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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
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Subject: {ASSM} Tiny Tim by Vickie Tern 5/9 TG Femdom F/m M/M wife
Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 15:10:03 -0400
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New TG: Tiny Tim by Vickie Tern, 5/9 femdom, F/m, M/M, wife
v.
I remember only a few things from the next few hours. Sitting
under a dryer somewhere with my hair so tightly bound up in rollers
that my scalp hurt, even though I knew that beauty knows no pain.
The scent of perfumed hormone oils on my skin (from now on, someone
told me, perfumes would have "scent" or "fragrance" but would not
"smell"). Three women leaning into my face and pricking my cheeks
and chin and my upper lip while I felt nothing at all. And
everyone repeating to me, over and over, "How beautiful! You'll be
so pleased when you see this! So proud! So glad you decided to
become the woman you've always wanted to be!" And asking me to
repeat those things in a softer voice, higher in my throat, with
wider variation of pitch, over and over, until they could smile and
say "Yes, perfect!"
I was sure I looked lovely. Four hours later when I came fully
aware of myself I was feeling very pleased, very mellow indeed. A
little constrained and swollen here and there, around my waistline
and chest especially. But so very feminine! Me!
I found I was seated on a high stool, my ankles crossed demurely,
my hands clasped in my lap, smiling to myself. At that very
moment, I realized, my "bee-stung" lips were being discussed by my
Charm School make-up instructor. She was demonstrating on me how
to outline full lips on them with dark lip-pencil or brush, then
how to fill them in, then gloss them. "Slather on the red, girls,"
she was saying. "Then wait. The man hasn't been born who can look
at lips like these without thinking about how they'd feel wrapped
around him like pillows and sliding up and down. He'll be stiff
before you can get near him. Then if you do get near him, he's
yours, and you can make whatever further arrangements please you."
I was in full view of the whole class on that stool. All eyes were
on me. Suddenly I felt frightened. The instructor had just
demonstrated a technique on me, and I knew what it was because I'd
been listening, though I didn't remember listening. And now about
fifteen other women were seated along a large table and imitating
her on themselves. That is, imitating me. "May I see?" I said in
my new small, high voice. She handed me a mirror. I looked.
An unfamiliar streaky blonde girl with some of my features stared
back at me. She had large, sleek, still-dazed eyes under two thin
pencilled arches of eyebrows, my familiar small jaw, flawless skin
stretched over her cheekbones, a full, pursed mouth, and wildly
crinkled hair gathered in back in a high ponytail. Dainty gold
hoops penetrated each earlobe and swung from them.
What I saw offered not even the faintest excuse for a male. She
was familiar, but female! I blinked at her. She blinked back, as
puzzled as I was to be looking at my own face as if at a sister's
face.
The instructor was right about the lips. Mine seemed to beg for
something to slip between them, a lollypop, a finger, a banana, a
cock, whatever. They were moist, ripe and plump, and at the moment
they were expressing that familiar doll-faced "Oh!" As I looked I
imagined those lips wrapped around my own dick, and I felt a
familiar pressure mount in my crotch. Thank God it was still
there! But it felt bound up. By a girdle?
"Thank you, Teena," I heard the instructor tell me. "You can step
down now."
I hopped off my stool and sat back down in the empty space I knew
was mine, between two other girls. My gait, I noticed, was more
pert than rangy and relaxed. The girl on my left smiled at me
reassuringly. I smiled shyly back. In front of me as indeed in
front of everyone else was a shoebox-sized plastic box filled with
cosmetics, brushes, and swabs, and a small standup mirror. And a
small notebook filled with page after page of notes I'd apparently
taken. How to stroke on liquid eyeliner was no longer a mystery --
I knew tricks to assure a straight thin line flared at the outer
corners! There were daytime and night time shades of eyebrow
pencils for different hair colors. Four-tone eyeshadowing for
whatever the effect desired. Blush for the apple of a girl's
cheeks. More blush for shadowing underneath her cheekbones. For
blending into a rosy-toned skin. All things I now knew! I'd heard
them and I'd written them down and I'd done them and I knew them!
Like the other girls I was now wearing the clinic's standard
make-up smock, a pink front-button cotton dress with short sleeves.
My arms were hairless, and my fingers were gorgeous, tipped with
oval, glossy, wine-colored jewels, really fabulous! My chest
projected a little. I felt pressure from the band of a bra that
hugged me, and from two shoulder straps bearing the unaccustomed
weight of two mounds. I felt them gingerly. Small, but they were
real breasts! "Something to grow on" came to mind, Angela's words.
"All right girls! Charm School's out, so it's time for you to
practice what you've learned. I told you when we began that you
were all going to feel more confident, more self-assured about your
appearance than ever before in your whole lives. And now don't
you?"
I was! We all were! Her pep talk, delivered when I was still sort
of asleep and very suggestible, had persuaded me. Or would have if
the other women who'd been working on me all through the day hadn't
already persuaded me of the same thing, reassuring me that I was
becoming lovelier and lovelier. I remembered that last of all a
marvelous woman, Moira, had seated herself confidently in front of
me and taken both my hands and leaned forward and stared intently
into my eyes and asked me my name and what day it was, what I liked
to wear, things like that, and looked puzzled when I told her I was
a man.
"You were a man," she told me. "But now we've made you over into
the woman you've always wanted to become. Look into a mirror and
tell yourself that whenever you feel the slightest doubt or
uncertainty. You're much happier now that you're a woman, Teena.
It's a whole, wonderful new world!"
It was. I believed her, and she had me repeat those things until
I believed myself. My new feminine identity came with a delicious
sense of danger, of risk, but I really and truly did love it! I
felt perfectly at ease with myself now. I wasn't the prettiest
woman I'd ever seen, but I knew I was attractive, I just knew it!
I'd fix my hair just a little different as soon as I got home, that
was all!
Our Charm School instructor was giving us our last instructions.
"Now girls, use your make-up remover on everything, and then each
partner take turns lying down in those recliners while the other
makes up her face. Then switch. Then remove it all and do the
same thing again. Then finally, remove it and make yourselves up,
and when you're satisfied, go home and astonish your partner!
Meanwhile I'll roam and comment!"
And so the last hour went. I got accustomed to feeling snugged and
hugged by whatever my undergarments. And meanwhile what may have
been a local anesthetic on my face wore off, so I could feel my
fingers on soft smooth skin as I patted and blended foundation
cremes with my fingertips. I felt silky. And my nipples felt so
excruciatingly sensitive under my bra! They seemed swollen all the
time, aroused and delightfully erotic. When I leaned over my
partner to pencil in her brows I accidentally brushed my breasts
against hers, and a ripe, sensation from that casual touching
rippled through my whole body! Wonderful!
And it was liberating to be able to lean over my partner, another
woman like me, trying to please her, to make her look and feel
good, feeling nothing sexual, only warm affection and a desire to
do my job well. I got the same sweet feeling when she leaned over
me to make up my face. We smiled and giggled and chatted together
un-self-consciously -- she was wondering what to give her boyfriend
for his birthday, and when she told me he wanted to but she was too
shy to let him, I encouraged her to go ahead and let him nibble on
her clit! The gift that keeps on giving! It was odd, my voice
stayed mostly in that high range I'd practiced earlier, and made
wild swings when I told her I was delighted with the look she'd
given me. I hugged her without even thinking. And she hugged me
back, sharing my pleasure. I just loved it, being a girl!
We'd each done ourselves finally, and we'd each been inspected and
graded, and we were just sitting and chatting about what we'd
learned when I came aware that Becky was standing in the doorway
surveying the scene. Looking around for me and failing to find me?
She couldn't recognize her own husband?
At that moment I realized that Becky had overdone it! She'd wanted
to make me feel too ashamed, too embarrassed to follow her on her
nocturnal jaunts! All I'd really needed for that was maybe
feminine hairdo, maybe a perm, maybe dye my lips red for the week.
That would have kept me hidden in the house! Let the world think
me a feminized freak? No way!
But had she been feeling too vindictive when she arranged this
extensive reconditioning for me? Had she been intent to destroy my
self-esteem altogether, to make me feel so emasculated I'd never
want to be seen by anyone anywhere ever?
She'd gone too far! The day should have been an elaborate exercise
in humiliation, in converting me into some sort of cringing closet
transvestite. But now I was nothing of the kind! I was the woman
I'd always wanted to be, confident in my femininity, more
self-assured than I'd ever felt in my whole life as a man! My
make-up instructor, my beauticians, Moira, everyone had told me how
to reassure myself of that if I ever questioned it! And I believed
them all, because it was true! I felt so pleased that Becky had
decided to do this to me! Grateful to her!
But I realized I'd better hide these new feelings! Because tonight
when Becky left the house to meet whoever she meant to meet, and do
whatever she planned to do, I'd be following her! Not a moment's
hesitation! I was an attractive woman! No problem! Who could
possibly recognize me? And if they did recognize me, so what? All
they'd see is an attractive woman!
I realized that now I could take charge of my own life again after
all! Among other things I could now think through how to get back
at those two bastards who'd gotten the better of me. How to
recover my marriage if I could and get on with my life if I
couldn't! No problem! I was free!
But I certainly didn't want Becky to know that! So I took a moment
to concentrate, to get into character the way actors do. Go back
to last night, I told myself. Feel ashamed and disgraced! A
little bit resentful, but also fearful, timid, overly-eager not to
offend Becky. I want to preserve my marriage, and Becky's testing
my sincerity. I'm now a ruined male clinging to a last few scraps
of self-worth, I told myself. Pathetic!
But so much fun!
I walked up to her and waited for her to see. At first she seemed
puzzled, but then she smiled and just said, "Well, look at you!"
"Becky!" I told her in my soft new voice, "Yes, look at me! What
kind of a man am I now? I'm so ashamed!" And I almost did break
down and cry, I managed to feel so sorry for myself.
Was I persuasive? Did a flicker of doubt cross Becky's mind, a
realization that she may have pushed me so hard I'd come through to
the other side? Could she see through me? Her face broke into an
expression that looked positively triumphant. Because I felt
humiliated? Because she could sense that I didn't?
I poured it on. "I don't know how I can ever face anyone ever
again! A week, you said? Some of this is forever! Look what they
did! I'm a freak! A laughingstock! Did you mean for this to
happen? Are you satisfied now?"
She accepted my bait. "Yes, Teena, I'm satisfied. Don't forget
for a moment that you deserve it and that you agreed to it! It's
for your own good and its for our good!" Then she relaxed, and
began sharing confidences again, almost girl to girl. "You know,
Teena, this makes this whole process so much easier for me. I
can't maintain a grudge against anyone who looks as cute as you do!
It's hard to remember you were ever a man!"
Was that a dig or a compliment? I took it as a compliment.
"You look darling, Teena. I love your hair! But let's hurry home.
I have another date with the man I introduced you to last night,
and we have things to do. And we're running later than I'd
expected."
As we moved back toward the clinic's front reception area she asked
casually, "Do you plan to wear that dress home, Teena? It's quite
flattering, but it does belong to the clinic after all. We could
buy it from them if you really don't want to part with it." She
paused. "I think the neighbors'll like you in it too when they see
you wearing it."
She was being ironic! I'd completely forgotten I was still in my
make-up dress! Of course! It felt so natural! But it was
supposed to be shameful! I tried to make my face turn pale, but
realized that it didn't show, because I was still wearing my
make-up.
Make-up! I was wearing full make-up down to my fingertips! I
looked at my fingertips, polished red gems! I felt a surge of
pride even while noticing that Becky was amused to think I was
shocked. "Oh, my!" I said. I hoped I sounded terrified. "And my
face, all this blush and lipstick and everything! I must look
ridiculous! Please, Becky, wait for me! Don't leave me here!"
I ran back to change into my men's wear. When I stripped off my
salon dress I saw that I was indeed wearing a bra and a hi-waist
pantygirdle, and decided to leave them on -- they felt right, fit
and proper, even comfy. It was a push-up bra, and I saw in the
mirror that my new little boobs filled its padded cups nicely, that
they even formed pretty curves spilling over the tops with a cleft
between them! How nice, I thought! And they're mine, and they'll
soon be much bigger! I smiled at myself!
I found the men's pants and T-shirt I'd worn here and I put them on
anyhow. The pants hung a little loose on my waist now, but the
T-shirt hid nothing of the new curves on my chest. So who could
mistakeme for a man? My brassiere's lace trim was fully visible
through the thin fabric. I decided not to try to cover it. It was
a charming accent, decorative!
Then reluctantly I used my make-up remover one last time, consoled
that I now had the skill to look this good whenever I choose. In
fact Becky would insist on it! I couldn't bear to remove my
gorgeous fingernails, and besides, I didn't know how. So I stuffed
my hands into my pockets.
It was hard to pretend that I felt embarrassed as we left the
clinic and mingled with other women in the mall en route to the far
lot where Becky had parked our car. She'd probably parked a
distance away deliberately, I thought, to give me ample opportunity
to feel vulnerable, an imposter, so I'd know what awaited me in my
own neighborhood if I dared emerge there. This was women's
country, as I'd noticed this morning.
But now it was my country! Now I belonged! I couldn't help but
check out other women as they passed, not for their attractiveness
or availability as I'd once done mindlessly, but for what they were
wearing, how they wore their hair, how well they'd made the most of
their best features and hidden the others. Lots of us were wearing
only T-shirts and jeans or khakis, like me, but we all looked like
women! Clothes do not make the woman, a certain look and flair
does that, I decided. Nice! I smiled at them and they smiled
back. My hair and face was my ticket of admission to their
sorority. Maybe my eyebrows too. And my breasts of course. As I
shook my head and felt a tug I suddenly remembered my earrings! I
have pierced ears! I'd forgotten! No wonder they all smile back
at me. I'm no way a man, a possible challenge. Not any more!
"Why did you remind me about my dress, but not my make-up or
earrings, Becky?" I asked her. "Did you want to embarrass me when
we got out here in full view of everyone?"
"Do you feel embarrassed?" Becky replied.
I thought I'd better not answer that question. There was something
wrong with her calculations, in this scheme of hers to keep me from
obstructing her freedom. Or with my calculations. She had to be
noticing that everyone was accepting me as what I was.
Even so, I kept up my performance, and Becky looked on amused as I
hesitated to remove one manicured hand from my pocket long enough
to open the car door, then did it. And she did try to reinforce my
supposed humiliation as she drove us home. "While you were in
there getting yourself prettified, Teena, I bought you a few new
things to wear. Girly things! Your men's clothes are now boxed
and in storage where you can't get at them! Girls wear girls'
clothes! If you mean to spy on me you're going to have to go out
dressed girly! Get used to that idea!"
I already had! I loved it! I was looking forward to it!
She looked me over more closely when we stopped for a traffic light
near our home. "Those earrings don't come out, do they? I forgot
to tell Angela to use hoops like those, not the usual posts or
hooks, when she pierced your ears, but she knew anyhow! They're
quite becoming. If you go astray in the wrong parts of town you'll
find that some men like to hook their fingers into earrings like
those, to haul your head down close to where they want your mouth.
When that happens you won't be able to pull away. Just cautioning
you, honey -- otherwise, wear them well! I do love what Angela did
to your lips! I can't wait to feel them puckering up to kiss mine
when your face is between my legs."
I tried to cover my mouth with my hand, as if my collagen-swollen
lips embarrassed me.
Then staring straight ahead, as Becky drove on she told me in an
even tone of voice, "I spoke to Kevin. And to Marshall. It's
true, what you said. They were responsible. It was a practical
joke they said. They spiked your last drink so you wouldn't have
the slightest idea where they were taking you. They were pretty
sure you'd never been there -- they thought it laughable in fact,
the notion that you'd ever try to take on a house full of available
women. When you can't handle even one!"
She paused. I listened. Would I be forgiven? Would it matter?
"They're amused by the way I'm punishing you. They loved fucking
me and they asked for a return round. I told them maybe. They
both think I'm doing the right thing, asserting my independence
from you. "Whatever messes his mind is good," is what they said.
They mean good for them of course. They want your accounts, and
they know you can't service your customers in person now, and they
hope you're too distracted to check up even by phone. So they've
started calling your customer list themselves. None have switched
over yet, they said, but they think it's only a matter of time."
She mused a moment. Then almost affectionately she said, "You
know, they really are something! I'm planning something to
accommodate them!"
"Becky, please, no! It's so humiliating. They tricked both of us,
they just admitted it! And look at me now! All because of what
they did, what they made you believe about me!" It was bad enough
that they had tricked my wife into fucking them when she was angry
with me. But to reward them for it?
Becky glanced at me a moment, then seemed to realize something that
amused her. "Yes, Teena, I suppose they did get the better of you.
They're clever. Look at you. They made you what you are today.
But they made me a wife who's now free to deal with you any way she
wishes, and that's quite an accomplishment! I should thank them.
I think maybe you should help me thank them, in fact. How would
you feel about sucking their cocks? I don't suppose they'd like to
have a man kneel down and take them into his mouth, but for you I'm
sure they'd make an exception. A pretty man like you? All dolled
up!"
"No!" I said.
"Oh yes, if I say so," she replied shortly. Then realizing that
I'd never agreed to that, only to tolerate her sexual adventures,
she changed her tone. "You've practically done it already, honey,
sucking their spunk out of me. Surely you'd rather swallow the
stuff fresh as it spurts directly out of their pricks! Do you
really want me to fuck them each time, to collect their semen for
you and bring it home to you in my pussy? "
What a choice! Suck their cocks or tell my wife to sleep with them
so I can lick them out of her? Oh God!
But an idea dawned! Lick them? Maybe, in a sense. Maybe now as
a woman I could find a way to strip Kevin and Marshall of their
clients! That would be a fit revenge for what they's done to me,
and to my marriage, to Becky, even. As a man our competition had
been two against one. I'd had to work twice as hard, and I
couldn't make any real headway going head to head with them. I'd
take some of their clients and they'd take some of mine. But as a
woman? A woman can be much more persuasive if she wants! I
grinned to myself. Would I do it to get even with them? Suck
client cocks for fun and profit? I've sucked up to potential
clients before, trying to get them to go my way, I thought. This is
almost the same thing.
This will take more than a week, I was thinking. But clearly,
given what the Mystique clinic had done to me, Becky'd never
intended to restrict my feminine appearance to a mere week. She
has her own time table and her own purposes, I realized, and she
isn't ready to reveal them to me just yet. She's set me up for at
least six months, I was thinking, maybe a year. Longer? Why?
She really does want me out of the way, I decided! And why not?
She's just discovered the fun of humping out-sized extramarital
cock, and she's having a good time feeding me the leftovers. As I
thought about it, I realized that when this week ends she'll only
want me to agree to more of same. Maybe for me to spend my life
with my face under her snatch.
Well, I was no longer in a hurry! I loved the way I looked. I no
longer minded doing what she expected of me. I was the woman I'd
always wanted to be, confident, self assured, just I'd been told!
Was this a kind of feminine self-abasement, my willingness to press
my new pouty lips against the lips of her cunt and sip whatever
male juices she might wish to bring home for me? Was it as a woman
that I sorta liked the idea? Or was it only my old
accept-the-inevitable, live-and-let-live, who-needs-the-hassle
temperament, still trying to make the best of things?
No matter! Just as all those women who'd worked on me had repeated
to me, and Moira had informed me, and just as my make-up instructor
had told the whole class, it's simply marvelous to know that you're
a woman and look your best! I decided to use my advantages no
matter what! No matter how. Steal Kevin's and Marshall's clients?
Of course! Suck 'em and fuck 'em, and as stockbrokers like to say
about recommending trades, churn 'em and burn 'em!
Again our car pulled into the driveway. Becky paused. "It's still
daylight," Becky said. "Maybe you'd better wait in the car until
I've pulled into the garage. It might be embarrassing for you,
being seen with those earrings and eyebrows, and that hairdo. And
that T-shirt hides nothing now, Teena!"
I nodded. I hadn't seen them yet myself, but I could certainly
feel them.
"It's hard to see how anyone could recognize you now! Who'd dream
Angela's work was so thorough! But remember, if anyone does see
you and asks who you are, I mean to tell them. So stay out of
sight."
I wasn't worried. There was no Tim now, only Teena, and Teena was
unashamed. Teena was proud of herself. But Becky didn't have to
know that. She'd invented Teena in order to mock me, she didn't
really believe Teena existed. But I knew now that Teena was real
enough. All those beauticians and clinicians had made her real.
Once inside, both of us carrying Becky's packages, Becky stopped in
the kitchen to make sure there was something in the fridge for me
to eat before she went out on her dinner date. There was, not
much. "You'll want to eat lightly from now on anyhow, Teena," she
said. "You have a figure to look after."
Oddly, as soon as she said it, I agreed with her. I did want to
eat lightly and take care of my figure. I was still residually
suggestive from those pills. How long would that effect last, did
Angela say? Until tomorrow morning?
"But we'd best begin getting ready. Bring your box of magic tricks
upstairs, and we'll see if you can make me look as good as you
looked today when I came to get you. Then if you can make yourself
look that good again. But first, a nice, long soak. It's been a
busy day."
She paused on the stairs as we went up, and turned to speak to me
again. For the first time her voice sounded different. No longer
angry or mocking, or laced with calculated cheer. Now she sounded
quiet, sincere, the way she'd talk to a friend. To a husband she
loved. "You know, Teena, I really can't think of you as 'Tim' any
more at all. You really do look like a girl now, even with your
face scrubbed. Maybe it's the hairdo? Maybe you should have grown
it longer and gotten it permed years ago? Whatever, I love you!"
And she leaned forward and kissed me.
"Thank you, I replied with equal sincerity, unthinkingly. "I like
my looks too. And I love you too!"
I then realized that was the wrong answer. My freedom of motion
depended on Becky thinking I was so ashamed to look like a girl
that I didn't dare step out of the house. She smiled, but "I'm
glad," was all she replied. Then she turned and continued on into
our bedroom.
Another surprise awaited me there. "All right, strip down, Teena!"
she said. "We'll take our baths together this evening. A really
hot tub and a long soak! I want to see everything Angela's done to
you. You're probably curious too!"
I ran a steaming tub and sprinkled in fragrant bath oil beads. And
bound up my hair in a plastic turban to keep it dry, and undressed.
Sure enough, when my bra came off, there were the distinctive
swellings in my chest that had filled my bra cups full. There were
the large protruding areolas and fat nipples I'd been feeling all
afternoon! That felt so delicious! My very own breasts! Enough
to heft in my palms, and I did, pleased.
When the panty-girdle came off, I saw some blotched discolorations
on my waist where I'd been liposuctioned for that breast tissue,
and I was still inspecting them when Becky came in and disrobed.
"Those'll disappear soon, I'm told," she said. "But it's already
worth the wait. You're six inches thinner in your waist, and now
your figure curves out to your hips the way it always should have.
And those bumps on your chest are very attractive, honey! Nothing
like mine yet, but they're only a starter kit after all, something
for a girl to grow on. I remember how proud I felt when mine were
that size." Now Becky was naked, queenly, and she stretched
herself tall and lifted her massive breasts in each hand almost as
if offering them to me, and she looked at me with the most radiant
smile! Loving, with a sparkle of wry affection, as if we two women
were the most intimate of conspirators in some grand plan that was
working perfectly!
I was captivated! Despite everything! I did love her! It was
worth all this, trying to keep her! Though looking like a woman
seemed an odd way for me to make myself more acceptable to her as
a man .
"Did you tell Angela to ... reshape me, up here?" I asked, cupping
my own chest outcroppings as she had hers, trying to look annoyed.
"Yes, of course!"
"But why? If this is supposed to be just this week?"
"You don't like them? Didn't you tell Moira that you'd rather be
the woman you're becoming? So aren't they appropriate?"
I was silent. She'd spoken to Moira. I couldn't make myself feel
aggrieved. They really were beautiful. My heart lifted as I gazed
down at my distended nipples.
"I thought so. You should see the expression on your face now,
honey. You love them!"
"But why something this extensive, Becky?"
"You've just answered the question yourself. Men like breasts."
"Not on themselves!"
She looked at me with an indulgent smirk. "Oh? Teena, aren't you
a little too pretty right now to be thinking you're still a man?
Look at you! Your hair! Your lips! Your curves! Your waistline!
Look at those nipples"
She looked me up and down, and suddenly I felt naked! Exposed!
Did she know I wasn't the slightest bit ashamed of my appearance?
end 5/9
VickieTern@AOL.COM
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