I had been saving up for a year to transform my life, from this special Friday. I had resigned my job and was returning home for the very last time wearing male clothes. Over the past year, my wardrobes had gradually been cleared of the old me and replaced with the clothes I would need for my new female life that would commence on Saturday. I had spent thousands on these new clothes and on converting my flat into a more appropriately styled female home. I had softened everything, cast out the browns and blacks, replacing them with pastels, particularly pinks, purples, peaches and silvers. I had even purchased a feminine dressing table with a boudoir chair so that I would have a place to keep my makeup, jewellery and perfumes as well as a comfortable well-lit place to sit while I did my hair and makeup. My bank balance had been swollen to the point where I would not need to work for a whole year. Also, there would be sufficient left for some cosmetic surgery as well. If I were to find a man to entertain me, I might even be able to stretch the time a little further but I would prefer, eventually, to find a female job to fund my life.
I parked my car in the bay allocated to my apartment and rushed inside to cast off the only male clothes I had left. I consigned them to a bin bag before running a bath. I covered my body with the hair removal cream I would need to use regularly until growth could be reduced and permanent removal achieved in the stubborn areas.
While I waited the ten minutes for the cream to work, I found my pink high heeled fluffy slippers and my matching satin robe and arranged them close by. A long luxurious foam and scented bath was followed by liberal applications of skin creams to all parts of my body. I was soft, smooth and glowing as I stepped into my robe and slippers.
There was still much to do but most of it would have to wait until the next day as I would need help to achieve the permanent parts of the first phase of the transformation. However, I felt that I needed to start enjoying my new life and to make some changes to my appearance right now as a reward for being so brave.
I found the hair bleach I had purchased and carefully read the instructions. I had deliberately grown my hair and hidden its increasing length by combing it back behind my ears. However, it was still far too short to be feminine and I would have to wear a wig until it became long enough for a female cut. However, it could, at least, have a female colour which could be blended into my wig. This could help secure the wig and allow me to wear it all the time, even in bed. I had noted while practicing my female look on previous occasions that, if one pulled one’s natural hair through the wig weave, the wig stayed in place much better as it could be held across the whole head by hair lacquer and did not need solely to rely on the glue at the front and the elastic at the back.
I applied the bleach and wrapped up my hair in a plastic bag, as instructed on the pack. While I waited the 20 minutes cooking time, I put on some foundation and lipstick, just to make me feel feminine, rather than to make a proper change. I then poured a G&T and lit one of the long white ciggies that would become part of my new risqué feminine style. I smoked and drank as I watched my hair colour change. Previously I was not a smoker but had noted how sexy women looked with a ciggie between their long-nailed fingers and how beautifully their breasts heave when they inhale and exhale. Watching a mind changing sissy smoking video convinced me of what I already knew and felt I had to do.
I put on the bleach neutraliser followed by a conditioner, a rinse to reduce the brassiness and then, for the first time ever, I found out how difficult it is to use hair rollers. It took almost 2 hours of practice but I achieved it and felt sure that I would half the time on the next occasion. I tied a scarf round my read to hold everything steady and in place while it dried and I prepared dinner.
I had to tell someone that I had started my new life and, even though she could not see me when I rang, I felt it essential that I first clip on my new gold jewelled iPhone cover before calling my sister Susanne. She had no idea what she was about to hear.
With a second G&T and a ciggie in my hand and a slimming salad on my plate in front of me, I pressed her numbers on my newly glitzy now feminine phone. As she answered, I said, I am just taking my first dose of female hormones and gulped them down before she could reply. She was stunned into bemused silence.
Susanne must have guessed that I liked to dress up as she had caught me borrowing her clothes on several occasions, but I had never presented her with my full femme self and she had no idea of my impending sex change. She hadn’t even been to my apartment during the past year so did not know how it had been changed. I had always visited her or we had talked on the phone when we kept in contact. That had always been as a man.
One reason for keeping my distance was that I always enjoyed pretending I was her sister while reclining on her soft fluffy bed and smelling her sweetness as I watched her do her hair and put on makeup before we went out together for our regular catch-ups.
She was furious to learn that I had not confided in her over the years about my dressing nor, until now, about my rash plans. In response, I promised that I would reveal all if we were to have dinner together, as two girls, on Saturday night. She said that she had a date but would cancel it as my news was far more important. In any case, she could always ask her stud, David, to service her later that night. Can I join you, I said, but was again faced with shocked silence?
I blew her a kiss over the phone and we both hung up.
I began to eat my meagre repass, chosen because I needed to become bone thin so that all my girly hormone fat could be concentrated on my ass, hips and tits, to be later augmented by surgery.
As part of my slimming regime, I had decided to use the corset training I had read about as an aid to waist reduction. As Corsets also compress one’s stomach, I should feel less hungry and this should make the dieting easier.
I returned to the bedroom and laced myself into my extra strongly boned night corset. To tighten that extra inch, I put the laces over the banister newel post, lifted my hands high over my head to stretch my body and walked positively forward, then jerked with my full body weight. When the laces were tied off, I checked and I had achieved a full 4-inch reduction but I felt very uncomfortable and was forced to take shallow breaths.
I would have to learn to cope with this at night, but I would wear something less restrictive during the day. I guessed that I would have to wear increasingly tight corsets for, at least, 6 months before my reshaping had occurred, at least according to the web sites that encourage corset training.
I finished off drying my hair with my hand-held salon quality hair dryer. It took ages. I really needed to buy one of those bonnet driers or go for a less wavy style. I could not treat myself to a salon service until my hair was long enough for the ultimate girly cut and I have never found heater tongs provide a curl that lasts all day.
With a careful comb-out and a little back combing, I achieved quite a reasonable short feminine style; long boyish at the back and sides but with bubbly curls on the top. The look excited me and I decided to do my makeup properly to see how good it really was. An hour later, after applying the face shaper, eye makeup and lip-gloss plumper, I was quite pleased with the way I looked. I felt that a few more months of growing my hair may mean that I would no longer need to wear a wig.
I had become quite turned on by the evolving changes and I felt that I needed a celebratory cum to relax me and help me to sleep. I was so pent up with anticipation.
I found my pink Lush G spot vibrator and popped it into my mangina, found my jewelled phone and opened the control app. With a big black dildo in one hand, a ciggie in the other and the phone beside me, I lay on the bed and clicked on the TV with the remote. I had already loaded a TSviper video.
I really wanted to have a body like hers and I love the way she is so proud to sport her handsome dick through a tight hole in her leggings, no matter what she is wearing. She looks almost like a sexy female wearing a strap-on dildo, but it is a warm real cock instead of a cold lump of plastic.
I took a deep drag on my ciggy, turned on the vibrations and watched Viper’s erect cock standing proud as she danced and heaved her breaths as she smoked herself.
Gradually, it began to feel good for me so I turned up the vibrations and grasped my cock in my hand, pretending that it was hers.
I began to twitch, shudder and tremble as my orgasm approached. As the feminisation advice instructs, I took three deep drags on my ciggie, braced myself and, with a gasp, shot a rope of cum into the air. I relaxed and tensed again and two further ropes and a dribble followed before I sunk back into the bed exhausted.
It was a sensational cum and the sensation was increased by being able to watch myself in the various mirrors I had installed around the room. My glance alternated between myself and the well hung shemale who could shoot ropes, just like me, and did so in several of her videos.
What a dilemma I had? Half of me wanted to be just like her, have a wonderful sexy female body alongside being able to enjoy my cock as only a man can appreciate. The other part of me wanted to be that same sexy female but one who wanted to be loved by a handsome man who would take me to an equally intense female ecstasy with his powerful cock. In the latter case, I had the advantage of knowing just how to make his cock feel good, as I had practiced on myself so many times over the years. The problem has always been that it is the female persona and appearance, including my own in drag, that turns me on. I do not really find men physically attractive, although the sight of a perfect erect cock does turn me on. When I watch heterosexual porn, I feel jealous of the girl, not the man. I do go through the process of trying to decide whether I could kiss and love the owner of such a wonderful weapon. At best, my conclusion is, maybe. I am thus, probably, a lesbian in a man’s body.
I kicked off my slippers, put on my baby doll and collapsed into bed, without taking off my makeup. I drifted into a sleep peppered with dreams of the options that lay before me in the days ahead.
When I awoke, my mirror declared that I was a terrible sight that I could never allow anyone to see me in. What lover, male or female, would love a sight like that, I thought. I covered myself with cream and wiped as much smudged makeup off as I could but I was left a very smeared mess, particularly around the eyes. At that point, I noticed that my pillows were in a similar state so I put on my dressing gown and slippers, stripped the bed and put everything in the washing machine, then made coffee as my diet would not allow breakfast.
I drank the coffee, took my hormone pills, had a ciggie and cleaned the remainder of my face before bathing and creaming the whole of my body, as would become my practice every day.
I stood in front of the mirror with my cock tucked firmly between my legs to see how I felt about having a flat front. It looked nice. I just needed a tight little slit covering a soft wet pussy to achieve perfection.
I had almost forgotten what had happened the night before. The female part of my persona was now properly in the ascendent and I needed to progress it quickly before I lost my conviction. I must attend my appointment at the nail and beauty bar no matter how nervous I was becoming about it being my first excursion into the female world as a transformed woman.
I took off my corset, put on my D cup silicone filled breastplate, covered it with a white bra and added my silicone hip pads under 2 pairs of control tights, before adding my white day corset. It is much lighter in weight than the night time one and shows through less under clothes. I tightened it by 3 inches rather than the night time 4 inches, taped my cock between my legs and put on some lacy white panties.
I chose a high-necked long-sleeved black and grey sheath dress with a sweetheart cut out in the front to provide a hint of cleavage without allowing the breastplate joins to show either at my neck or at my arms.
I perched on the dressing-table stool in front of the mirror and put on my makeup.
I spent a long time blending the foundation and face-shaper so that I looked less like a drag artist than I sometimes felt that I could look. I only put on wispy light eyelashes and did not over plump my lips. I then went to the cupboard and found my chic mixed blonde ombre wig and put it on. I pulled tresses of my own hair through the weave holes with a crochet hook. A bit of teasing with a tail comb, followed by some hair spray and, voila, it did not look at all bad. It was quite a French chic look.
My black patent pointed stilettos, matching black bag over my left arm and my jewelled iPhone in my left hand and I was ready to go on my next adventure.
The salon in the village is always busy as it has a good reputation and is the only one for some miles around. Everyone looked up as I walked in and I was not sure if it was because they recognised me as being a man in drag or because of a general curiosity. Tracy, who was to make my new nails said nothing about me but got straight down to the task in hand, punctuated by stories about her boyfriend and the fun she had with him the night before.
I am not keen on the hooked square ended look that many girls choose and feel that the long stiletto points can be OTT for most occasions. So, I chose the long coffin shape with a shocking pink gel covering. I asked Tracy for a bottle of matching varnish to take home so that I could do my toes to match. When she had finished, my nails looked good and felt strong enough to ensure that I would not have accidents with them as I got used to having longer than usual fingers.
I then went upstairs to the sister salon and made my next permanent change to my body. I had my ears and tongue pierced but was disappointed to learn that I would only be able to wear gold sleepers in my ears for the 2 weeks healing process; my big earrings would have to wait.
Angela, the manager of the salon, was a little more forthright and asked me if I dressed up often. I felt deflated that I had been discovered and asked her what gave me away. She said that I looked too glamorous to be a regular customer and that caused people to look too closely and question what they were seeing. She said, from her perspective, she thought I looked great and the more I came to the salon, the more she would be able to help me to fit in. She persuaded me to have less noticeable semi-permanent eyelashes fitted to both my top and my bottom lids. She said that they would give me an enhanced daywear look and that I could always add falsies for the evenings and special occasions. They worked out well but I needed to apply several coats of mascara to make them heavy enough for my liking.
Finally, she injected Botox into my lips and cheek bones to give me a pout and a more sculpted facial appearance. She said it would help me by not having to use as many OTT face shaping cosmetics which result in an over made-up effect.
I was well pleased with the result and promised to return another day to have my eyebrows micro bladed, as she had suggested.
I left the salon feeling that I had climbed the first rung of the long ladder to the new me. I seemed to be walking with a new poise and certainty as I returned to the car.
At home, I remembered that I was still wearing last night’s , now silent, G spot vibrator. I had just got used to it being there but I was concerned that both it and my inside should be cleaned so I went to the loo to remove it and to clear my bowels. I cleaned and disinfected the vibrator but felt that I should, in future, attend to inner cleanliness so ordered a douche from amazon using the new female account I had set up. All you need to do is to ensure that your femme initials and surname are the same as the male one on your credit card. One can set up an email account in any name you like.
I resolved to keep my mangina poo free at all times, as soon as the douche arrived, just in case!
Over a cold salmon and salad diet lunch, I called my sister to arrange our evening together. I told her about my morning adventure at the salon. She was shocked and couldn’t believe that I would make so many irreversible changes to my body, let alone take the hormones that would ruin my male persona and ultimately render me impotent.
I told her that I had chosen a maximum change regime that included;
- 80 mg oestradiol per day for each 21 days followed by 100mgs per day of progesterone for the five days of a simulated period cycle, during which I would wear a Tampax to remind me that I am a girl
- 200mg per day of Spironolactone as this reduces maleness, particularly hair growth. However, I realised that I would need to eat bananas to keep my potassium level up as lowering it is a side effect
- 100 mg a day of cyproterone which would kill testosterone production and allow the female hormones to take over with maximum effect
I explained that I was expecting my cock and balls to shrink as my tits and hips grew. This would remove all residual male sex drive so that later, when I was castrated, I would feel no loss of something that was no longer there but would benefit from being able to reduce the risk of side effects from the hormones, as the dose could then be lowered. Thus, the female hormones would create a natural progression; sort of, why have a cock and balls if my penis was permanently small, soft and useless. It would be far better to be smooth and flat in tight clothes and I would welcome the female pleasure of being able to have a soft warm pussy and sensitive clittie when I had the final operation.
Susanne was aghast to hear what I was contemplating and insisted that we needed to talk further that night before I went any further with my plans. We arranged to meet outside a modern cocktail bar/restaurant in town at 2000.
I telephoned to book a table but, as this was the first time I had done this as a female, I rehearsed my female voice several times. Previously all my bookings had always been at gay or shemale clubs and those venues expected male voices on the line.
I practiced for 15 minutes and finally decided that I was ready to speak on a telephone in my new role. I asked for a table for 2 at 2030 in the name of Rachael, my new name, and gave them my phone number when requested. Another hurdle climbed!
I sorted out a shaped heavyweight bandage dress in black for the night. It had a wonderful deep low front that would reveal my full cleavage so I needed to go braless. It had a short-sleeved top which covered the side of my breast plate but I needed to wear an extravagant choker necklace to cover the neck joint.
As I was to show so much of my artificial front, I spent some time applying foundation and powder to the breast plate so that it would match my skin tone. I then changed my underwear to black. Without a bra, I noticed that the expensive silicone inserts in the breast plate made my boobs bounce a little as I moved and that felt nice. I expected that the large nipples would show amusingly through my dress.
I laced my black day corset down to 4 inches without any difficulty; I must already be losing weight or be getting trained into having a smaller waist. I resolved to get a 5-inch reduction in the future with the night corset at bed time.
Now for the bottom half. I stripped off my tights and the tape from my cock. I then copied the advice on a Japanese website about how to tuck using superglue instead of tape. The video showed how to do it while leaving one’s cock able to piss through a hole in the pussy slit created using the skin around my balls. It worked a treat but pulled dreadfully when I stretched; I noted that I would have to be careful not to get an erection. I then clipped on the removable suspenders to my corset as I would be wearing stockings tonight.
Next, I painted my toenails with the varnish from the salon. While they dried, I cut out the gussets from some flesh-coloured footless support tights. These would secure my hip pads while allowing my pee hole and arse hole the freedom they needed. With bare feet and a mock pussy, I would be able to wear sheer black stockings through which my toe nails would show. My “Fuck Me” open back panties covered the open gusset in my tights, at the front, at least. I planned to wear strappy sandals so that my newly painted toes would be fully visible.
I had registered myself as a Simmi girl some time ago, although I was then only pretending. Through this membership, I receive frequent emails with special offers and snap up the high heel bargains. Tonight’s black patent sandals were offered at half price, post free, and are to die for. They have 14cm spike heels, a double diamante strap across the toe crease and a five deep diamante ankle strap with a big sparkly adjusting buckle at the side. The wide buckle is at exactly the right place on my ankle to cover the point where the footless tights end and the stocking-only covering of my foot begins. In order to prevent damage to the delicate ankle strap diamanté, once adjusted to the right tightness, the patent leather half width heel has a zip opening. It works like magic; unzip, point your toes into the shoe and zip up once snuggly in. I wish more shoes were designed like these.
Time was marching on so I put the kettle on and creamed my face to remove the day makeup while it boiled. With my tea and a ciggie to help me, I sat in front of the dressing table mirror to start the long and artistic job of creating a perfect sculptured complexion. This time it was a little easier because of the Botox but I really needed to go back to the salon and have my eyebrows done as it took 3 attempts before I could make them look identical.
Turning myself into my fantasy girl began to arouse me and it was getting painful down below. So, I popped in my G spot friend and used my wonderful jewelled phone to programme a sweet hands-free girlie dribble cum which I followed with an after sex ciggie before returning to the process of my transition.
Even well massacred, my lash extensions did not provide the look I wanted to achieve so that I added false lashes to my top lids and then more mascara to bond them together. The bottoms worked fine.
When my eyes had been completed, they looked very “come to bed” so I turned my mind to my new pouty mouth which was a little sore. I painted a deep purple/pink outline outside the enhanced lip line to make them even more pouty and then infilled with several shades of lighter pink, working outside inwards so that the lightest colour was in the middle. They now looked like proper cock sucking lips and, even more so, when I had covered them with thick lip gloss. I puckered up to blow myself a kiss then waggled my tongue to show my piercing. The look made me want to have that mouth sucking a cock, preferably mine. That is a bad girl feeling, not a man feeling, I thought; that’s good.
I could not wait to try on my various wigs to see which one would look best for tonight. I was still wearing my morning wig and it looked just as good as Jeanne Lazareva looks in her blonde bob. I have always thought of that look on her as being the epitome of sophisticated sexiness. I looked through my wigs and all would look good but I decided that none would be better than the one I was already wearing. So, instead, I backcombed the sides of the bob to provide width and fluffiness and decided to stay with what I was wearing.
I stepped into my shoes and went to the mirror to make an assessment of the new me. I decided that, if I were to be a man, I would absolutely want to fuck me but that most women would tell their men to stop drooling over that tart!
This was probably not the right look to have when I meet my sister for our first girly rendezvous, but could not work out how to please us both and, particularly, what to change. Deciding that there was insufficient time left to start again, even if I knew what to do, I would be better to stay as I was.
I put my long leopard skin fake fur coat over my shoulders in a casual drape, filled my handbag with money, makeup and ciggies plus the, must not forget, bunch of keys. It would, indeed, be embarrassing to be locked out on my return. (Who would I call; the police?) I then put on my rings; the choker necklace was already in place to cover the top of my breastplate. I wished that I could have worn some big earrings but the sleepers would have to do. I was already wearing my girly jewelled watch as my male version had been consigned to the bin. I balanced my jewelled phone in the left hand with twelve gold slave bracelets on the right wrist.
I was ready and, without the usual cautious look around to see if the coast was clear, I proudly walked out to my car and drove off.
In town, parking is difficult but I found a place 3 streets away. This meant that there would be a long walk in my heels but I did not care. I wanted to see if I got admiring glances from passing males and I was not disappointed. However, I could not tell if they were looks of admiration or curiosity about my sex.
I timed my arrival at just the right moment as Susanne was arriving at almost the same time. She was looking around, trying to find me but, as she had no idea what I looked like, she did not immediately recognise her new sister. I walked up beside her and linked my arm in hers.
She looked startled but turned to me with her mouth open in amazement. “Oh my god,” she said, “you look beautiful, but a bit overdone. Are those really your tits?”
I smiled and decided to say nothing until we were sitting down inside. I guided her to the door and gave my name to the bouncer. He did not bother to check our booking, after all we were unattached sexy girls of the type the bar is keen to have as customers to attract more men to come in. However, I did notice that he kept his eyes on my tits as he opened the door for us. Life can be much easier when one is a girl, I thought!
Under normal circumstances, Susanne would get all the admiring glances when she walked into a place like this but, tonight, it seemed to be me that was generating the bulges to form in the men’s pants and I loved it. I had already trained myself to look first at a man’s bulge, then his face and then ass before taking in his whole physique. Today it felt completely natural to do this as well as fluttering my eyelashes at male glances.
“Stop it you tart,” Susanne said, as I fluttered my lashes when a chap gave up his seat for me. I just purred.
We ordered some cocktails and she looked deeply into my eyes and said, “I know that you have always liked tarty girls but I had no idea that you were actually a homosexual wanting to look like a tart to attract men.”
I bristled at this misunderstanding. I said emphatically that I was not.
She put her head on one side and eyed me up and down then said, “you had better explain yourself then as you are behaving just like one.”
I began the long story of my inner turmoil about my true sex, my love of all things feminine and how I had wrestled with the emotions of how my cock was trying to destroy my true feminine self. I explained that I could never know, for certain, whether I was man or woman until I could experience being a girl, so I had decided to become one. While I was a boy and I was in relationships with girls over many years, there was always something missing. I would have preferred being the girl I was fucking rather than me doing the fucking. Whenever possible, I had tried to dress as a girl in secret and to do girly things. I even tried going out as a girl to gay clubs but I found I had no empathy with the people that frequented gay clubs, in fact they turned me off, so how could I be a homosexual man. Such men do not fancy women so why should they fancy a man in drag.
I had thus decided to become a girl to an almost irreversible point so that I could find out what it was like to live the life of a girl and even have a heterosexual boyfriend. Obviously, I would have to wait for the hormones to work and then to have some enhancing surgery but, hopefully, I would be able to try heterosexual sex before taking the final plunge of having the last ugly traces of my manhood removed.
“Wow,” she said, “it will take some time for me to take all that in; let’s eat while we discuss it further.”
Over our slimming fish and rice dishes, she told me that I was either brave or mad to do what I had planned and she was not quite sure which.
Studying me carefully, she said that she felt I should tone down my overly sexy appearance a bit if I wanted to be accepted in female company. She also said that, while I was wearing falsies, I would not be able to establish a relationship with a heterosexual male. If I were to try, when he discovered my secret, as he surely would, I would probably get beaten up instead of being fucked.
I pointed out that the falsies would eventually be replaced by hormone changes, followed by surgical enhancements, but agreed that it would be best if I constrained my social life to gay events until that had happened. However, I was disappointed by that realisation. She added that a possible alternative would be to find a girlfriend with lesbian tendencies, for the mean time. It would have the advantages of giving me interim lesbian sex while affording credibility when out together, particularly if she were to help with my visual presentation.
That sounded like good advice and I resolved to do it, but to have solo sex until I could find the right person.
We ordered coffee and, while it was being made, I went outside for a ciggie.
There were a group of lads outside holding pints and talking. They whistled and shouted out, how about a blow-job darling. I licked my lips so that they could see my piercing and drew deeply on my ciggie to make my tits rise and fall. They couldn’t take their eyes off me as I said, perhaps later, if you have big enough cocks to excite me. I then turned away swiftly and returned to the security of the table. I felt good about myself at being able to attract men, even though they had thought I was a slapper.
I wasn’t sure whether it had been a successful outing with Sis, or not. On balance, I deemed that it had been good as Susanne had helped me to sort out some of my dilemmas and she now understood me so that I was no longer alone in dealing with my dilemmas. I resolved to do what she said and temporarily to restrict myself to gay and lesbian events and only to go elsewhere if accompanied by a real girl. I hoped that I could find such a girl quickly as it was clear Susanne was not offering to take on the role.
When I had arrived at home again, my phone rang. It was Susanne. She said that she had been thinking about me and suggested that she might be able to help. She added that she had told her boyfriend about me and had shown him a selfie she had taken of us at the table.
He evidently thought I was a wow and wanted to meet me but she had vetoed that idea. Could she be jealous? However, he did also suggest that he could introduce me to a girl he knows who is very kinky and might just enjoy a relationship with someone unusual like me. He had evidently suggested that Susanne might enjoy a threesome with him and the same girl but the suggestion had gone down like a lead balloon.
I was so excited by the news about the girl that I insisted that Susanne should follow it up straight away.
When I returned to my bedroom, I looked in my long mirror and saw a sexy beautiful girl looking back at me and wondered if the kinky girl Susanne had mentioned might be attracted to me. As I considered the point, I realised that I was certainly falling in love with myself. If I had been in my male persona, I would have wanted to fuck me so I decided to treat myself to a little self fucking and to use my iPhone to record the event.
I put my phone on a tripod so that I could film the action. I started by walking into the bedroom with my coat over my shoulders, just as I had done on my return that evening. I fluttered my eyelashes and licked my lips to show my piercing while imagining that I was doing it to excite a hunk who was waiting for me and would be fucking me that night. I shrugged off my coat, took my ciggies from my bag and lit one then walked forward blowing out the smoke towards that imaginary man. I puckered up as if to kiss him. I then turned my G spot vibrator on to low vibes so that I too could get excited about what was about to happen.
Stopping the film for a moment, I secured my suction cup dildo to the wall at kneeling height, I set up the camera to show just the cock and not the wall. I then filmed myself falling to my knees to ravage his cock with a smoky blow job, stopping occasionally to change the viewing angle to show my tits and lips at better angles.
God, I now felt so sexy. I hitched up my skirt to reveal my fuck-me bare arse panties, moved out of camera range to plop out the vibes then returned and impaled myself on the cock. It was big for my virgin ass but I began to fuck gently as I was not used to the painful pleasure it gave me. I will need to buy some poppers to relax me, I thought.
I lit another ciggie as I took the cock deeply into me. I inhaled and exhaled in rhythm to the stroke. Psychologically, it felt good to have a cock in me but it was not going to give me an orgasm. Also, it was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. Why is it that sexy shemale porn stars like Lola Spais can have superb girly orgasms when her girlfriend fucks her with a strap on and I just felt uncomfortable? I withdrew and set up the camera by the bed, popped the vibrator back in again and lay back with my knees pulled up as if I were about to welcome my man. With the vibes on maximum, and a new ciggie, I closed my eyes and pretended that I was helplessly servicing my man. Occasionally I refreshed my memory of the scene by glimpsing the view from the mirror wardrobe at the side of the bed. I wanted to grab my glued up cock but forced myself to think only of girly feelings and this helped them to grow inside me rather than in my cock. I began to weep cum from my limp glued up member and, as it leaked, the pleasure increased and so did the flow.
The flow then reduced and I felt cheated as I had not shot a load. It was a sort of appetiser cum but was something and nothing. I felt that I was being fined my normal climax for being an incomplete person. However, in my disappointment my sexy feeling started to return and built slowly again into another dribble followed by a bigger flow. This, again, was not the anticipated climax but was a more intense reaction than the first time. I relaxed and waited again in the hope of a third event and I was not disappointed. It was even more intense than the previous two but was not a male crescendo. However, it was a totally satisfying ending and left me feeling drained of everything I had to give.
This is the new girly me, I thought, as I stepped out of my dress and fell into bed as I was. To hell with the sheets, I thought. I will wash them again tomorrow.
As I nestled down to sleep, my false tits created mounds in the bedding and I wished that they were real as it looked really great. Tomorrow, I thought, I will go to the gay club and find a girlfriend as Susanne suggested, unless her boyfriend’s idea proves to be a better option
I did not dare to look in the mirror when I awoke but put on my robe and slippers and went to the kitchen and made coffee. I applied hair remover while I drank the coffee. I then bathed and creamed myself and used some of the body cream to remove my makeup.
The doorbell rang. I kept as quiet as a mouse so that no one would know that I was in. I could not answer the door looking as I did. I waited for a while then opened the door gingerly to discover that Amazon had delivered the douche I had ordered the previous day and had left it outside on the mat. What a fabulous service, I thought.
I made up a brew of warm water, glycerine and a little antiseptic, blew it into me, held it for as long as I could, then emptied myself into the toilet. What a mess came out. So, I did it again as a rinse.
I now felt clean inside and out and was ready for my new regime of a morning jog.
I put on a C cup bra and some normal silicone falsies, some pretty thong panties to cover my stuck-up cock and donned my tracksuit and glitzy gold trainers. The top of the track suit is cropped under the bust to show my midriff and I resolved to have my navel pierced so that I could show sexy body jewellery there. I did my face and hair and tied a bandeau round my head. I thought that I looked sweet. I put my keys in my pocket, my phone in my hand and Wi-Fi earphones in my ears so that I could listen to music as I ran. Off I went to the park for my first jog of my new slimming regime.
I jogged for about 45 minutes and practiced swinging my hips as I ran. There is so much to learn!
While I was running, my phone rang. I was surprised to find David, Susanne’s boyfriend, on the line. He had a different tone than usual in his voice. I guessed that it was because he was talking to a girl, but I may have imagined it.
He began by asking me not to tell Susanne about the call as he wanted to help me by fixing up a meeting with his sexy friend, and he would rather do that himself than have Susanne do it. I guessed that he wanted to see the new me in person and to make up his own mind about me.
He said that his friend was a proper Essex girl called Skylar. She was definitely eagerly bisexual, very sexy and seemed to be turned on by all sorts of kinky and unusual things. She had even made some raunchy amateur porn movies which he said were a great turn on when he saw them. I wondered what she would think of last night’s amateur movie?
He had evidently already discussed me with Skylar and she was as keen as he was to meet me. However, he could only make it for a couple of hours that evening from 1800 as he was going out with Susanne later that night.
It is a date, I said, where shall we meet?
We will come round to your place, he said, then I can be sure that no one will see us together and there will be no danger of Susanne finding out. I will open a bottle of wine, I said, and will expect you at 6 o’clock.
I could hardly wait for 6 o’clock to come round and spent the remainder of the day getting ready for the event. I put my hair in rollers and put on my face foundation base coat. I then moved on to face shaping and used white on my eye sockets, down the front of my nose and on the bottom of my chin. I then used dark brown at my hairline, my temples, the sides of my nose, across the bottom triangles of my face and below my jaw.
Next came the long gentle process of blending the colours with a damp sponge. My face shape was improving but needed more work. I added a light foundation to cover everything and then started shaping again but, this time, with lighter colours and adding plum shader on my cheek bones. More blending followed, then a coating of green followed by shimmer blending powder. It looked good. I had a perfect flawless complexion with subtle lights and darks in the right places so I sprayed everything with setting spray and adjourned for a coffee and a ciggie.
Afterwards, I decided to pluck out all of my eyebrows so that I could paint in a perfect new chiselled shape with square inners nearer my nose. I measured the lines carefully with a ruler and put on faint dots with and eyebrow pencil to mark the extremities. I then used a brush with short flat bristles edgewise to draw the outline using black powder shadow and a smaller similar brush to fill in the void with a feathered effect near the chiselled inner edge. It looked great and was just what an Essex girl would like.
I decided on a dramatic eye look but toned-down lips. I used various shades of brown and gold shadow on my eyes with some glitter at the outer edge and a dark brown eye crease arch. I then put on the first coat of black liner followed by some long false lashes and loads of mascara, more liner to straighten the lash base and a second coat of mascara. (The new Maybelline lash sensational mascara intense black is great)
Finally, I outlined my lips in a dark beige and infilled with one of those pinkie beige foundation-coloured lipsticks that blonde bimbo’s favour as it accentuates one’s eyes. I actually prefer succulent reds and shocking pinks but, tonight, I was meeting a girl rather than trying to stiffen a male cock.
I left the rollers in my wig and put it onto the spare wig block. No matter how successful it had been, I felt that I needed a different style for tonight. I selected a longer than shoulder-length blonde wavy wig with a lace front so that it provided a natural hairline. I had already styled it into a modern curtain look, quaffed up at the front hairline. To soften what can be a severe style, I created ringlets that cascaded down either side of my face. I brushed these out so that the style was even softer, falling in waves. I put the parting at the side, rather than the middle, so that one side fell gently over the side of my face rather than creating the stark look of a centre parting favoured by some girls with angelic faces.
I put the wig on and teased it a little to put extra style into it. I was pleased with the result, it was quite “Essex Girl”, as that might appeal to Skylar.
As the dress I wore the night before had worked out so well, I decided to wear it again. However, with the different hair and makeup, I looked very different in it.
I put on my largest breast plate, which has a G cup, my black quarter cup corset and laced it by 4 inches. Then I added my largest hip pads under the gusset-less tights, stockings and a clean pair of “fuck me” panties. The slimmed waist and the various falsies gave me a figure to die for. I stepped into my dress and glitzy stilettos and looked in the long mirror. Wow, I thought!
Even though my ears had not healed, I decided that I absolutely must wear some large ear rings so I wore some glamorous gold dangly ones purchased from Pretty-Little-Thing. I put rings on every finger and bracelets on my right arm to complete the accessories and I was ready by 5 o’clock. I went to the kitchen and got out a bottle of champagne and 3 glasses, poured one for myself and sipped it while smoking a celebratory ciggie as I waited for the doorbell to ring.
They were early as it rang at 1745.
Standing in the doorway, I saw a beautiful girl, with an extremely heavily made-up handsome face but with a shaved head. She did not need hair, she was absolutely gorgeous. She was obviously normally dark haired as there was a dark shadow where her hair would have been. She wore exceptionally long lashes and had enhanced creases on her eyelids and chiselled eyebrows, like mine, but much heavier and very black. Her lips were cherry red, plump and glossy. Her long stiletto nails were coated in a matching colour and all coordinated with her sequined boob tube top worn above skin tight glossy black PVC leggings and 6-inch black patent concealed platform stilettos. She sported several large jewelled rings, a black jet choker and some of the largest hoop earrings I have ever seen.
“Hello, darling,” she said, “you look good enough to eat,” and stepped forward to embrace me. She kissed me firmly on the lips as she felt me up and down. “I love corsets,” she said as she moved past me. David followed, and seemed to take the lead from Skylar, as he had never given me the time of the day when I was a man. He took me into his arms as he would a lover and gave me a long deep kiss on the lips, while feeling my piercing with his tongue. He held me so tight that I could feel his stiff cock pressing into me. I can’t wait to get those luscious lips and tongue round my cock, he said, as he followed Skylar into the apartment.
I grabbed the champagne and glasses and led the way to the bedroom. I just could not wait to experience what they seemed to have in mind.
What a wonderful room Skylar said as she walked into the bedroom. It is a proper boudoir and so sexy. We are going to have some fun in here. You must have more mirrors in this room than there are in most bordellos.
I poured some wine and lit a ciggie, thinking that we would talk and get to know each other. But Skylar was having none of that. She climbed onto the bed and unzipped the front of her leggings to reveal a beautiful shaven pussy. She held out two fingers to me and said, suck these and get them wet for me so that I can play with my clittie while I watch you suck David’s cock. My mouth went dry at the thought of what I was about to do. It would be the first cock I had ever held in my mouth, although girls had sucked mine on numerous occasions. I would be giving a real man the pleasure I had felt from being sucked and not just be pretending to do it using a dildo. I hoped that I did not disappoint.
I moistened her long fingers and then fell to my knees in front of David, hungrily unzipping his fly and yanking down his trousers by tucking the forefinger and thumb of each hand into the sides of his waistband.
I was rewarded with a wonderful sight. It was the most incredible and beautiful cock I had ever seen and I have studied many in porn movies, although I have had no experience of them in real life. It stood at least 8 inches tall and was so stiff, it stood up next to his body, rather than sticking outwards as mine used to do. His cock and balls were hairless and this made them look bigger. His balls were tight, bunchy and fully charged for action. I so wanted to make him squirt.
My whole body was trembling with excitement as I grasped then caressed his beautiful cock with both hands. This still left enough head uncovered to put it into my eager mouth. I was drooling as I opened wide to welcome it into my warm wetness and to caress his frenum with my piercing. He gasped with pleasure as I sucked and added feeling with my tongue. It felt so powerful in my mouth and I felt so fragile as I submitted to that power, with my inflated lips framing the joyous shaft.
“Give him a deep throat,” Skylar said, as she picked up one of my ciggies and lit it. I haven’t smoked for years, she said, but watching you two sex fiends makes me want one to calm me down.
I somewhat reluctantly removed one of my gripping hands and opened wide to swallow that wonderful shaft. I sunk it in a good four inches before I choked. Let me show you, Skylar said, and beckoned my stud to come to her. I was bereft at losing contact with his wonderful fucking stick and to have failed in my first opportunity to perform and give pleasure to my man. My consolation prize, when I reluctantly let go of his meat, was that he stooped forward to help me to stand on my wobbly legs, at the same time taking me into his powerful arms and holding me tightly as he kissed me deeply and said, thank you my sweet; that was so good. My legs were like jelly and I nearly fell to my knees again with the thought that I may not have been perfect at blow jobs but I must have been doing reasonably well to have had that response.
The cock walked over to a new and equally succulent mouth. I stood behind David with my arms round his virile body and held his cock at the right angle to feed it into a new pleasure dome. Skylar did not thrust forward to try and force it past her choke reflex but seemed to walk her lips, little by little, up the shaft as it descended into her gullet. It went in all the way to the hilt. She held it there for a few moments then pulled back gasping for breath.
Being able to do that for your man is a great turn on for you both, she said. You are completely and willingly submitting to the power of his cock but, as you cannot breathe and the feeling for him is not as good as being that deep in a pussy or an arse, what is the point of him using your mouth as a fuck hole, as some porn movies like to pretend.
“Come and have a ciggie and a kiss and a cuddle with me,” Skylar said, “while I get David to eat my pussy. I need another cum and he will be much nicer to kiss after he has a mouthful of my pussy juices. Also, you will be able to fantasise about how good cunnilingus will feel when you have had your surgery.”
We lay there smoking, kissing and me playing with the big nipples on her firm but smallish boobs, while David buried his head between her legs making slurping noises. After a while and two orgasms, she dismissed David and told me to take over, saying that girls were much better at cunnilingus than men.
I pulled my long hair to the side over my shoulder and leaned forward over the end of the bed. I buried my head between her open legs. As I began my joyful task, Skylar said something I did not hear and, a moment later, I had the new experience of feeling a warm throbbing, real cock, pushing into my mangina. I was in heaven, submitting to a beautiful cock to please my man while enjoying female gentleness and warm loving sex at the same time.
Skylar was squirming and moaning gently as my piercing lapped her clittie in her warm, increasingly wet, pussy. Suddenly, she closed her legs against my head as she tensed and screamed in ecstasy as she climaxed. As she relaxed, she let out a stream of piss into my welcoming mouth. Was that good, baby, I said, after I had swallowed it all down. She responded with, don’t stop lover, I have only just begun. I need many more like that!
David had also stopped at that same moment and I complained similarly. He restarted his deep strokes thrusting rhythmically into my welcoming and now beautifully clean love pot. I adjusted my position so that his cock made more contact with my G spot prostate. At this new angle, I started to understand how Lola must feel when she hands free orgasms in her movies. Unfortunately, my latent maleness made me wish that I could release my cock to play with it. I had to get used to that pleasure being no longer available to me. Remember, you are a girl, I thought, enjoy girly pleasures.
Skylar had another cum and squirted even more piss into my mouth, so much so that I could not swallow it all and a wet patch was forming on the bed; but I did not care. My mind was on my hidden cock/clittie as it was beginning to dribble.
“One more time,” Skylar said, “then David can fill your man pussy with his creamy love juice and make your experience complete too.”
I was on cloud nine, almost detached from my body, floating relaxed, being taken while giving my all to pleasuring this sensational beautiful, yet bizarre, female sexpot. I wanted so much to love her and I wanted so much to pleasure my man and to receive my reward when he shot his love-seed deep inside me. My shemale juices began to flow and flow from my cockette, creating a new messy pool on the bed. My body relaxed a little as my mangina tried to get his shaft even deeper inside. Now, Skylar called, as her body writhed and David thrust harder and faster into me. I took it all and finally, his cock swelled to bursting point and he shot his warm love juice deep into me as Skylar’s piss overflowed my mouth and the rest fountained into the air and landed like golden rain all over us.
“Now that was good fucking,” Skylar said, as we all began to recover. Then, addressing me, she said, “it will get even better when your body has changed so that we can enjoy proper female intimacy. I realise that you need to wait until the hormones have worked before your boobs are enhanced but why not get your hips and bum done straight away, then you will not have to hide so much of your body from your lovers.”
Good idea, I thought.
With no hair to mess up and no sloppy mouth sex to spoil her look. Skylar retouched her lipstick, zipped up her leggings and was as good as new. While David was having a nap on the bed, I repaired my makeup and brushed my hair. Skylar watched intently, then said, I will have to leave with David as he is driving but I will return at 10 o’clock tomorrow to help you with your appearance and to enjoy some more girly sex together.
David stirred, dressed, and as we all moved towards the front door, they both gave me passionate goodbye kisses. Squeezing me tightly, as he kissed me, David said, “I love the feel of your tight corset. It is so sexy to feel such a sexy body being controlled.”
As a parting shot, Skylar said, “why don’t you order some Domperidone so that, as the hormones make your breasts grow, you will also be able to produce milk in them. I will love sucking your nipples and enjoying your milk, even while they are still small titties.”
As I closed the door behind them I, at last, felt that my new life had begun and could not wait for the rest of it to evolve.