump yelled, strike 2 the ump yelled, and finally strike 3 rang across the field.
Kevin's team members gave him a hard time and accused him of loosing the game for them, even though he had been responsible only for allowing the last run. He caught the brunt of his team mates wrath. Then the often time repeated taunts that he thru a ball like a girl.
On the drive home Kevin was near tears, and mom thought it best to let him sort things out for him self.
Kevin felt deep inside even at the age of 11 he felt very deeply he was a failure as a boy. He just could not do the things well that most boys did, like play baseball for instance.
It seemed so very complicated how mom had under very strict rules let him wear girls clothes, when he was in a dress he felt so much more comfortable and a peace came over him, that he felt at no other time.
Kevin loved his wardrobe of dresses, slips, panties, and night wear.
Mom seemed to encourage him in these girl activities, and never pushed or forced him, even grandma and aunt Mandy had seen him in dresses. Then the day came when Mrs. Tanner had given him his piano lesson in a dress.
As they drove home mom wanted to know if he wanted a root beer float, a very definite favorite of his, but he was so down he refused the offer.
Finally as they pulled into the driveway Kevin asked mom, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," mom said, "Ask away."
"Mom? Could I have girl time all this weekend?"
Mom asked back, "Do you mean you want to be Karen for the weekend?"
"Yes Mom, that's what I mean for the whole weekend!"
"Well honey, if that's what you want it's fine with me."
Kevin was feeling better already.
Now finally home it was time to put the miserable ball game behind him, and start being Karen. Kevin had learned the exquisite feeling of a bubble bath it had had become a preliminary necessity to his girl time. Mom had introduced him to this very girlish thing two years ago, and now before every girl time he took a long luxurious bubble bath.
Mom had drawn the bath for him and he stepped into the tub and relaxed, Oh it felt so good, the preliminary shower had washed off the dirt and grime of the ball field. And now the hot water and bubbles would soak into his body and weird as it sounded to him, the feeling made him feel so girlish.
As he leaned back and relaxed he wondered what dress mom would layout for him, he liked it this way, although he could choose his own dress if he wanted to, but it was more fun when mom chose his dress. It was a surprise when he walked in to his room and saw the dress lying on the bed. Often times he would let out a little girlish squeal of delight when he saw what he would be wearing.
Finally Coach Barns called for Kevin.
Kevin took his short stop position, the pitch went to the batter, and the batter hit a hot grounder right to Kevin, He put every thing he had into catching the ball, but it went right between his legs. The runner that was on 3rd base scored, and that made the score 4 to 1, favor the Pirates. Kevin recovered the ball and made a feeble throw to home plate.
The throw was way late, a few feet wide of the catcher, and several feet short.
Boo's rang from the crowd, and few plays later the Tigers were at bat.
Kevin stepped to the plate determined to bring in the 2 runners on 2nd and third base. Strike one the ump yelled, strike 2 the ump yelled, and finally strike 3 rang across the field.
Kevin's team members gave him a hard time and accused him of loosing the game for them, even though he had been responsible only for allowing the last run. He caught the brunt of his team mates wrath. Then the often time repeated taunts that he thru a ball like a girl.
On the drive home Kevin was near tears, and mom thought it best to let him sort things out for him self.
Kevin felt deep inside even at the age of 11 he felt very deeply he was a failure as a boy. He just could not do the things well that most boys did, like play baseball for instance.
It seemed so very complicated how mom had under very strict rules let him wear girls clothes, when he was in a dress he felt so much more comfortable and a peace came over him, that he felt at no other time.
Kevin loved his wardrobe of dresses, slips, panties, and night wear.
Mom seemed to encourage him in these girl activities, and never pushed or forced him, even grandma and aunt Mandy had seen him in dresses. Then the day came when Mrs. Tanner had given him his piano lesson in a dress.
As they drove home mom wanted to know if he wanted a root beer float, a very definite favorite of his, but he was so down he refused the offer.
Finally as they pulled into the driveway Kevin asked mom, "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," mom said, "Ask away."
"Mom? Could I have girl time all this weekend?"
Mom asked back, "Do you mean you want to be Karen for the weekend?"
"Yes Mom, that's what I mean for the whole weekend!"
"Well honey, if that's what you want it's fine with me."
Kevin was feeling better already.
Now finally home it was time to put the miserable ball game behind him, and start being Karen. Kevin had learned the exquisite feeling of a bubble bath it had had become a preliminary necessity to his girl time. Mom had introduced him to this very girlish thing two years ago, and now before every girl time he took a long luxurious bubble bath.
Mom had drawn the bath for him and he stepped into the tub and relaxed, Oh it felt so good, the preliminary shower had washed off the dirt and grime of the ball field. And now the hot water and bubbles would soak into his body and weird as it sounded to him, the feeling made him feel so girlish.
As he leaned back and relaxed he wondered what dress mom would layout for him, he liked it this way, although he could choose his own dress if he wanted to, but it was more fun when mom chose his dress. It was a surprise when he walked in to his room and saw the dress lying on the bed. Often times he would let out a little girlish squeal of delight when he saw what he would be wearing.
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY - Bad Boy to Good Girl
Ten year old Joey finds out first hand what its like to wear dresses and panties, and how it feels to try to keep people from seeing his panties.
Chapter 1:
The way it started Ten year old Joey pouted furiously in his room on the second day of a three day grounding since his Sunday School teacher Mrs. Fairbanks, caught him looking up Nancy Parker's and Alice Mecca's dresses. These were the two girls that sat directly across from him.
Then of course Joan Timberly hadn't helped as she also gave him a view of her yellow panties. Joey's thoughts began to drift to the reason why he was in this predicament.
It just didn't make any sense. Girls just didn't make any sense at all! They wore pretty dresses, with all that fancy girl stuff on them, lace and frills and all. Just so boys could look at them and tell them how pretty they looked. They had all that girl stuff on their panties too but if anyone got caught looking at their panties, they got into trouble. Big trouble.
If girls didn't want anybody looking at their panties then how come they made them with so much pretty girl stuff on them? Why did they make their panties as pretty as their dresses? It just didn't make any sense to Joey.
It was the view that Nancy Parker afforded him that got him into trouble and he should have known better than to stare. Mrs. Fairbanks always kept a close eye on her students, to see if they were paying close attention. Nancy's pretty blue dress seemed to Joey to be a little short on her, which of course is what attracted his attention in the first place. That was why Joey made sure he sat directly across from her in class, so if and when the opportunity came he wouldn't miss a split second of the view.
As Mrs. Fairbanks rattled on, Nancy became more and more disinterested and began to fidget more and more. That was just what Joey was hoping for and he made up his mind he wasn't going to miss any chance to see what she had on under that pretty blue dress.
He soon got his chance when she innocently spread her legs as she shifted her position in her chair. The view was all he'd hoped for. The panties were a good match to her dress being a few shades lighter blue and that made them easy to see. The slip Nancy wore was white so that made the panties stand out more. As Nancy's attention became centered on two birds sitting on the windowsill to her left side, she turned her head to the left. At the same time swinging her left leg wide to the left she gave Joey an excellent view.
For some reason she also lifted her leg to rest it on the rung of the folding chair she was sitting on. This motion let the already short dress slide up to the top of her legs. This gave Joey a view he dared not even dream about. Not only did he get a full view of the crotch on the tightly pulled up panties against her girl part he saw the fancy stuff that went from the crotch up to her tummy and the lace that fringed the leg.
But what was that skin colored part peeking out from her panty? Joey was aghast at what he was looking at. Could this possibly be that ever so secret part, girls so expertly keep from view.
He forgot about any caution he needed to keep from getting caught, and just stared and stared at the most unexpected sight he'd ever seen. His stare was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Fairbanks shout! "Joey!" She shouted.
He was startled out of his revelry by Mrs. Fairbanks words, "Come with me! And Nancy sit up straight in your chair!"
Chapter 1:
The way it started Ten year old Joey pouted furiously in his room on the second day of a three day grounding since his Sunday School teacher Mrs. Fairbanks, caught him looking up Nancy Parker's and Alice Mecca's dresses. These were the two girls that sat directly across from him.
Then of course Joan Timberly hadn't helped as she also gave him a view of her yellow panties. Joey's thoughts began to drift to the reason why he was in this predicament.
It just didn't make any sense. Girls just didn't make any sense at all! They wore pretty dresses, with all that fancy girl stuff on them, lace and frills and all. Just so boys could look at them and tell them how pretty they looked. They had all that girl stuff on their panties too but if anyone got caught looking at their panties, they got into trouble. Big trouble.
If girls didn't want anybody looking at their panties then how come they made them with so much pretty girl stuff on them? Why did they make their panties as pretty as their dresses? It just didn't make any sense to Joey.
It was the view that Nancy Parker afforded him that got him into trouble and he should have known better than to stare. Mrs. Fairbanks always kept a close eye on her students, to see if they were paying close attention. Nancy's pretty blue dress seemed to Joey to be a little short on her, which of course is what attracted his attention in the first place. That was why Joey made sure he sat directly across from her in class, so if and when the opportunity came he wouldn't miss a split second of the view.
As Mrs. Fairbanks rattled on, Nancy became more and more disinterested and began to fidget more and more. That was just what Joey was hoping for and he made up his mind he wasn't going to miss any chance to see what she had on under that pretty blue dress.
He soon got his chance when she innocently spread her legs as she shifted her position in her chair. The view was all he'd hoped for. The panties were a good match to her dress being a few shades lighter blue and that made them easy to see. The slip Nancy wore was white so that made the panties stand out more. As Nancy's attention became centered on two birds sitting on the windowsill to her left side, she turned her head to the left. At the same time swinging her left leg wide to the left she gave Joey an excellent view.
For some reason she also lifted her leg to rest it on the rung of the folding chair she was sitting on. This motion let the already short dress slide up to the top of her legs. This gave Joey a view he dared not even dream about. Not only did he get a full view of the crotch on the tightly pulled up panties against her girl part he saw the fancy stuff that went from the crotch up to her tummy and the lace that fringed the leg.
But what was that skin colored part peeking out from her panty? Joey was aghast at what he was looking at. Could this possibly be that ever so secret part, girls so expertly keep from view.
He forgot about any caution he needed to keep from getting caught, and just stared and stared at the most unexpected sight he'd ever seen. His stare was suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Fairbanks shout! "Joey!" She shouted.
He was startled out of his revelry by Mrs. Fairbanks words, "Come with me! And Nancy sit up straight in your chair!"
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY - Plug Tails - this very feminine thing attached to his butt was a source of great amusement to any spectator.
Mistress Lara took special pleasure in making her sissy maids keep butt plugs installed for long periods of time. She was well aware of the discomfort these wonderful simple devices caused her pansy little sissy maids. She also knew the humiliation of having to wear such a thing up their little butts was a source she could use when humiliating one of these pathetic creatures in front of her guests.
One of her past inventions was the ball end plug. It had a small ball built on the end of the plug. This was a favorite thing she used when one of her maids got a little lazy or slow in the performance of his duties. If the pathetic thing needed rest, she certainly could oblige. Installing a six inch length model ball plug up his precious rear she would then make him sit on a wooden stool, then strap him down tight making the ball end of the plug put a hard pressure up his sissy butt. It wasn't long before the sissy would beg to be released from his ordeal and would promise faithfully to perform faster and more efficiently.
She took extra pleasure in making him beg to show her guests the reason for his willingness to work better. When he was released he would have to put his back to the quests, lift his skirt above his tight fitting panties revealing the bulge the ball made. Then the quests would laugh and ask what the funny little bulge was in the back of his panties. Then he would have to beg Mistress to let him lower his panties and show the quests the ball end of the plug.
Many times the quests would demand a closer look and he would have to stand in front of each quest with his back toward them, then with his panties lowered bend forward so each quest could inspect the ball plug. Many times they would push it forward just so they could cause him more discomfort. Needles to say the maids hated the regular butt plugs, but the ball plug was something they tried hard to avoid. The harder they tried avoidance the more Mistress Lara enjoyed using her favorite toy.
But now she had a new gimmick, plug tails, Mistress Lara was very proud of this new brain storm of hers, it would take some time to get the tails made and to alter some of her maids uniforms, but she knew just how humiliating these wonderful new toys would be for her sissy maids. She could hardly wait to get the first one, so she could see just how well it worked.
One of her past inventions was the ball end plug. It had a small ball built on the end of the plug. This was a favorite thing she used when one of her maids got a little lazy or slow in the performance of his duties. If the pathetic thing needed rest, she certainly could oblige. Installing a six inch length model ball plug up his precious rear she would then make him sit on a wooden stool, then strap him down tight making the ball end of the plug put a hard pressure up his sissy butt. It wasn't long before the sissy would beg to be released from his ordeal and would promise faithfully to perform faster and more efficiently.
She took extra pleasure in making him beg to show her guests the reason for his willingness to work better. When he was released he would have to put his back to the quests, lift his skirt above his tight fitting panties revealing the bulge the ball made. Then the quests would laugh and ask what the funny little bulge was in the back of his panties. Then he would have to beg Mistress to let him lower his panties and show the quests the ball end of the plug.
Many times the quests would demand a closer look and he would have to stand in front of each quest with his back toward them, then with his panties lowered bend forward so each quest could inspect the ball plug. Many times they would push it forward just so they could cause him more discomfort. Needles to say the maids hated the regular butt plugs, but the ball plug was something they tried hard to avoid. The harder they tried avoidance the more Mistress Lara enjoyed using her favorite toy.
But now she had a new gimmick, plug tails, Mistress Lara was very proud of this new brain storm of hers, it would take some time to get the tails made and to alter some of her maids uniforms, but she knew just how humiliating these wonderful new toys would be for her sissy maids. She could hardly wait to get the first one, so she could see just how well it worked.
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY - "I see your panties, I see your panties," mom sang out.
"But Mom, I'm a boy I don't want to grow up to be a proper young lady, I just want to be a boy," whined Josh, "Why do I have to wear this dress? And why did you make it so short?"
It was Saturday morning and baseball practice was at 1:PM, but Josh had a problem to take care of first.
For the hundredth time he had been the one singled out for teasing the girls, and mom got the note from school. That was last Monday, and mom had been busy sewing and making Josh stand there in just his Jockey shorts while mom did all sorts of measuring. What bothered Josh most was the kind of measurements she took was different than when she made him shirts and pants.
Then when the rough was finished he realized it was a slip like girls wear, then the next item was a white blouse, then of all things a dress like garment that mom called a pinafore. Then she told him she was going to make the cutest matching panties for his new outfit.
He almost passed out when mom told him he would be wearing these items a few hours each day to learn what it was like to wear a dress, and have someone tease him. She added if you can't learn to be a nice little boy and stop teasing the girls, then you'll be a nice little girl then you will see what its like to be teased. This cute little Pinafore is good start.
It was early and Josh had his shower and mom was waiting for him when he dashed into his room, stark naked, and quickly tired to cover himself up, after all he was ten years old and he wasn't about to let mom see him naked.
But Mom had other plans for her son this day and Josh was about to find out just what those plans were. There on the bed all laid out very neatly was that darn Pinafore dress with the slip and panties right beside it. Josh just stood there in amazement as it dawned on him what was happening.
It was Saturday morning and baseball practice was at 1:PM, but Josh had a problem to take care of first.
For the hundredth time he had been the one singled out for teasing the girls, and mom got the note from school. That was last Monday, and mom had been busy sewing and making Josh stand there in just his Jockey shorts while mom did all sorts of measuring. What bothered Josh most was the kind of measurements she took was different than when she made him shirts and pants.
Then when the rough was finished he realized it was a slip like girls wear, then the next item was a white blouse, then of all things a dress like garment that mom called a pinafore. Then she told him she was going to make the cutest matching panties for his new outfit.
He almost passed out when mom told him he would be wearing these items a few hours each day to learn what it was like to wear a dress, and have someone tease him. She added if you can't learn to be a nice little boy and stop teasing the girls, then you'll be a nice little girl then you will see what its like to be teased. This cute little Pinafore is good start.
It was early and Josh had his shower and mom was waiting for him when he dashed into his room, stark naked, and quickly tired to cover himself up, after all he was ten years old and he wasn't about to let mom see him naked.
But Mom had other plans for her son this day and Josh was about to find out just what those plans were. There on the bed all laid out very neatly was that darn Pinafore dress with the slip and panties right beside it. Josh just stood there in amazement as it dawned on him what was happening.
At the "MUJERADOS" Club in Buenos Aires, Argentina
I used to live in Argentina, and I knew the "Mujerados" Club in Buenos Aires very well. I am sorry to hear of its having been closed – the same fate as that received by the "EI Dorado" in Berlin when Hitler came into power. Both clubs were of the same type, being places where the man or woman who liked dressing and making up as a member of the opposite sex could move about in complete freedom. Why, I wonder, do some authorities consider such action taboo and close such establishments? For, as your writer rightly says, there are many men about who delight in wearing the silks; satins, corsets and high heels for so long considered the prerogative of the fair sex.
In Buenos Aires I had a friend who was never happier than when dressed and made up as a woman, and as a pretty one, too, all with the complete cooperation of his wife. These were not French, so they could not have been your writer and her husband. He believed in tight-lacing and had a remarkably trim figure, which was always emphasized by the chic things his wife got him to wear.
His slim shapely legs were his forte, as he well knew, for his skirt length was always such as to allow of a generous view of long nylon-clad limb s as he sat with crossed legs and a dainty high-heeled shoe balancing up and down in front.
It was my friends, indeed, who took me along for the first time to the "Mujerados." This word, by the way for your feminist minded readers, means, "effeminished males”; and indication of the origin of the club, though, as your contributor mentioned, it later became the rendezvous for both male and female impersonators, amateur and professional.
I saw many men there in dainty feminine guise, all thoroughly happy to be able to app ear in public in their transformation. As your writer; said, the club was exclusive, and I know it was very expensive, a guarantee in it self that those members appearing "changed-over" would only do so complete to the last detail, regardless of expense.
The floor show always had a strong element of impersonation in it , and many have been the un knowing visitors who have been completely taken in by the daring, ogling dancing or singing "girls" appearing there before them. Even the two cigarette and hat check girls, in their close-fitting satin frocks with diminutive skirt, revealing the full length of shapely legs in prettily gartered nylon mesh stockings, and swaying on their pencil heels, turned out to he two youths who had learned to make up and act perfectly as girls, and who obviously loved doing so.
They had learned all the tricks of luring the male – ogling, tucking a note away in the vee of a realistic bosom or in the top of a hip-length stocking – and the measure of the success of their transformation was reflected in the attention they received. One of them I saw at the close of the evening leave the premises arm-in-arm with a young lady – probably of the masterful type – but they would apparently be two girls together, for the youth looked chic in a little hat, gloves, fitted costume and high heels. Such was the erstwhile life at the "Mujerados".
In Buenos Aires I had a friend who was never happier than when dressed and made up as a woman, and as a pretty one, too, all with the complete cooperation of his wife. These were not French, so they could not have been your writer and her husband. He believed in tight-lacing and had a remarkably trim figure, which was always emphasized by the chic things his wife got him to wear.
His slim shapely legs were his forte, as he well knew, for his skirt length was always such as to allow of a generous view of long nylon-clad limb s as he sat with crossed legs and a dainty high-heeled shoe balancing up and down in front.
It was my friends, indeed, who took me along for the first time to the "Mujerados." This word, by the way for your feminist minded readers, means, "effeminished males”; and indication of the origin of the club, though, as your contributor mentioned, it later became the rendezvous for both male and female impersonators, amateur and professional.
I saw many men there in dainty feminine guise, all thoroughly happy to be able to app ear in public in their transformation. As your writer; said, the club was exclusive, and I know it was very expensive, a guarantee in it self that those members appearing "changed-over" would only do so complete to the last detail, regardless of expense.
The floor show always had a strong element of impersonation in it , and many have been the un knowing visitors who have been completely taken in by the daring, ogling dancing or singing "girls" appearing there before them. Even the two cigarette and hat check girls, in their close-fitting satin frocks with diminutive skirt, revealing the full length of shapely legs in prettily gartered nylon mesh stockings, and swaying on their pencil heels, turned out to he two youths who had learned to make up and act perfectly as girls, and who obviously loved doing so.
They had learned all the tricks of luring the male – ogling, tucking a note away in the vee of a realistic bosom or in the top of a hip-length stocking – and the measure of the success of their transformation was reflected in the attention they received. One of them I saw at the close of the evening leave the premises arm-in-arm with a young lady – probably of the masterful type – but they would apparently be two girls together, for the youth looked chic in a little hat, gloves, fitted costume and high heels. Such was the erstwhile life at the "Mujerados".
FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY – HER FIRST DATE… OR, DREAMS COME TRUE
Philip picked up the envelope, which had just dropped through the letterbox of the front door and, recognising the postmark, with trembling fingers of anticipation he quickly opened it. Eagerly he scanned the letter in his hands, the first line of which began "Dearest Philippa, I was delighted to receive your last letter and agree that it is high time that we should meet." As he read on, his excitement rose, impatiently flicking over the pages until with a pleased smile he reached the end, with its usual flourished signature.
Mounting the stairs with the sheaf of pages in one hand and the torn envelope in the other he started to read the letter again, just to make sure that he had understood correctly. He looked up as he entered his bedroom, and placing the letter on the bedside table, he walked to the wardrobe and opened it with a slight frown furrowing his brow. The date and time was now decided for the occasion, which he had dreamed of for a long time. All he had to do now was to possess himself in patience until the great day, and in the meantime, there was the age old question to be answered – what was a girl to wear?
Over the years he had gradually acquired quite a collection of dresses and skirts, all of which had been carefully selected to fulfil the single purpose of making him appear more feminine. He wanted to choose the most appropriate for this occasion and slowly he sorted through his collection, selecting one after another, holding them up on the hanger, regarding them, pensively and occasionally turning to look in the wall mirror with the selected item held again him. Obviously, he thought, I want to look my best, and feel my best, when I arrive, but there’s the journey to think of, so I don't want to be restricted to anything impractical. He replaced the last dress, deciding that the thing must not be rushed, and turned to the chest of drawers next to the mirror.
At least there wasn’t much doubt about which outfit of undies he would select. He reached into the drawer and picked up the neatly folded garments. No, he grinned, these beauties would definitely suite the purpose, and he savoured the silky feel of the layers of material in his hands and carefully placed them back to await the due day. The next few days seem to pass so slowly for Phillip, and despite his energetic efforts to concentrate on his work, the hours after he returned to the empty house were a constant temptation and on several occasions he came close to giving in to his wants. But he restrained himself, and concentrated on making preparations to save time on the day.
He went to the barbers for a trim and afterwards he lovingly groomed his wig, brushing and combing it to shining perfection on its stand. He washed again and ironed his treasured underthings, and he bought a new pair of stockings from the old fashioned shop in the town. He carefully cleaned his eyelashes, removing the last traces of clogged mascara and glue, and re-painted his nails with a deep red gloss, placing them aside in their box to dry. He picked thoughtfully through his jewellery box to collect the ensemble he would wear with the selected outfit, and finally polished his black shoes and handbag. The only question still to be decided was how he should travel.
The car was the obvious answer, and that was obviously why the little map had been included with the letter. But it dawned on him with only one day to go that Philippa hadn’t actually driven before. Her high heels wouldn't be suitable for the pedals but he decided plenty of girls get over that problem by driving in their stocking feet, and that's what he'd do. It was a good job he'd bought a new pair of stockings. He’d keep them as a spare pair, and he packed them with his night-things and toilet bag in his suitcase.
As he would be travelling on Friday evening, Thursday night was his last night in his own bed and although he left it till quite late before going up, sleep would not come. He felt his heart beating with the anticipation of the exciting events, which would be coming tomorrow and going over in his mind the final preparations he would be making when the workday was over, when he would be preparing Philippa for her most important meeting. And although his old friend was asking to play he determinedly ignored the invitation and turned on his side and finally slept. He hardly remembered the details of the following day, as he threw himself wholeheartedly into the daily rituals and forced himself not to look at his watch as the hours flew by, until it was time at last to hurry back home to the carefully planned metamorphosis.
Taking the stairs two at a time he quickly started the bath running and tipped in a generous measure of perfumed oil. In the bedroom, he rapidly took off all his clothes, putting them away. For the last time until they would be needed again on Monday. It seemed an age away. Settling back in the warm oily water, he savoured its sensuous feel and began to thoroughly shave every inch of his body, with the exception of the bush around his crotch, which he carefully trimmed with a pair of nail scissors when he was dry. As he shaved for the second time that day he remembered the many times in the past he had considered complete depilation, but the thought of possible comments when he appeared at the Tennis Club had inhibited him. No time now for inhibition, he thought as he applied underarm deodorant, this was the time for the final commitment.
And now for the dressing Philippa. His blonde hair was first put in place and adjusted with a comb to fall delicately, with just the right amount of undercurl. Then the make-up base gently applied to chin and neck to give a slightly more girlish palor to his skin. A little blusher to highlight the cheekbones and pencil to the eyebrows accentuated their natural curve and colour. Then the tricky application of the eyelashes using the make-up mirror on its angled stem, and just sufficient gum so that no excess would show. Liner to the eyelids and just a touch of blue shadow completed the treatment. Finally he applied lipstick, the colour matching his nail varnish, contorting his lips so that the line was easier to follow and after blotting off the excess on a tissue. Philippa blinked experimentally in the mirror. With a satisfied smile he turned to the nether matters.
Mounting the stairs with the sheaf of pages in one hand and the torn envelope in the other he started to read the letter again, just to make sure that he had understood correctly. He looked up as he entered his bedroom, and placing the letter on the bedside table, he walked to the wardrobe and opened it with a slight frown furrowing his brow. The date and time was now decided for the occasion, which he had dreamed of for a long time. All he had to do now was to possess himself in patience until the great day, and in the meantime, there was the age old question to be answered – what was a girl to wear?
Over the years he had gradually acquired quite a collection of dresses and skirts, all of which had been carefully selected to fulfil the single purpose of making him appear more feminine. He wanted to choose the most appropriate for this occasion and slowly he sorted through his collection, selecting one after another, holding them up on the hanger, regarding them, pensively and occasionally turning to look in the wall mirror with the selected item held again him. Obviously, he thought, I want to look my best, and feel my best, when I arrive, but there’s the journey to think of, so I don't want to be restricted to anything impractical. He replaced the last dress, deciding that the thing must not be rushed, and turned to the chest of drawers next to the mirror.
At least there wasn’t much doubt about which outfit of undies he would select. He reached into the drawer and picked up the neatly folded garments. No, he grinned, these beauties would definitely suite the purpose, and he savoured the silky feel of the layers of material in his hands and carefully placed them back to await the due day. The next few days seem to pass so slowly for Phillip, and despite his energetic efforts to concentrate on his work, the hours after he returned to the empty house were a constant temptation and on several occasions he came close to giving in to his wants. But he restrained himself, and concentrated on making preparations to save time on the day.
He went to the barbers for a trim and afterwards he lovingly groomed his wig, brushing and combing it to shining perfection on its stand. He washed again and ironed his treasured underthings, and he bought a new pair of stockings from the old fashioned shop in the town. He carefully cleaned his eyelashes, removing the last traces of clogged mascara and glue, and re-painted his nails with a deep red gloss, placing them aside in their box to dry. He picked thoughtfully through his jewellery box to collect the ensemble he would wear with the selected outfit, and finally polished his black shoes and handbag. The only question still to be decided was how he should travel.
The car was the obvious answer, and that was obviously why the little map had been included with the letter. But it dawned on him with only one day to go that Philippa hadn’t actually driven before. Her high heels wouldn't be suitable for the pedals but he decided plenty of girls get over that problem by driving in their stocking feet, and that's what he'd do. It was a good job he'd bought a new pair of stockings. He’d keep them as a spare pair, and he packed them with his night-things and toilet bag in his suitcase.
As he would be travelling on Friday evening, Thursday night was his last night in his own bed and although he left it till quite late before going up, sleep would not come. He felt his heart beating with the anticipation of the exciting events, which would be coming tomorrow and going over in his mind the final preparations he would be making when the workday was over, when he would be preparing Philippa for her most important meeting. And although his old friend was asking to play he determinedly ignored the invitation and turned on his side and finally slept. He hardly remembered the details of the following day, as he threw himself wholeheartedly into the daily rituals and forced himself not to look at his watch as the hours flew by, until it was time at last to hurry back home to the carefully planned metamorphosis.
Taking the stairs two at a time he quickly started the bath running and tipped in a generous measure of perfumed oil. In the bedroom, he rapidly took off all his clothes, putting them away. For the last time until they would be needed again on Monday. It seemed an age away. Settling back in the warm oily water, he savoured its sensuous feel and began to thoroughly shave every inch of his body, with the exception of the bush around his crotch, which he carefully trimmed with a pair of nail scissors when he was dry. As he shaved for the second time that day he remembered the many times in the past he had considered complete depilation, but the thought of possible comments when he appeared at the Tennis Club had inhibited him. No time now for inhibition, he thought as he applied underarm deodorant, this was the time for the final commitment.
And now for the dressing Philippa. His blonde hair was first put in place and adjusted with a comb to fall delicately, with just the right amount of undercurl. Then the make-up base gently applied to chin and neck to give a slightly more girlish palor to his skin. A little blusher to highlight the cheekbones and pencil to the eyebrows accentuated their natural curve and colour. Then the tricky application of the eyelashes using the make-up mirror on its angled stem, and just sufficient gum so that no excess would show. Liner to the eyelids and just a touch of blue shadow completed the treatment. Finally he applied lipstick, the colour matching his nail varnish, contorting his lips so that the line was easier to follow and after blotting off the excess on a tissue. Philippa blinked experimentally in the mirror. With a satisfied smile he turned to the nether matters.
FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY – MY FLATMATE A TRANSVESTITE AND I DIDN'T KNEW IT
"I'm back" shouted as dropped my cases in the hall. As I passed my flatmates bedroom I kicked the closed door. "Nick, you in there?” Total silence. I looked in the lounge – the table lamp was on. Nick had probably gone to the pub. From the lingering aroma of Chanel No.19 he probably had female company. He isn't going to be very happy when he finds I'm back a day early, I thought to myself. I put my cases in my room and went to the kitchen for a beer and settled down in the lounge to compose my report on the job I had just been on. An hour later heard the flat door being opened. I thought I'd wait in the lounge and see the expression on Nicks face when he and whatever girl he had, found me there.
I heard Nick's room door opening. I thought you randy sod. Next a female started moving in the kitchen. I knew it was a female as I heard high heels on the bare kitchen floor. It also sounded like she was making tea. I went to say hello. Nick's room was empty, so I went to the kitchen. The girl stood, with her back to me. She was quite tall and slim. Her hair was blonde and shoulder length. She was wearing a maroon pencil skirt and a light grey satin blouse. I was right about the high heels – they matched her skirt in colour and had at least 4" heels. Black tights or stockings covered her legs. Knowing Nick they probably would be stockings.
"Hello, I'm Nick's flatmate" I announced. She turned round. She was very pretty and very buxom. I had a feeling I had seen her before. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. "Oh Christ!" she said. It was my turn to look as if I had seen a ghost. The voice was Nick's. I was speechless. "Your back early. I knew I had made a mistake doing this". "It is you isn't it Nick"? I stammered. "Yes. I shouldn't have done it. I knew I'd get found out." Nick said.
"Your a transvestite?" "Yes I am". Nick sat down. I don't think I blamed him because I needed to. Nick looked at me the tears running down his pretty face and destroying his make-up. "What are you going to think? I'll leave if you want. I don't know what I'm going to do. " "You don't need to leave if you don't want to". "Thanks". Nick had by now controlled his crying. "How long have you been doing this Nick or is it Nicole". "Since I was 18 and it is Nicole" she smiled. "I'm going to have to think about this. You are very convincing. I suggest you sort your makeup and fix us a very stiff drink. I think I need it and you look as if you do as well". "O.K. I'll do that drink". "I'm going to my room to think".
I sat down on my bed. I couldn't believe it. My flatmate a transvestite and I didn't know it. Still it solved a problem it would be easier for me to tell Nicole that I too was a TV. I also knew where I had seen her before. It was in a TV magazine. After an hour I was ready. I was now Gwen. I checked myself in the mirror and saw that everything looked good. The living room door was open. Nicole was watching television. Her back was towards me. "Nicole you’re being a TV doesn't worry me. In fact I'm glad you are". By now Nicole had turned round. Her mouth opened when she saw me.
"Well then" she said "I can see why, your glad, you look really good Gwen. Now it was my turn to be open mouthed. "You know my name." I said. "Of course your on the front cover of this months TV world, I think this solves a lot of problems for us". "Your right Nicole. Where’s that stiff drink I think we should celebrate". "Here’s to us” Nicole said.
I heard Nick's room door opening. I thought you randy sod. Next a female started moving in the kitchen. I knew it was a female as I heard high heels on the bare kitchen floor. It also sounded like she was making tea. I went to say hello. Nick's room was empty, so I went to the kitchen. The girl stood, with her back to me. She was quite tall and slim. Her hair was blonde and shoulder length. She was wearing a maroon pencil skirt and a light grey satin blouse. I was right about the high heels – they matched her skirt in colour and had at least 4" heels. Black tights or stockings covered her legs. Knowing Nick they probably would be stockings.
"Hello, I'm Nick's flatmate" I announced. She turned round. She was very pretty and very buxom. I had a feeling I had seen her before. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. "Oh Christ!" she said. It was my turn to look as if I had seen a ghost. The voice was Nick's. I was speechless. "Your back early. I knew I had made a mistake doing this". "It is you isn't it Nick"? I stammered. "Yes. I shouldn't have done it. I knew I'd get found out." Nick said.
"Your a transvestite?" "Yes I am". Nick sat down. I don't think I blamed him because I needed to. Nick looked at me the tears running down his pretty face and destroying his make-up. "What are you going to think? I'll leave if you want. I don't know what I'm going to do. " "You don't need to leave if you don't want to". "Thanks". Nick had by now controlled his crying. "How long have you been doing this Nick or is it Nicole". "Since I was 18 and it is Nicole" she smiled. "I'm going to have to think about this. You are very convincing. I suggest you sort your makeup and fix us a very stiff drink. I think I need it and you look as if you do as well". "O.K. I'll do that drink". "I'm going to my room to think".
I sat down on my bed. I couldn't believe it. My flatmate a transvestite and I didn't know it. Still it solved a problem it would be easier for me to tell Nicole that I too was a TV. I also knew where I had seen her before. It was in a TV magazine. After an hour I was ready. I was now Gwen. I checked myself in the mirror and saw that everything looked good. The living room door was open. Nicole was watching television. Her back was towards me. "Nicole you’re being a TV doesn't worry me. In fact I'm glad you are". By now Nicole had turned round. Her mouth opened when she saw me.
"Well then" she said "I can see why, your glad, you look really good Gwen. Now it was my turn to be open mouthed. "You know my name." I said. "Of course your on the front cover of this months TV world, I think this solves a lot of problems for us". "Your right Nicole. Where’s that stiff drink I think we should celebrate". "Here’s to us” Nicole said.
FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY – ABOUT THE SHEER JOY BEEN DRESSED IN HIS PRETTY STEWARDESS UNIFORM
David Pearson had been working for Europe Airlines for almost two years as an air steward and was enjoying himself more than any other time in his life. Not only did he have the chance to work with a delicious group of stewardesses, but also he was also able to live on his own in a flat fairly close to Heathrow.
To David this second bonus far outweighed the first because by living alone he was able to keep his precious little secret. David had been wearing pretty lacy undies under his stewards uniform for both his two years at E.A. but since the age of about four or five he had collected and worn each a range of pretty clothes that even he couldn't remember them all.
Since moving in on his own he had spent the vast proporiton of his wages on building an expensive wardrobe of clothes (ranging from simple bra and pantie sets to chic little outfits to wear to work as an 'office girl' or at night to a local disco. During his no-working hours he would always spend time either dressing up or 'dressed' doing the housework. On a few occasions he had actually ventured out as a 'girl' either just walking or out shopping. On these occasions he would become 'DEBBIE' and live completely as a girl, which of course he longed to be.
During work however his favourite love would have to be curtailed slightly because nobody knew his secret life, but this did not prevent him from wearing his favourite items underneath. In fact even with a short-sleeved airline issue white shirt he could easily wear a white or cream camisole top or one of his favourite camiknickers sets with frothy lace round the bodice and legs.
This he had been doing for about two years now and had also began to wear one of his matching lacey bras to match his French knickers and suspender belt as well as his camisole. It was to be this habit that on one particular flight proved to be his undoing quite liberally. He had spent the weekend dressed as Debbie and have ventured out during Saturday to buy a skirt and blouse from Richards that he had wanted for a long time.
The blouse was in cerise with padded shoulders and shirttails very fashionable. The only thing was he only possessed underwear in white, pink, cream, beige and black, none of which matched the blouse. After looking around he finally decided to buy a suspender belt, french knickers, half slip and bra from B.H.S. The only thing was the only bra in size 36C cup - his size, was an underwired design with detachable straps - he much preferred the soft-liner design with lace cups because he could always wear them to work. Either way it matched the outfit and when he tried everything on later he found it fitted very nicely around his false bust and narrow back.
On Monday however he couldn't bear to leave his new undies behind so he stripped everything on under his uniform and caught the bus to work. The flight left on time at 8:30 to Oslo and everything was fine for about an hour or so. At about 9:30 just after breakfast had been collected he felt a little hot in the confined cabin space and removed his tunic. He remembered what, he was wearing underneath and checked to see whether his shirt was at all see through, it wasn't so he carried on working. Fiona and Carole were helping him collect the last trays and when they continued talking to him normally he knew everything was O.K. What he hadn't bargained for was Cheryl the stewardess in charge patting him on the back for doing a good job.
Had he been wearing one of his more skimpy bras nothing would have happened but he wasn't he was wearing his new cerise underwired bra and Cheryl knew that something wasn't exactly right. David froze for a second and looked straight ahead of him hoping that she would simply assume he was a little lacking in muscle around his back and was a bit bony there. However Cheryl's hand went back to the area of his bra clasp and began outlining the shape of his bra through his shirt. Swinging round quickly David turned to face Cheryl and tried to speak but he could only stand with his mouth open as Cheryl reached forward and outlined the wire of each cup as well as the lace edged cups.
A grin came across her face as she began undoing his shirt and her eyes opened wide when she pushed back his shirt to reveal a very pretty lace edged half-slip covering an equally pretty bra. "So we've got our best undies on for this flight have we David, fancy that a real transvestite working on my plane". Saying that she began undoing his belt to his trousers and soon had them down around his ankles. David was frozen to the spot, which left him incapable of resisting even if he had wanted to. At that point Fiona and Carole both walked in and David's humiliation was just about complete.
"Look girls, we've got a transvestite working with us on this flight and she's wearing her undies just for us" Cheryl said. Both girls looked at each other and began to giggle as only girls can in that situation. "Well young lady I suppose your going to explain it all away now with a story about going to a fancy dress party or not realising what you had put on so early in the morning. Well you can save your breath because its plain to see you are a transvestite, a boy who dresses up in pretty girls undies and maybe even skirts and blouses too. You needn't worry though love because we could always do with an extra girl on these flights so perhaps you'd better get dressed and see me after the flight."
To David this second bonus far outweighed the first because by living alone he was able to keep his precious little secret. David had been wearing pretty lacy undies under his stewards uniform for both his two years at E.A. but since the age of about four or five he had collected and worn each a range of pretty clothes that even he couldn't remember them all.
Since moving in on his own he had spent the vast proporiton of his wages on building an expensive wardrobe of clothes (ranging from simple bra and pantie sets to chic little outfits to wear to work as an 'office girl' or at night to a local disco. During his no-working hours he would always spend time either dressing up or 'dressed' doing the housework. On a few occasions he had actually ventured out as a 'girl' either just walking or out shopping. On these occasions he would become 'DEBBIE' and live completely as a girl, which of course he longed to be.
During work however his favourite love would have to be curtailed slightly because nobody knew his secret life, but this did not prevent him from wearing his favourite items underneath. In fact even with a short-sleeved airline issue white shirt he could easily wear a white or cream camisole top or one of his favourite camiknickers sets with frothy lace round the bodice and legs.
This he had been doing for about two years now and had also began to wear one of his matching lacey bras to match his French knickers and suspender belt as well as his camisole. It was to be this habit that on one particular flight proved to be his undoing quite liberally. He had spent the weekend dressed as Debbie and have ventured out during Saturday to buy a skirt and blouse from Richards that he had wanted for a long time.
The blouse was in cerise with padded shoulders and shirttails very fashionable. The only thing was he only possessed underwear in white, pink, cream, beige and black, none of which matched the blouse. After looking around he finally decided to buy a suspender belt, french knickers, half slip and bra from B.H.S. The only thing was the only bra in size 36C cup - his size, was an underwired design with detachable straps - he much preferred the soft-liner design with lace cups because he could always wear them to work. Either way it matched the outfit and when he tried everything on later he found it fitted very nicely around his false bust and narrow back.
On Monday however he couldn't bear to leave his new undies behind so he stripped everything on under his uniform and caught the bus to work. The flight left on time at 8:30 to Oslo and everything was fine for about an hour or so. At about 9:30 just after breakfast had been collected he felt a little hot in the confined cabin space and removed his tunic. He remembered what, he was wearing underneath and checked to see whether his shirt was at all see through, it wasn't so he carried on working. Fiona and Carole were helping him collect the last trays and when they continued talking to him normally he knew everything was O.K. What he hadn't bargained for was Cheryl the stewardess in charge patting him on the back for doing a good job.
Had he been wearing one of his more skimpy bras nothing would have happened but he wasn't he was wearing his new cerise underwired bra and Cheryl knew that something wasn't exactly right. David froze for a second and looked straight ahead of him hoping that she would simply assume he was a little lacking in muscle around his back and was a bit bony there. However Cheryl's hand went back to the area of his bra clasp and began outlining the shape of his bra through his shirt. Swinging round quickly David turned to face Cheryl and tried to speak but he could only stand with his mouth open as Cheryl reached forward and outlined the wire of each cup as well as the lace edged cups.
A grin came across her face as she began undoing his shirt and her eyes opened wide when she pushed back his shirt to reveal a very pretty lace edged half-slip covering an equally pretty bra. "So we've got our best undies on for this flight have we David, fancy that a real transvestite working on my plane". Saying that she began undoing his belt to his trousers and soon had them down around his ankles. David was frozen to the spot, which left him incapable of resisting even if he had wanted to. At that point Fiona and Carole both walked in and David's humiliation was just about complete.
"Look girls, we've got a transvestite working with us on this flight and she's wearing her undies just for us" Cheryl said. Both girls looked at each other and began to giggle as only girls can in that situation. "Well young lady I suppose your going to explain it all away now with a story about going to a fancy dress party or not realising what you had put on so early in the morning. Well you can save your breath because its plain to see you are a transvestite, a boy who dresses up in pretty girls undies and maybe even skirts and blouses too. You needn't worry though love because we could always do with an extra girl on these flights so perhaps you'd better get dressed and see me after the flight."
FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY – YOU WILL BECOME OUR RUBBER SLAVE MAID PAULA
For the sixth or seventh time Paul's courage failed him at the doorway of the shop. Frustrated and close to tears at his cowardice he went into the sandwich bar across the street. Under his polo-necked jersey, trousers, shoes, socks and leather gloves he felt his tight latex suit slide wetly over his skin and he was particularly aware of the wetness in the fitted gloves. He sat up straight on the stool acutely conscious of the harshly boned rubber corset he had on with the equally rigid wide saddle strap that doubled as a cache-sex and the knickers.
He glanced at the clock and now he would have to pluck up courage soon. He almost dropped his cup when a hand squeezed his arm and, as he turned, his mouth opened and he blushed furiously at the woman on the adjacent stool who was looking at him quizzically. He could feel beads of perspiration start as he recognised her: the woman he had seen through the window of the shop immaculate in boots, a black leather skirt and matching tunic.
He stammered his apologies as she smiled and asked: "Aren't you going to ask if I'd like a coffee? Black - no sugar please", Paul got the coffee in a daze, all the time feeling her eyes on him and he was still flustered' when he returned. "I've noticed you most of the afternoon business has finished now and I've shut up shop and sent my assistant home". She saw the immediate look of sheer misery on Paul's face and holding his arm again and, moving her fingers, said: "So you'll be able to come back with me with no-one else around I'm in no particular hurry to go home, and you can show me your rubber suit … don’t look so startled, I'm not naive, I felt it when I touched your arm - look this is filthy coffee, we'll have some proper stuff in the shop whilst we see if I've got what you are looking for".
She slipped her arm through his and almost mesmerised he let her lead him out, over the street and, once she had unlocked the door, into the shop. Paul shivered as she unlocked the door, pulled down the internal shutters and walked across to him. "Now lets introduce ourselves, I'm Wendy Hodges". "Paul Carter". "Right Paul, have a look around whilst I make coffee and then we can have a chat and you can tell me what you want".
She disappeared into a room at the back and Paul was drawn like a magnet to the floor length black rubber trench coat and matching cap, both lined with smooth scarlet rubber. He wandered around uncomfortable with his erection compressed by the unyielding saddle strap until he heard her say that the coffee was ready. Inside the room was chaos as she waved him to a chair: "Now, seen anything that you like"?
"Well, yes but … well mainly the long mackintosh and cape …" He went scarlet as she said they were nice and were very feminine and mumbled his agreement. Wendy sipped her coffee and asked: "Are you married"? Paul shook his head trying to steady his shaking hands as she went on. "I've been selling and making this stuff for almost ten years now. I'm probably almost twice your age so I know a bit about people. You're a T.V. aren't you with rubber and PVC?
God, Paul there's nothing to be ashamed of - I'm bi and I know quite literally dozens of LV's. Now off with your things and lets have a look at you". Blushing furiously Paul stripped off and stood, eyes fixed on the floor, in the tight black latex suit, corset and knickers. "Turn round, slowly, mm .., you've got a good figure but that corset can be tightened up quite a bit. Pull down your Knicks - good - a nice restraint too.
Now listen to me carefully Paul, do you trust me? "Yes - Yes I do". "Good. Now I don't know what you've got at home or if you have anything planned for tonight, but if you like you can leave this shop dressed as a very attractive young, woman and come home with me for supper, and you could stay the night; or you can just buy what you want and go back to your house or flat or whatever. What’s it to be?”
"But I couldn’t possibly afford to stay …" "Who said anything about paying a temporary loan and we can talk later about the details well?" Paul was blushing again "Yes, with you - with you please" "Good the loo's through there if you can spend a Penny like that, and I'll get a few things ready - don't be too long. Paul disappeared and when he came back Wendy told him to stand hands up against the wall.
He glanced at the clock and now he would have to pluck up courage soon. He almost dropped his cup when a hand squeezed his arm and, as he turned, his mouth opened and he blushed furiously at the woman on the adjacent stool who was looking at him quizzically. He could feel beads of perspiration start as he recognised her: the woman he had seen through the window of the shop immaculate in boots, a black leather skirt and matching tunic.
He stammered his apologies as she smiled and asked: "Aren't you going to ask if I'd like a coffee? Black - no sugar please", Paul got the coffee in a daze, all the time feeling her eyes on him and he was still flustered' when he returned. "I've noticed you most of the afternoon business has finished now and I've shut up shop and sent my assistant home". She saw the immediate look of sheer misery on Paul's face and holding his arm again and, moving her fingers, said: "So you'll be able to come back with me with no-one else around I'm in no particular hurry to go home, and you can show me your rubber suit … don’t look so startled, I'm not naive, I felt it when I touched your arm - look this is filthy coffee, we'll have some proper stuff in the shop whilst we see if I've got what you are looking for".
She slipped her arm through his and almost mesmerised he let her lead him out, over the street and, once she had unlocked the door, into the shop. Paul shivered as she unlocked the door, pulled down the internal shutters and walked across to him. "Now lets introduce ourselves, I'm Wendy Hodges". "Paul Carter". "Right Paul, have a look around whilst I make coffee and then we can have a chat and you can tell me what you want".
She disappeared into a room at the back and Paul was drawn like a magnet to the floor length black rubber trench coat and matching cap, both lined with smooth scarlet rubber. He wandered around uncomfortable with his erection compressed by the unyielding saddle strap until he heard her say that the coffee was ready. Inside the room was chaos as she waved him to a chair: "Now, seen anything that you like"?
"Well, yes but … well mainly the long mackintosh and cape …" He went scarlet as she said they were nice and were very feminine and mumbled his agreement. Wendy sipped her coffee and asked: "Are you married"? Paul shook his head trying to steady his shaking hands as she went on. "I've been selling and making this stuff for almost ten years now. I'm probably almost twice your age so I know a bit about people. You're a T.V. aren't you with rubber and PVC?
God, Paul there's nothing to be ashamed of - I'm bi and I know quite literally dozens of LV's. Now off with your things and lets have a look at you". Blushing furiously Paul stripped off and stood, eyes fixed on the floor, in the tight black latex suit, corset and knickers. "Turn round, slowly, mm .., you've got a good figure but that corset can be tightened up quite a bit. Pull down your Knicks - good - a nice restraint too.
Now listen to me carefully Paul, do you trust me? "Yes - Yes I do". "Good. Now I don't know what you've got at home or if you have anything planned for tonight, but if you like you can leave this shop dressed as a very attractive young, woman and come home with me for supper, and you could stay the night; or you can just buy what you want and go back to your house or flat or whatever. What’s it to be?”
"But I couldn’t possibly afford to stay …" "Who said anything about paying a temporary loan and we can talk later about the details well?" Paul was blushing again "Yes, with you - with you please" "Good the loo's through there if you can spend a Penny like that, and I'll get a few things ready - don't be too long. Paul disappeared and when he came back Wendy told him to stand hands up against the wall.
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY – WHEN BEDTIME ARRIVES HE IS TOO TIRED TO EVEN REMOVE HIS STOCKINGS AND BRA
My interest in "Slaverette Psychology" became active after I visited a girl-friend in the South. Ruth owns a few acres of cotton. She has a husband who is the 'play-boy' type. Well things reached a climax and Ruth had the goods on Jack. She wrote me and invited me down to visit her and in the letter told me that she had solved her problem.
I had an instructive visit and a most enjoyable one. I arrived in the middle of the afternoon and Ruth took me out to the cotton field and introduced me to her older sister who lived with her and was in charge of the cotton operation.
Ruth's older sister is a typical Amazon, but to get to the facts. In the hot sun with a large sack on his back was Jack picking cotton, and to top it all he was dressed in clubby work shoes (women's), black cotton stockings and a short cheap cotton dress.
When he leaned over in his work I noted that he had on cheap frilled cotton bloomers and I noted also his hose were held up by plain white elastic garters. His bra contained 'deceivers' and his hair had grown into a short bob. I noted that despite the hot, hard work he was made-up with rouge and lipstick.
When he paused in his work of picking cotton Ruth's sister, this up" as she called it with her riding crop and believe me she made him move fast. He must work during the cotton-picking season from sun-up to sundown. The rest of the year he slaves at all sorts of tasks and I mean he slaves. As Ruth told me: "Jackie has lost all desire to run around at night; when bedtime arrives he is quite ready to put on his coarse flannel gown and drop to his cot in the little room next to mine. Why he is too tired to even remove his stockings and bra!"
If each day he does not pick his quota of cotton or perform his assigned tasks completely and satisfactory he receives the riding crop before he puts on his nightgown. Ruth has many and varied punishments. I saw several administered, but one gave me much amusement. He talked back one morning upon arising and as a punishment he was made to work all day in a pair of old fashioned women's drawers! No dress, just the shoes, stockings, bra and very frilly old-fashioned drawers. To make him feel his punishment more Ruth invited her girl's "Chit-Chat Club" over and they witnessed 'Jackie' at his cotton picking. They got a kick out of it, especially when big sister tickled him with her riding crop as she did several times. How he danced in his frilled drawers to fine Amazon woman "perked him the tune of that vicious little whip!
Sunday is 'Meditation Day'. On this day he is dressed in Sunday clothing, lace and frills, and on Sunday afternoon the "Deportment Book" is checked and read to him, all faults and misbehavior noted and if the week's report is not up to par he receives the leather strap. For this he is placed over a barrel in the barn out back and well fastened: he is prepared and well strapped. I saw him get the strap and really, I assure you, it was complete and severe punishment!
His modesty was not spared and I heard a 'lordly male' beg, and yes, scream and cry for mercy with promises to do better and be a better Jackie. I intend to visit Ruth and her sister again and she is coming to visit me: you see I too had a problem and I, like Ruth, have solved mine, but that is another true story.
I had an instructive visit and a most enjoyable one. I arrived in the middle of the afternoon and Ruth took me out to the cotton field and introduced me to her older sister who lived with her and was in charge of the cotton operation.
Ruth's older sister is a typical Amazon, but to get to the facts. In the hot sun with a large sack on his back was Jack picking cotton, and to top it all he was dressed in clubby work shoes (women's), black cotton stockings and a short cheap cotton dress.
When he leaned over in his work I noted that he had on cheap frilled cotton bloomers and I noted also his hose were held up by plain white elastic garters. His bra contained 'deceivers' and his hair had grown into a short bob. I noted that despite the hot, hard work he was made-up with rouge and lipstick.
When he paused in his work of picking cotton Ruth's sister, this up" as she called it with her riding crop and believe me she made him move fast. He must work during the cotton-picking season from sun-up to sundown. The rest of the year he slaves at all sorts of tasks and I mean he slaves. As Ruth told me: "Jackie has lost all desire to run around at night; when bedtime arrives he is quite ready to put on his coarse flannel gown and drop to his cot in the little room next to mine. Why he is too tired to even remove his stockings and bra!"
If each day he does not pick his quota of cotton or perform his assigned tasks completely and satisfactory he receives the riding crop before he puts on his nightgown. Ruth has many and varied punishments. I saw several administered, but one gave me much amusement. He talked back one morning upon arising and as a punishment he was made to work all day in a pair of old fashioned women's drawers! No dress, just the shoes, stockings, bra and very frilly old-fashioned drawers. To make him feel his punishment more Ruth invited her girl's "Chit-Chat Club" over and they witnessed 'Jackie' at his cotton picking. They got a kick out of it, especially when big sister tickled him with her riding crop as she did several times. How he danced in his frilled drawers to fine Amazon woman "perked him the tune of that vicious little whip!
Sunday is 'Meditation Day'. On this day he is dressed in Sunday clothing, lace and frills, and on Sunday afternoon the "Deportment Book" is checked and read to him, all faults and misbehavior noted and if the week's report is not up to par he receives the leather strap. For this he is placed over a barrel in the barn out back and well fastened: he is prepared and well strapped. I saw him get the strap and really, I assure you, it was complete and severe punishment!
His modesty was not spared and I heard a 'lordly male' beg, and yes, scream and cry for mercy with promises to do better and be a better Jackie. I intend to visit Ruth and her sister again and she is coming to visit me: you see I too had a problem and I, like Ruth, have solved mine, but that is another true story.
FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY – LACED, CHAINED AND BLINDFOLDED
It all began with my wife getting the idea that she could possibly break me of my "habit" by giving me an overdose. She set about it with a vengeance. It was made simpler for her because I had just been laid off work due to poor business.
One morning I was happily surprised when Jane suggested I dress up. For once she gladly helped me. First, panties and bra were put on and padded appropriately, giving me proper breast and hips. Then she helped me into a body length corset. Since this wasn't tight enough around the waist she made me put on her waist cincher. She wanted me to suffer well.
With it on, my waist was laced from 29 inches to 22 inches. I thought I was going to die. Then she made me put on an old dress of hers. She tied this between my legs and had me put on her bright red jeans. She then ran a length of chain (an old dog leash) thru the loops around my waist. Using a small padlock she secured the chain to the puller on the zipper, of the jeans.
Dressed this way I couldn't undress even with my hands free. Since I couldn't bend over, Jane put the boots on me, she laced them up tight too. My hands were chained behind me and I was marched into the clothes closet where I was tied to the clothes bar. She tied my feet and knees together and gagged me.
Then she told me she was going out and would be go ne most of the day. But so that I wouldn't know when she had left and returned I was to be blindfolded and made deaf. She stuffed my ears with cotton (that she dipped in some kind of goo), padded my eyes with more cotton, wrapped a scarf over my eyes and ears, and over that she put on her bathing cap back wards. Then to top it all off she wrapped a 3-inch wide role of bandage around my head, leaving only my nostrils exposed, and secured it with a liberal supply of tape.
By the time she had finished my feet were on fire and my waist was aching terribly. Then I began to get worried. I doubted if I could last very long the way things were going. I tried to tell Jane. If she was still there the sounds I made must have sounded pretty silly to her. But they didn't have any effects. She left.
She later told me I was in there only an hour. It was hard to believe. Finally I felt her untie me from the bar. She then untied my feet and knees. I had, to be helped to the bed where I sat down. Out of kindness she loosened the cincher. But I stayed dressed. And my hands stayed chained behind me, and head stayed bandaged.
My feet were chained with enough slack for half a step and I had the run of the house. I stayed imprisoned for the rest of the day. You can imagine the shape I was in when I was finally released. Nature called with great in sistence, my mouth burned, and ached because of the nautilus, my stomach muscles wouldn't work, my back hurt, and my feet were numb.
Wow! boy did I have troubles. I didn't dress up for two months.
One morning I was happily surprised when Jane suggested I dress up. For once she gladly helped me. First, panties and bra were put on and padded appropriately, giving me proper breast and hips. Then she helped me into a body length corset. Since this wasn't tight enough around the waist she made me put on her waist cincher. She wanted me to suffer well.
With it on, my waist was laced from 29 inches to 22 inches. I thought I was going to die. Then she made me put on an old dress of hers. She tied this between my legs and had me put on her bright red jeans. She then ran a length of chain (an old dog leash) thru the loops around my waist. Using a small padlock she secured the chain to the puller on the zipper, of the jeans.
Dressed this way I couldn't undress even with my hands free. Since I couldn't bend over, Jane put the boots on me, she laced them up tight too. My hands were chained behind me and I was marched into the clothes closet where I was tied to the clothes bar. She tied my feet and knees together and gagged me.
Then she told me she was going out and would be go ne most of the day. But so that I wouldn't know when she had left and returned I was to be blindfolded and made deaf. She stuffed my ears with cotton (that she dipped in some kind of goo), padded my eyes with more cotton, wrapped a scarf over my eyes and ears, and over that she put on her bathing cap back wards. Then to top it all off she wrapped a 3-inch wide role of bandage around my head, leaving only my nostrils exposed, and secured it with a liberal supply of tape.
By the time she had finished my feet were on fire and my waist was aching terribly. Then I began to get worried. I doubted if I could last very long the way things were going. I tried to tell Jane. If she was still there the sounds I made must have sounded pretty silly to her. But they didn't have any effects. She left.
She later told me I was in there only an hour. It was hard to believe. Finally I felt her untie me from the bar. She then untied my feet and knees. I had, to be helped to the bed where I sat down. Out of kindness she loosened the cincher. But I stayed dressed. And my hands stayed chained behind me, and head stayed bandaged.
My feet were chained with enough slack for half a step and I had the run of the house. I stayed imprisoned for the rest of the day. You can imagine the shape I was in when I was finally released. Nature called with great in sistence, my mouth burned, and ached because of the nautilus, my stomach muscles wouldn't work, my back hurt, and my feet were numb.
Wow! boy did I have troubles. I didn't dress up for two months.
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY – I SLAPPED HIM VISCIOUSLY UNTIL HE BEGGED ME TO STOP
I am twenty-nine, a dashing (they tell me) brunette with blue eyes, five-four in my size five ballerinas, and one-hundred-twelve, with the curves all smooth and proper. I know I have sex appeal because I get a fine response from both sexes when traveling with no visible luxuries other than my God-given, beauty parlor enhanced ones.
I spank my present twenty-two year old husband whenever I choose, and I make him wait on me hand-and-foot at home or in private. He dresses as I tell him and he looks fine in ballet slippers: pink leotards, with earrings and lipstick and eye-shadow.
He was a chorus boy before I met him at a party – and now he is my private "chorus-boy". I like to tie his hands behind his back, blindfold him and make him dance to the tune of my riding crop. When he objects at all to any of my orders I often make him lie down and kiss the soles of my feet while I really whip him but good.
Once I made him dress me completely to go out and then tied him securely to the toilet where I left him over night. On my return he was indignant and demanded to know where I had been. I slapped him viciously until he begged me to stop, after which I let him kiss my feet and both hands and then stuffed his mouth with cotton, taped it in, and there he sat all day.
When I released him that evening, I kissed his face (which was slightly bruised) and had him join me in the oversized shower where I let him bathe me completely. He has never crossed me since, nor have I ever left him so long, at least not with out staying near.
His stepsister from New York came to visit us last spring, and she turned out to be a big, gorgeous blonde, with creamy complexion and a lot of spirit. I learned that she got a kick out of the unusual and that she had always felt that her brother had received all the favors at home. She enjoyed herself thoroughly when I made "Jackie" wait on her too – and when I asked her to come in and whip him in my place after a complaint from him – did she love it.
She got in the spirit of the thing at my suggestion and he was made to crawl to her, beg her forgiveness for ever having been the favored child – well, she got a pedicure out of it and his hind end got another touch of my riding crop in very spirited hands. After that, to prove I was boss I had him licking my feet until she went to her own room.
Jackie was burned – so what? – I love him, he worships me … nothing wrong with that.
I spank my present twenty-two year old husband whenever I choose, and I make him wait on me hand-and-foot at home or in private. He dresses as I tell him and he looks fine in ballet slippers: pink leotards, with earrings and lipstick and eye-shadow.
He was a chorus boy before I met him at a party – and now he is my private "chorus-boy". I like to tie his hands behind his back, blindfold him and make him dance to the tune of my riding crop. When he objects at all to any of my orders I often make him lie down and kiss the soles of my feet while I really whip him but good.
Once I made him dress me completely to go out and then tied him securely to the toilet where I left him over night. On my return he was indignant and demanded to know where I had been. I slapped him viciously until he begged me to stop, after which I let him kiss my feet and both hands and then stuffed his mouth with cotton, taped it in, and there he sat all day.
When I released him that evening, I kissed his face (which was slightly bruised) and had him join me in the oversized shower where I let him bathe me completely. He has never crossed me since, nor have I ever left him so long, at least not with out staying near.
His stepsister from New York came to visit us last spring, and she turned out to be a big, gorgeous blonde, with creamy complexion and a lot of spirit. I learned that she got a kick out of the unusual and that she had always felt that her brother had received all the favors at home. She enjoyed herself thoroughly when I made "Jackie" wait on her too – and when I asked her to come in and whip him in my place after a complaint from him – did she love it.
She got in the spirit of the thing at my suggestion and he was made to crawl to her, beg her forgiveness for ever having been the favored child – well, she got a pedicure out of it and his hind end got another touch of my riding crop in very spirited hands. After that, to prove I was boss I had him licking my feet until she went to her own room.
Jackie was burned – so what? – I love him, he worships me … nothing wrong with that.
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY – OPERATION DISCIPLINE
I was a WAC major during the war and a good, respected officer. I have always been just a bit on the masculine side that is in my clothing and actions. I have a name that is also given boys; I guess that helped me in my war work. I am strictly feminine in all other ways. I just like to be obeyed.
When I came out of the service I married a fellow 7 years younger than myself. His mother told me when I married him "he is a spoiled brat". He was, but I soon changed that. Via certain legal actions that I haven't room for here, I let him know that he is completely in my charge.
From Friday after work until Monday morning he is my "House Girl" and I mean he gets K.P. and all. I call this weekend training "Operation Discipline." He must address me at all time on these weekends as "Sir" and "Major". He must follow strict military rules at all times and must learn them all. He got out of the war by getting strings pulled etc., and he is going to get some now, (so me good old strict WAC training).
Only his "uniforms" are much more feminine than the WAC uniform. He wears the long net opera length hose held up by the garter belt, a large hair ribbon in his hair, and is made up " fit to kill" (as a WAC sergeant said!) He wears large "falsies" under his bra, and no slip. The panties are the short skin-tight dainty lace trimmed bloomers that one sees on a "Cigarette-Girl", and his little short dress is of white silk just like the bloomers. The dress is ruffled, of course.
Oh, I have "changes" and I have my ideas as to "punishment clothing" just like "Babs" and the others. He wears high-heeled slippers, and I keep handy at all times a short leather riding-whip. Today I had several of my sister officers in for a few cocktails and a general visit.
As soon as we girls were seated as per his training my "Gertie" entered the room, he came over to my chair and made a deep curtsy (I am surprised that more "Slaverettes", or that none have mentioned this – my advice to ALL "Slaverettes" is: train your "Maid" "House Girl" or what have you to CURTSY, this helps keep him in his place and aids the "Beneficia Humiliation" as Elsa calls it') Well, he made his curtsy and was ordered to turn around and let the girls see him, (he has those long pretty legs).
I had to sting him with my whip several times about the thighs. Of course very much activity and the little bloomers show. I ordered him to tell the girls what was going to happen in the afternoon after they left. He hesitated but one look from me changed his mind. With blushes he said: "This afternoon I will stand in the 'punishment corner' for an hour and think about the plate that I broke this morning, then my superior officer will take me by the arm into the bedroom where I will receive an old fashioned spanking, next I will be undressed and my "shortie gown" will be put on me. I will be put to bed like a naughty house girl, and later on in the evening I will be sent to cut a switch out in the back yard. My major will switch me soundly with gown lifted and I will again be put to bed."
I asked him; "do you deserve to be punished 'Gertie'? (With deep blushes) "Yes Sir, my dear major, I do deserve to be soundly punished." He waits on us during the party and blushes all the time, my fellow officers are all going to be "Slaverettes" when they marry.
Well my "Operation Discipline" is a success, my "Gertie" obeys well and is a regular slave – his training is doing him good. Like others I use different methods of punishment. I use the switch, riding whip, hairbrush, razor strap and my palm. Let me insert a little psychological advice. Many times, especially when women friends are about and your "maid" etc. displeases you and you wish to cause deep humiliation, take him to the bedroom and with windows left up and the door ajar so that nothing hinders the sound; give the naughty darling a good old fashioned smacking on his bare backsides, make it long and make it loud. After this stinging "prolonged spanking" make him go out and face the guests.
When I was a girl I remember how effective this method was as far as I was concerned! I just pass all this advice on to other " Slaverettes", you see I hope that all "psychological" warfare" of this sort gets around so that maybe someday we can have – "The Great Revolt" – FOR REAL!
Later on I will tell you about some of my methods of punishment as regards types of clothing I put him into and several of my friends wish to send in articles and letters also. One friend of mine will later tell you how she cleared up a lot of trouble by keeping a strap under her pillow; she now has a "GOOD" husband!
There is so much but let's wait until another time as I have written so much already this bright Sunday. MY 'Ger tie' is now waiting for me. I will say "as you were" and go to the bedroom and soon a certain "House Girl" by the name of "Gertie" – (Private ZERO class) will really "Sound Off" and HOW!
When I came out of the service I married a fellow 7 years younger than myself. His mother told me when I married him "he is a spoiled brat". He was, but I soon changed that. Via certain legal actions that I haven't room for here, I let him know that he is completely in my charge.
From Friday after work until Monday morning he is my "House Girl" and I mean he gets K.P. and all. I call this weekend training "Operation Discipline." He must address me at all time on these weekends as "Sir" and "Major". He must follow strict military rules at all times and must learn them all. He got out of the war by getting strings pulled etc., and he is going to get some now, (so me good old strict WAC training).
Only his "uniforms" are much more feminine than the WAC uniform. He wears the long net opera length hose held up by the garter belt, a large hair ribbon in his hair, and is made up " fit to kill" (as a WAC sergeant said!) He wears large "falsies" under his bra, and no slip. The panties are the short skin-tight dainty lace trimmed bloomers that one sees on a "Cigarette-Girl", and his little short dress is of white silk just like the bloomers. The dress is ruffled, of course.
Oh, I have "changes" and I have my ideas as to "punishment clothing" just like "Babs" and the others. He wears high-heeled slippers, and I keep handy at all times a short leather riding-whip. Today I had several of my sister officers in for a few cocktails and a general visit.
As soon as we girls were seated as per his training my "Gertie" entered the room, he came over to my chair and made a deep curtsy (I am surprised that more "Slaverettes", or that none have mentioned this – my advice to ALL "Slaverettes" is: train your "Maid" "House Girl" or what have you to CURTSY, this helps keep him in his place and aids the "Beneficia Humiliation" as Elsa calls it') Well, he made his curtsy and was ordered to turn around and let the girls see him, (he has those long pretty legs).
I had to sting him with my whip several times about the thighs. Of course very much activity and the little bloomers show. I ordered him to tell the girls what was going to happen in the afternoon after they left. He hesitated but one look from me changed his mind. With blushes he said: "This afternoon I will stand in the 'punishment corner' for an hour and think about the plate that I broke this morning, then my superior officer will take me by the arm into the bedroom where I will receive an old fashioned spanking, next I will be undressed and my "shortie gown" will be put on me. I will be put to bed like a naughty house girl, and later on in the evening I will be sent to cut a switch out in the back yard. My major will switch me soundly with gown lifted and I will again be put to bed."
I asked him; "do you deserve to be punished 'Gertie'? (With deep blushes) "Yes Sir, my dear major, I do deserve to be soundly punished." He waits on us during the party and blushes all the time, my fellow officers are all going to be "Slaverettes" when they marry.
Well my "Operation Discipline" is a success, my "Gertie" obeys well and is a regular slave – his training is doing him good. Like others I use different methods of punishment. I use the switch, riding whip, hairbrush, razor strap and my palm. Let me insert a little psychological advice. Many times, especially when women friends are about and your "maid" etc. displeases you and you wish to cause deep humiliation, take him to the bedroom and with windows left up and the door ajar so that nothing hinders the sound; give the naughty darling a good old fashioned smacking on his bare backsides, make it long and make it loud. After this stinging "prolonged spanking" make him go out and face the guests.
When I was a girl I remember how effective this method was as far as I was concerned! I just pass all this advice on to other " Slaverettes", you see I hope that all "psychological" warfare" of this sort gets around so that maybe someday we can have – "The Great Revolt" – FOR REAL!
Later on I will tell you about some of my methods of punishment as regards types of clothing I put him into and several of my friends wish to send in articles and letters also. One friend of mine will later tell you how she cleared up a lot of trouble by keeping a strap under her pillow; she now has a "GOOD" husband!
There is so much but let's wait until another time as I have written so much already this bright Sunday. MY 'Ger tie' is now waiting for me. I will say "as you were" and go to the bedroom and soon a certain "House Girl" by the name of "Gertie" – (Private ZERO class) will really "Sound Off" and HOW!
FRIENDLY FEMINIZATION STORY – THE "CHANGE-OVER" EVENING
An argument sprang up at the club as to who could achieve the best changeover impersonation, men or women, and, as a result, there was a general challenge thrown out to the members to prove their word. It was agreed that we should hold two special sessions, in one of which all the girls should come dressed as fellows and all the men should be in the guise of girls, while in the other session a change-over love scene should be enacted by the best "girl" and the best "boy".
Maurice, who makes quite a pretty girl, and I often have fun changing over at home. In deed, it was at a fancy-dress dance, where we were both masquerading as members of the opposite sex, that we first got, to know each other.
The "change-over" evening was a huge piece of fun, and, in view of the competitive nature of the party, in which everyone seemed to be trying to outdo everyone else; there were many good impersonations on both sides. The girls made handsome boys, though there was no doubt from the start about who would be the girls' representative in the love scene, for Adele looked so boyish, with her short hair brushed back and her borrowed suit fitting her so well. She walked with an unexaggerated manly stride, talked in a deep voice and even looked at home with a pipe! But you should have seen the "girls"!
Bewigged, made-up, tightly-laced, clad in dainty frocks, shoes and gloves, they tripped lightly about on their high heels, sipping small drinks instead of their usual pints and affecting girlish gestures. As the evening wore on, we were amused to see the "girls" groping for non-existent pockets, trying to ease their by then tortured waists, sitting most immodestly with nylon-clad limbs fully revealed or patting their "bosoms" back into place, where too-ardent "male" attention in a darkened alcove had caused things to go awry!
More than one "girl" was called upon to demonstrate the extent of the girlish underneath’s being worn, much to the amusement and sometimes admiration of the others present , while the very dominating half of one couple insisted on frequently pulling up "his" partner's frock to test that the suspenders were not too tight.
A highlight of the evening was the leg competition. In this, all the "girls" were lined up behind a sheet hanging down from the ceiling to about the level of the waist. In order not to reveal too quickly their identity, they had to pull up their frocks out of sight behind the sheet, and then stand close to the sheet, while the "boys" on the other side judged which pair of legs was the prettiest. Naturally, their legs were completely visible and also their undies.
Actually their appearance undoubtedly represented their preference, and the results were interesting. Only one had his nylons rolled above the knee, while three showed a liking for opera-lengths: two used chic garters, while the others wore beribboned suspenders and one had both saucy rosetted garters and half-a-dozen short suspenders for his full-length sheer nylons; two wore close-fitting panties, two filmy nylon and lacy cami-knickers over brief, skin-tight slips, while the undies of the others were typical, wide-legged, French knickers. What fun we had judging their legs, affecting to measure them, but in reality naughtily caressing them to make the owners tremble.
Maurice, who was able to wear a higher heel than most, was the winner, and, to our amusement, someone cut the supporting string and brought down the sheet before the competitors could drop their frocks into a more decorous position. The prize was a chic pair of diamante garters, and needless to say everyone clamored for them to be put on then and there by Adele. With a show of gallantry, she handed Maurice up on to a table, where he stood smiling down at the others, as he slowly pulled up his frock to his hips, revealing once again his shapely legs sheathed in opera-length nylons, topped by the lacy legs of the georgette cami-knickers he prefers.
Then amid applause he held each leg forward in turn, amusing us all by his pretended (or was it?) trembling as Adele caressingly slipped the garter right up to the top of his leg. After a brief pose with the garters in place, Maurice dropped his skirts and prepared to step down.
But now came a surprise for him, for Adele reached up, took him by his slender waist and lightly swung him to the ground, planting a kiss on his painted lips as she did so. We all knew Adele was strong, but we didn't know she was that strong! It augured well for the girls' representative in the scene to be enacted on another evening. Maurice was chosen as the "girl" of the evening, and next time I'll have to tell you how he got on with Adele.
Suffice it to say for now that he took the whole affair very seriously and went into strict training, with my help. The intervening fortnight was spent in extra tight-lacing every evening, while he wore a light corset to work under his male clothes. Also at home he got used to shoes with even higher heels. Fortunately Maurice and I are much of a size, and he ran through my wardrobe, trying on everything in the evenings, always making up, and using his wig and jewelry.
Had any stranger visited me then, he could not have thought other than that my chic companion was a pretty girl. In deed, at times he would have found Maurice alluringly fetching, for he would sit about in a loose wrap over his figure-fitting cami-knickers and sheer nylons.
Maurice, who makes quite a pretty girl, and I often have fun changing over at home. In deed, it was at a fancy-dress dance, where we were both masquerading as members of the opposite sex, that we first got, to know each other.
The "change-over" evening was a huge piece of fun, and, in view of the competitive nature of the party, in which everyone seemed to be trying to outdo everyone else; there were many good impersonations on both sides. The girls made handsome boys, though there was no doubt from the start about who would be the girls' representative in the love scene, for Adele looked so boyish, with her short hair brushed back and her borrowed suit fitting her so well. She walked with an unexaggerated manly stride, talked in a deep voice and even looked at home with a pipe! But you should have seen the "girls"!
Bewigged, made-up, tightly-laced, clad in dainty frocks, shoes and gloves, they tripped lightly about on their high heels, sipping small drinks instead of their usual pints and affecting girlish gestures. As the evening wore on, we were amused to see the "girls" groping for non-existent pockets, trying to ease their by then tortured waists, sitting most immodestly with nylon-clad limbs fully revealed or patting their "bosoms" back into place, where too-ardent "male" attention in a darkened alcove had caused things to go awry!
More than one "girl" was called upon to demonstrate the extent of the girlish underneath’s being worn, much to the amusement and sometimes admiration of the others present , while the very dominating half of one couple insisted on frequently pulling up "his" partner's frock to test that the suspenders were not too tight.
A highlight of the evening was the leg competition. In this, all the "girls" were lined up behind a sheet hanging down from the ceiling to about the level of the waist. In order not to reveal too quickly their identity, they had to pull up their frocks out of sight behind the sheet, and then stand close to the sheet, while the "boys" on the other side judged which pair of legs was the prettiest. Naturally, their legs were completely visible and also their undies.
Actually their appearance undoubtedly represented their preference, and the results were interesting. Only one had his nylons rolled above the knee, while three showed a liking for opera-lengths: two used chic garters, while the others wore beribboned suspenders and one had both saucy rosetted garters and half-a-dozen short suspenders for his full-length sheer nylons; two wore close-fitting panties, two filmy nylon and lacy cami-knickers over brief, skin-tight slips, while the undies of the others were typical, wide-legged, French knickers. What fun we had judging their legs, affecting to measure them, but in reality naughtily caressing them to make the owners tremble.
Maurice, who was able to wear a higher heel than most, was the winner, and, to our amusement, someone cut the supporting string and brought down the sheet before the competitors could drop their frocks into a more decorous position. The prize was a chic pair of diamante garters, and needless to say everyone clamored for them to be put on then and there by Adele. With a show of gallantry, she handed Maurice up on to a table, where he stood smiling down at the others, as he slowly pulled up his frock to his hips, revealing once again his shapely legs sheathed in opera-length nylons, topped by the lacy legs of the georgette cami-knickers he prefers.
Then amid applause he held each leg forward in turn, amusing us all by his pretended (or was it?) trembling as Adele caressingly slipped the garter right up to the top of his leg. After a brief pose with the garters in place, Maurice dropped his skirts and prepared to step down.
But now came a surprise for him, for Adele reached up, took him by his slender waist and lightly swung him to the ground, planting a kiss on his painted lips as she did so. We all knew Adele was strong, but we didn't know she was that strong! It augured well for the girls' representative in the scene to be enacted on another evening. Maurice was chosen as the "girl" of the evening, and next time I'll have to tell you how he got on with Adele.
Suffice it to say for now that he took the whole affair very seriously and went into strict training, with my help. The intervening fortnight was spent in extra tight-lacing every evening, while he wore a light corset to work under his male clothes. Also at home he got used to shoes with even higher heels. Fortunately Maurice and I are much of a size, and he ran through my wardrobe, trying on everything in the evenings, always making up, and using his wig and jewelry.
Had any stranger visited me then, he could not have thought other than that my chic companion was a pretty girl. In deed, at times he would have found Maurice alluringly fetching, for he would sit about in a loose wrap over his figure-fitting cami-knickers and sheer nylons.
FORCED FEMINIZATION STORY – MAYBE HE TOO WOULD FIND PLEASURE IN WEARING A RUBBER GIRDLE
Approximately a year ago my husband gave me a rubber panty girdle for Christmas. I took a liking to it, wore it rather frequently, but other than that never thought much about the significance of my girdle. Several months later I happened to notice on occasion my husband watching me very closely as I slipped into my rubber girdle, and twice saw him gloating upon ads in Life magazine of a woman modeling a rubber girdle.
I then decided that maybe he too would find pleasure in wearing a rubber girdle. At that time I' started my plans. Since the ratio of his waist and hip measurements were slightly on the feminine side, I had always wanted to see, for the fun of it, what he would look like dressed as a woman.
Although my husband is slightly shorter and lighter than me, I was afraid that I couldn't completely control him should he resist my plan. Since my unmarried Sister lived on the third floor of our home, I let her in on my ideas, which she thought would be a lot of fun to try out.
My plan was not only to put a rubber girdle on him, but also to don him completely in rubber from head to foot with the exception of his shoes. Within a week we located a supplier of very thin amber colored rubber, and bought five or six yards of the material. My Sister fashioned, with the rubber, a gorgeous peasant type of blouse, which had large billowy sleeves and was tight fitting around the waist. I made up a long tight fitting rubber sheath skirt that measured only ten inches across the bottom, which almost was ankle length. I made this skirt a little small so that it would fit with extreme tightness throughout its entire length. I then purchased from a local department store a small size rubber panty girdle, a pair of shiny black patent leather shoes with 4-inch heels and a patent leather belt for my husband, and a shiny black rubber bathing cap.
The following Saturday morning while my husband was sleeping late, my sister and I sneaked into his room with the rubber girdle, cap, and a length of rope. Simultaneously we both grabbed him then tied his hands behind him and put the bathing cap on backwards so as to cover up his eyes, in fact most of his head.
To say the least, he hardly knew what had happened. Practically before he realized it, we had pulled off his pajama pants and slipped on to him the rubber panty girdle. Then we tied his feet and hands to the corners of our four-poster bed.
I then asked him how he enjoyed the feeling of a rubber girdle next to his skin. At first he made no comment, but after lying there for half an hour or so finally confessed. He admitted that he enjoyed the coolness of the girdle as we put it on him, and now was enjoying the thrilling tightness of the rubber girdle next to his skin.
Before we released him he had to promise to do what we said, and not to touch the bathing cap, which was still secured over his head. We then untied his hands and pulled the rubber blouse over his head, and then tied his hands again. The next garment to go on was the sleek, tight fitting rubber sheath skirt, which fit amazingly well. The high heel shoes came next and to complete the outfit the 4 inch wide black patent leather belt which I tightened as much as possible.
With hi s hands still tied, we helped him stand up and then had him tiptoe around the bedroom so we could admire his outfit. I must say, he looked simply adorable in his rubber outfit. Due to the thinness and tightness of the skirt, it was possible to see through to his rubber panty girdle, which made the get up quite exciting. I called him my "Prince in Rubber."
Shortly afterwards my sister left since my husband was now fully under control. Finally, I had to untie his hands. To my surprise as soon as I did this, he reached out and literally threw his arms around me. He said that he was practically speechless because of the thrilling experience we had just put him through. He said that he thoroughly enjoyed the cool smooth feeling of the rubber girdle and the overall feeling of sleekness and tightness that the entire outfit gave to him. He then told me how happy he was that I had discovered and appreciated his fondness for rubber garments.
I then decided that maybe he too would find pleasure in wearing a rubber girdle. At that time I' started my plans. Since the ratio of his waist and hip measurements were slightly on the feminine side, I had always wanted to see, for the fun of it, what he would look like dressed as a woman.
Although my husband is slightly shorter and lighter than me, I was afraid that I couldn't completely control him should he resist my plan. Since my unmarried Sister lived on the third floor of our home, I let her in on my ideas, which she thought would be a lot of fun to try out.
My plan was not only to put a rubber girdle on him, but also to don him completely in rubber from head to foot with the exception of his shoes. Within a week we located a supplier of very thin amber colored rubber, and bought five or six yards of the material. My Sister fashioned, with the rubber, a gorgeous peasant type of blouse, which had large billowy sleeves and was tight fitting around the waist. I made up a long tight fitting rubber sheath skirt that measured only ten inches across the bottom, which almost was ankle length. I made this skirt a little small so that it would fit with extreme tightness throughout its entire length. I then purchased from a local department store a small size rubber panty girdle, a pair of shiny black patent leather shoes with 4-inch heels and a patent leather belt for my husband, and a shiny black rubber bathing cap.
The following Saturday morning while my husband was sleeping late, my sister and I sneaked into his room with the rubber girdle, cap, and a length of rope. Simultaneously we both grabbed him then tied his hands behind him and put the bathing cap on backwards so as to cover up his eyes, in fact most of his head.
To say the least, he hardly knew what had happened. Practically before he realized it, we had pulled off his pajama pants and slipped on to him the rubber panty girdle. Then we tied his feet and hands to the corners of our four-poster bed.
I then asked him how he enjoyed the feeling of a rubber girdle next to his skin. At first he made no comment, but after lying there for half an hour or so finally confessed. He admitted that he enjoyed the coolness of the girdle as we put it on him, and now was enjoying the thrilling tightness of the rubber girdle next to his skin.
Before we released him he had to promise to do what we said, and not to touch the bathing cap, which was still secured over his head. We then untied his hands and pulled the rubber blouse over his head, and then tied his hands again. The next garment to go on was the sleek, tight fitting rubber sheath skirt, which fit amazingly well. The high heel shoes came next and to complete the outfit the 4 inch wide black patent leather belt which I tightened as much as possible.
With hi s hands still tied, we helped him stand up and then had him tiptoe around the bedroom so we could admire his outfit. I must say, he looked simply adorable in his rubber outfit. Due to the thinness and tightness of the skirt, it was possible to see through to his rubber panty girdle, which made the get up quite exciting. I called him my "Prince in Rubber."
Shortly afterwards my sister left since my husband was now fully under control. Finally, I had to untie his hands. To my surprise as soon as I did this, he reached out and literally threw his arms around me. He said that he was practically speechless because of the thrilling experience we had just put him through. He said that he thoroughly enjoyed the cool smooth feeling of the rubber girdle and the overall feeling of sleekness and tightness that the entire outfit gave to him. He then told me how happy he was that I had discovered and appreciated his fondness for rubber garments.
FEMINIZATION FASHION STORY - IT MAKE ME FEEL TERRIBLE SELFCONSCIOUS AND SLAVE LIKE
In corsets I favor the short but very tightly laced-in short style, enough to cover and hold in my hips and support my bust well above the corset, for I am not of the school that believes a woman's glorious bust should be squeezed into nasty un-natural shaped brassieres which are part of the corset itself. I favor my soft kid brassieres above the corset.
But more of the corset itself, all mine are of the softest kid like my footwear, rather stiffly boned to a shape and cut that I must force my body to accept and follow when completely laced together. I said together because I do not admire the easily laced corset, which does not allow its fullest shape and beauty to be kept.
Opposite to lacing the long style corset, a slow long gradual lacing in is not called for, the short lacing corset can be very quickly drawn in and closed, though I must admit I do at first have to hold my breath from the extreme suddenness of the tightening in. Again I lie upon a perfectly flat soft couch whilst either my maid or fiancé pulls me together.
To the couch are attached two wide leather straps, which are buckled across my thighs and upper waistline and pulled tightly firm. In this position my relaxed body has no tendency to lift with the firm pulling which I must Alas! Undergo during the lacing. The feeling is odd at first, quickly my waist is squeezed in feeling as though I should be cut in two halves, then after a few moments I feel my thighs get a little numb at first, and these two sensations in some way that is always odd to me, completely take away the sensation I have at the small nipped in waist.
But oh, horrors, when those lacing in hands return to that already small waist I lose all sensations around my waist, as the laces now the more easily drag my waist into its stupidly tiny dimensions. This process I describe happens in three separate ordeals, before finally and almost unable to breathe, I am just aware of that final waist fastening and the knots being secured and knotted.
Before I was properly trained for such tight lacing my fiancé used a contrivance made of two inch deep brass strip which having been placed round the corset before it was finally laced up, could be screwed tighter and tighter round the actual loose corseted waist, thus pulling it In sufficiently for the corsets to be more easily laced to that dimension, after which sometimes the brass belt for lacing was finally removed, allowing me a queer sensation of my body being suddenly left to itself to expand into the tightly laced in corset. Though drawn into 22 or 21 inches believe me dears I hadn't much expanding left to do.
All my short severe corsets are back lacing with steel busks down their fronts about two and a half inches wide. Fastened together, at the front bottom end of the corset to take the strain, was a small leather strap and buckle to finally close the lower ends of the corset.
At first when I was being made accustomed to such severe corsets I fainted off once or twice during lacing, but was quickly revived with smelling salts and made to face up to my discomfort. Since those awful days of my training I have of course become quite an inveterate tight lacer and would feel simply awful in anything slacker, in fact I do often sleep reasonable tightly laced in special satin sleeping corsets of black satin with nice frilly-laced tops and bottoms.
Over all my outward dresses and attire I like to have the full effects of a corseted figure shown off to advantage, and for that favor the well tightened leather belt with one or more strong little buckles that can be easily diminished hole by hole.
My gloves hardly seem worthy of mention, being so comfortable in comparison with my other favorite fashions that please my fiancé. All gloves that I wear must be "full length, or what is known as thirty button, sometimes twenty four button, never lower, this doesn't mean actually buttoning, but that they reach the round of the shoulders as you probably know already. My arms have of course to be heavily powdered before easing these softest kidskins along the entire length of the arms. Gradually from fingertips to wrists they are eased up and buttoned, then slowly I have to ease up the rest of the long glove, inch at a time, tightly over the shaped elbows and so on to the shoulders.
I have gotten over the usual complaint of shoulder high gloves being too ample. The last six inches of my gloves are fashioned smaller and opened, with eight tiny neat lacing eyelets, and are laced with the arms fully stretched out with fine silk laces. These tighten the forearm of the glove, and have the advantage of biting into the soft fleshy part of the upper arm, thus preventing any vestige of slipping afterwards. I loathe seeing a woman's kid gloves slipping baggily around her forearm.
All my rings and bracelets I wear over and outside the glove itself, a somewhat unusual barbaric idea of my own. Once I saw a photo of many steel shackles or handcuffs, which makes me relate to you that I have a pair of solid silver handcuffs with detachable chains, and wear each handcuff separately locked to my small gloved wrists, when I dine out at a fashionable restaurant. Wearing them, at a fancy dress party some time ago in Milan my fiancé made me wear them with the little connecting chains in place, making me feel terribly self conscious and slave like with him as an escort.
But more of the corset itself, all mine are of the softest kid like my footwear, rather stiffly boned to a shape and cut that I must force my body to accept and follow when completely laced together. I said together because I do not admire the easily laced corset, which does not allow its fullest shape and beauty to be kept.
Opposite to lacing the long style corset, a slow long gradual lacing in is not called for, the short lacing corset can be very quickly drawn in and closed, though I must admit I do at first have to hold my breath from the extreme suddenness of the tightening in. Again I lie upon a perfectly flat soft couch whilst either my maid or fiancé pulls me together.
To the couch are attached two wide leather straps, which are buckled across my thighs and upper waistline and pulled tightly firm. In this position my relaxed body has no tendency to lift with the firm pulling which I must Alas! Undergo during the lacing. The feeling is odd at first, quickly my waist is squeezed in feeling as though I should be cut in two halves, then after a few moments I feel my thighs get a little numb at first, and these two sensations in some way that is always odd to me, completely take away the sensation I have at the small nipped in waist.
But oh, horrors, when those lacing in hands return to that already small waist I lose all sensations around my waist, as the laces now the more easily drag my waist into its stupidly tiny dimensions. This process I describe happens in three separate ordeals, before finally and almost unable to breathe, I am just aware of that final waist fastening and the knots being secured and knotted.
Before I was properly trained for such tight lacing my fiancé used a contrivance made of two inch deep brass strip which having been placed round the corset before it was finally laced up, could be screwed tighter and tighter round the actual loose corseted waist, thus pulling it In sufficiently for the corsets to be more easily laced to that dimension, after which sometimes the brass belt for lacing was finally removed, allowing me a queer sensation of my body being suddenly left to itself to expand into the tightly laced in corset. Though drawn into 22 or 21 inches believe me dears I hadn't much expanding left to do.
All my short severe corsets are back lacing with steel busks down their fronts about two and a half inches wide. Fastened together, at the front bottom end of the corset to take the strain, was a small leather strap and buckle to finally close the lower ends of the corset.
At first when I was being made accustomed to such severe corsets I fainted off once or twice during lacing, but was quickly revived with smelling salts and made to face up to my discomfort. Since those awful days of my training I have of course become quite an inveterate tight lacer and would feel simply awful in anything slacker, in fact I do often sleep reasonable tightly laced in special satin sleeping corsets of black satin with nice frilly-laced tops and bottoms.
Over all my outward dresses and attire I like to have the full effects of a corseted figure shown off to advantage, and for that favor the well tightened leather belt with one or more strong little buckles that can be easily diminished hole by hole.
My gloves hardly seem worthy of mention, being so comfortable in comparison with my other favorite fashions that please my fiancé. All gloves that I wear must be "full length, or what is known as thirty button, sometimes twenty four button, never lower, this doesn't mean actually buttoning, but that they reach the round of the shoulders as you probably know already. My arms have of course to be heavily powdered before easing these softest kidskins along the entire length of the arms. Gradually from fingertips to wrists they are eased up and buttoned, then slowly I have to ease up the rest of the long glove, inch at a time, tightly over the shaped elbows and so on to the shoulders.
I have gotten over the usual complaint of shoulder high gloves being too ample. The last six inches of my gloves are fashioned smaller and opened, with eight tiny neat lacing eyelets, and are laced with the arms fully stretched out with fine silk laces. These tighten the forearm of the glove, and have the advantage of biting into the soft fleshy part of the upper arm, thus preventing any vestige of slipping afterwards. I loathe seeing a woman's kid gloves slipping baggily around her forearm.
All my rings and bracelets I wear over and outside the glove itself, a somewhat unusual barbaric idea of my own. Once I saw a photo of many steel shackles or handcuffs, which makes me relate to you that I have a pair of solid silver handcuffs with detachable chains, and wear each handcuff separately locked to my small gloved wrists, when I dine out at a fashionable restaurant. Wearing them, at a fancy dress party some time ago in Milan my fiancé made me wear them with the little connecting chains in place, making me feel terribly self conscious and slave like with him as an escort.
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