Gromet's PlazaTG/CD Stories

Yard Sale

by Lilithtv

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© Copyright 2015 - Lilithtv - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-M; FM; cd; fem; latex; mask; corset; heels; nylons; body-mold; smoking; oral; sex; climax; cons; X

When Walter Fox bought his used Honda, he joked that the only accessory he needed was a bumper sticker that said, "I stop for Garage Sales!"

Not that Walter was a suburbanite with a tract house and two kids. Far from it. Walter was an inveterate rummage sale fan because of his secret life as a cross-dresser.

He had been surreptitiously wearing women’s clothes since he was 16 and, home alone for a few hours, had first tried on one of his older sister’s brassieres and panties on a spur-of-the moment whim.

As soon as he felt the constriction of the old-fashioned Playtex long-line bra, he had started to get an erection. When he slipped the silky panties up his thighs and into place on his hips, it had become even more pronounced.

By the time he was finished, he had donned a pair of nylons, a slip, one of his sister’s A-line dresses, a pair of his mother’s high-heeled shoes and her "party hair," a brunette wig styled in an upsweep with loosely curled bangs. He finished off with complete make-up: foundation, blush, lips and eyes.

Looking at himself, transformed from an awkward boy into an attractive teenaged girl, was the most exciting sexual experience he had ever had -- even more so than making out with a girlfriend in the back row of the local drive-in theater. He had been a closet transvestite ever since, and his wardrobe -- courtesy of the garage and yard sales he checked out religiously -- had grown larger and larger until it filled his entire closet with lingerie, shoes, wigs, make-up and street clothes.

But at 23, Walter had still never gone out in public as a woman, nor had he found the nerve to buy ladies’ clothing in department stores or boutiques. His passion for transformation remained solitary, and he was deeply and painfully shy about his desire to masquerade as a female. Not that he looked bad. In fact, at 5 feet 8 inches and only 135 pounds, he was quite passable as a woman. He had learned sophisticated makeup techniques from women’s magazines and the Internet, and had grown quite skillful at turning himself into a counterfeit 20-something woman who would be accepted without hesitation by almost any other female – and virtually all men.

Nonetheless, after two years of living in his own studio apartment as a college student, he still satisfied his urge to acquire feminine apparel by purchasing items anonymously from rummage tables and thrift shops, and wearing them only in the privacy of his apartment.

Which was how he came to pull up outside the large Victorian house on the outskirts of his college community late that spring afternoon. The sign tacked to a telephone pole in front said "Yard Sale," but Walter had already spotted folding tables heaped with clothing and additional items -- including a variety of dresses -- hanging on a rack near the porch.

A young woman wearing T-shirt and blue denim overalls was sitting on the front step, an open hardback book in her lap. She watched him over the tops of her dark glasses as he got out of his car and approached.

"Mind if I nose around?" he asked with a friendly smile.

"Suit yourself," she responded, her voice a smoky tenor with a disconcertingly sexy purr at its bottom. "There are other items in the garage back on the side."

Walter smiled inwardly at her choice of words; that was exactly what he intended to do.

Walter picked over the clothing on the table and was surprised to find several things he really liked. Among them were a black satin Merry Widow and a pair of black patent ankle strap spikes with four-inch heels that he was stunned to see were size tens -- big enough to fit him comfortably. He had less luck with the dresses on the rack. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, he decided to buy the shoes and bustier, and he approached the young woman, uncertain about how she would respond to the items he had selected.

"I’ll take these, I think," he said hesitantly. "How much do you want for them?"

She held the Merry Widow up for examination. "Very pretty," she said. "You can have the bustier for $5. As for the shoes -- hmmm -- how about another five-spot?"

Walter couldn’t believe his luck. Such a low price for such sexy items. "That ... That’s great," he said, pulling his billfold out to pay her.

The young woman removed her sunglasses, revealing incredibly blue eyes that were almost the shade of cornflowers. She looked at him appraisingly.

"Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try the shoes on before you pay for them?" she asked in a friendly tone. "There are some knee high stockings in that little basket over there -- if you aren’t wearing nylons."

"N-no, thanks," Walter stammered. "I’m sure they are my size."

The young woman flashed a smile as he handed her a ten. Patting his hand gently as she took the money, she added, "I think you really might want to take a look in the garage before you leave. There are some items in there that might interest you, considering what you have already picked."

Walter swallowed hard. He was sure this girl had figured out that he was a transvestite. Before he could respond, she reached out and patted him gently on his cheek.

"Go ahead," she coaxed. "You can leave those things here if you’d rather not walk around with them. I’ll put them in a bag for you, just to be discreet."

Blushing, Walter handed the shoes and lingerie to her and mumbled his thanks. Totally intrigued by her open invitation, he turned and walked up the driveway to the Victorian’s unattached coach house.

Although the garage door was wide open, the interior was somewhat dark and it took several minutes for his eyes to get used to the gloom. When they had, what he saw fairly took his breath away.

On a rack along the side were a number of things that could only be described as fetish wear: a sleek-looking column dress made of red PVC and two black satin maid’s outfits, complete with lacy hats and frilly aprons. Near them was a shiny black latex catsuit with a back zipper and mock turtle neckline, and several pairs of what Walter called "Come Fuck Me" shoes, with teeteringly tall heels.

The item that caught his eye immediately, however, was on a shelf in the rear: it looked at first like a molded plastic wigstand, only without a wig mounted on it. When he drew closer, he could see that it was an extraordinarily detailed mask of a woman’s head, made to cover the wearer from shoulders to crown.

He picked the exotic item up, noting that the mask itself was on a plastic wig form. It seemed to be made of some sort of very flexible molded rubber and had a zipper running down its back from the top of the head to the loose flap that was designed to hang over the wearer’s shoulders.

"Beautiful, isn’t it," came the young woman’s voice behind him.

Walter wheeled around, to find her standing behind him, holding the bag with his earlier purchases. He was both surprised and slightly ashamed to be caught examining the mask so minutely by this attractive young woman. He was afraid she would think he was perverted -- which, in a way, he was.

"Uh, well -- yes," he stuttered, trying to think. "What on earth is it?"

She stepped forward and took the mask from his hands, hefted it and unzipped the back, slipping it easily off the wig form.

"It’s a female mask, silly," she responded with a smile, holding the open hood up for his inspection. "It’s made of molded latex and all the details have been airbrushed in. Take a look at the inside."

Walter hesitantly took the mask from her hands and opened the back. The eyes of the mask had small holes in the center of the pupils so the wearer could see through the molded and amazingly lifelike painted eyes. The inside of the nose had two small rubber hoses molded into the nostrils. They were obviously designed to fit inside the wearer’s own nose as breathing tubes so that none of the wearer’s skin would be visible. The lips had a flexible latex flange that was clearly intended to fit between the inside of the wearer’s lips and gums, so that only the molded dark red latex lips of the mask could be seen when the wearer spoke or smiled.

"It’s . . . it’s incredible," Walter said finally, aware that his engorged penis was straining inside his jeans. The mask seemed incredibly erotic to him. No one would ever be able to discern the identity of the person who had it on. Whether an aging crone or a bearded man, once zipped snugly inside it, he or she would simply appear to be an extraordinarily attractive woman in her early twenties. The face was a movie star beautiful with thick false eyelashes, thin, neatly arched brow, high aristocratic cheekbones, sensual full lips and cornflower blue eyes remarkably similar to those of the young woman herself.

"How . . . how much do you want for it?" he asked, dreading her answer. He guessed that the mask was handmade and one-of-a-kind -- at least, he had never seen anything like it in a costume shop. He expected her to quote a price in the hundreds of dollars -- which it almost certainly would be worth in a sex boutique or Halloween shop.

The young woman smiled again. "Oh, I think $20 would be fair, don’t you?" She said as she held the mask up for him to view, face on. "It took a couple of weeks for me to mold and that was after I had sculpted the bust that the plaster castings were made from. The materials probably cost about $20 all by themselves, but I didn’t make it as a commercial project in the first place, so I will be glad to get the cost of the materials back."

Walter was stunned. "You made this yourself?" he asked.

She held the mask out to him with a nod. "Sure," she said. " I do commercial and fine art both. The commercial stuff is mostly welded iron furniture and a lot of molded plastic pieces. It’s more than enough to pay my bills. The fine arts items are all gravy -- I do them for myself, although the number of people who want to purchase them from me has been growing in the last couple of years."

As he took the mask back from her and examined it closely, she continued.

"This really didn’t fit into either category," she said. "I made the mask for . . . for somebody special. Unfortunately, he moved on to other things and I ended up with it taking up space in my house."

Walter was intrigued at her use of the pronoun "he."

"This is your place?" he asked in surprise. "I mean -- you live here all by yourself?"

She nodded, still smiling. "I do now," she said. "My ex-boyfriend used to stay here with me, but he . . . he went through some heavy changes and moved out nearly a year ago. That’s part of the reason why I am selling all this stuff: to clear out the house and make a sort of new start."

Walter zipped the mask back up around the wig form and pulled out his wallet to pay for it. "I’ll take it," he said, smiling back at her. Her candor put him at ease and her story about the mask left him with the impression that her ex-boyfriend had been the "someone special" she had made it for. He sensed that his secret was safe with her, and he felt strangely relieved that he had finally shared it with someone -- and that it had been this attractive young woman who had apparently accepted it so matter-of-factly.

She took the $20 bill he offered and tucked it into one of the pockets of her overalls. "If you wear it with a high collar and a longish wig, you can’t see the zipper at all," she said gesturing toward the latex hood. "The way I designed it, the casual passerby won’t notice that it isn’t your real face unless they look very closely, or watch long enough to notice that you don’t blink. Even that is hard to see if you wear a pair of dark glasses with the mask. The lips are made to move when you open your mouth to talk, smoke, drink or eat. It’s really sort of eerie to see somebody wearing it for an extended period of time."

Walter’s smile broadened as she made it clear she knew what he intended to do with the mask. She obviously had deduced he was a transvestite, yet her open manner made it equally clear that she did not care -- in fact, that she considered it normal.

"Thanks very much, uh, Ms. . . ." he looked at her questioningly.

"Oops! Sorry!" she said with a laugh, extending her hand. "I’m Janine Bailey."

"Hi, Janine," he said as he took her cool, soft hand in his own. "I’m Walter Fox. I’m very glad to meet you."

Just then, a car pulled up in front and an older woman got out and began to examine the sale items near Janine’s porch.

"I’m glad to meet YOU, Walter," Janine said with a wink, her emphasis making it clear she did not mean strictly as a customer for her yard sale. "You’ll have to excuse me -- I need to see what this woman wants."

As she started to walk back out of the garage she turned suddenly back to him. "You know," she said, as if a thought had just occurred to her, "there are some other things that . . . well, they go with the mask. I didn’t put them out today because I wasn’t sure anyone would be interested in them. Actually, I wasn’t even sure I would be able to find a buyer for the mask."

She fished a business card out of her overalls and handed it to him. It had her name, address and telephone number on it. Under her name was the single word: "Plastic Materials Fabricator."

"If you decide you want to take a look at them, come by later this evening after the sale is over," she said, flashing her lovely smile again. She added provocatively, "I’d love to give you a private showing. Who knows, perhaps you might find . . . something you like."

Walter smiled his thanks. "I will," he said as he started toward his own car. "How about 7 p.m.?"

She nodded her agreement as he climbed back into his car. "See you tonight," she said as she waved goodbye.

As soon as he reached his apartment, Walter excitedly prepared to try on his yard sale purchases. He removed his clothes quickly and tossed them on the bed, then paused in front of his full-length dressing mirror to examine his naked body critically.

Walter was short for a man but still on the tall side for a woman, particularly when wearing heels. His body was slender and slight, with an underdeveloped musculature that let him wear women’s clothing easily and comfortably. For the last year, he had taken to using a depilatory to remove all his body hair, leaving his skin soft and smooth. He felt the only real physical flaws that preventing him from achieving a completely feminine transformation were his narrow hips and flat buttocks.

He slipped into a pair of black satin panties and pulled them up, tucking his genitalia between his legs so the underwear could hold it back snugly. Next he put on the Merry Widow, enjoying the garment’s tightness as he fastened the hooks that lined its front. He rolled a pair of seamed black stockings up over his legs and clipped them to the garters dangling from the bustier, then strapped on the black patent leather pumps.

Examining himself closely in his mirror, he admired the sleek lines of the Merry Widow and the fetish look of the stiletto heels. He tucked a pair of silicone-filled breast forms into the cups of the bustier, adjusted the shoulder straps, and then turned to the mask with growing excitement.

As he slipped the latex hood off the wigstand, he marveled again at its perfection. The skin of the mask was incredibly smooth and as richly colored as that of a real woman, with beautifully molded details -- even tiny laugh lines at the corner of the mask’s blue eyes and a raised "beauty mark" on the upper right cheek.

He pulled the mask over his face, struggling a little to stretch the top over the crown of his head. Adjusting the features slightly, he slipped the breathing tubes inside his own nostrils, noting that they fit comfortably and allowed him to breathe without difficulty. It was easy to fit the flange inside the mouth between his gums and lips, and after he had done so, he pulled the mask’s zipper tightly shut down the back of his new latex head.

Even without donning a wig, the transformation was fantastic! The bottom of the mask draped over his shoulders loosely, but the rest of the hood was absolutely skintight and amazingly lifelike. Except for the staring blue eyes, anybody looking at Walter would swear he was an extremely attractive -- if totally bald -- woman.

"A blond wig, I think," he said to his reflection, enjoying the way the voluptuous lips of his new latex mouth formed the words back at him.

He selected a shoulder length bobbed style and pulled it over the mask’s smooth crown, shaping and smoothing it into place with a wide-toothed comb.

With the hair on, the transformation was complete. The holes in the mask’s eyes were small enough to be almost invisible, but large enough to give him surprisingly unrestricted vision. He paraded back and forth in front of the mirror, getting used to walking in his new shoes and delighting in the stunningly attractive image of femininity his new purchases had given him.

"Fantastic!" he said to the mirror, watching the full red lips of the mask move as he spoke. He smiled and the incredibly flexible latex face smiled back at him. He fished a cigarette from a box on his bedroom side table, placed it in his mouth and lit it with a match, watching the attractive young woman in the mirror as she did precisely the same thing.

"Wow!" he said, exhaling a thin stream of smoke from the nostrils of the mask. "If I didn’t know better, I would swear you were someone else altogether. This is simply wonderful!"

He noticed that he could easily turn his head from side to side, nod and make other facial gestures without distorting his rubber female features in the slightest. In short, the mask was surprisingly comfortable and almost indistinguishable from a real woman’s face. Janine had been right -- he could walk right past someone he knew well without them recognizing him or knowing that he was anything but a lovely woman.

He sat down and crossed his legs in a ladylike fashion, watching his reflection in the mirror as he finished his cigarette. The mask opened up an entire new world to him. Part of the reason he had been so reluctant to venture out in public as a woman was his secret irrational fear that someone he knew would see and recognize him. The mask made that impossible. If his best friend saw him walking down the street wearing it, he would never guess that Walter’s own face was under those gorgeous female features.

Suddenly he was overwhelmed with the urge to try his new face in public. He rose, stubbed out his cigarette and slipped into a hot pink turtleneck top and a gray wool skirt, cinching a wide patent belt around it. He kept the jewelry to a minimum: a small gold lady’s watch and a charm bracelet of gold colored metal on his other wrist were sufficient. Then, on a whim, he clipped a pair of large golden hoops to the mask’s ears.

Selecting a large black shoulder bag from his closet, he emptied his wallet, coins and keys into it, took a deep breath and stepped out of his apartment for his first public appearance as a woman.

As he walked down stairs into the garage where his car was parked, he briefly had second thoughts about the wisdom of his actions. But when a neighbor with a bag of groceries passed him on the landing, smiled and said "Hello," Walter’s doubts vanished entirely. He smiled back and, responded, "Good afternoon! How are you today?" in a low, breathy soprano.

The neighbor, a middle-aged man who lived in an apartment on Walter’s floor, beamed. "Actually, just seeing you has made my day a great deal better," he said, ducking his head. "Have a good one!"

Walter’s heart soared. His first encounter in the real world as a girl and he had passed muster. It was almost as if the mask had taken over his personality, rendering him both more feminine and more self-confident.

As he slid into his little car, he suddenly realized he had no idea what to do or where to go. The sun was almost down and evening’s shadows were beginning to spread. Walter glanced at his little watch and saw that it was nearly 7 p.m.

He thought of Janine. "Well, she invited me to come over, didn’t she?" he asked himself. She had clearly expected him and said she had "some other items that went with the mask."

His penis, already hard with sexual excitement under his dainty panties as the result of his so far successful as a woman, throbbed as he thought of seeing the cool, self-assured blonde again. He made up his mind immediately and set a course for her old Victorian house.

The porch light was on when Walter arrived. He pulled his little Honda up into her driveway, glanced at his perfect latex lady’s face in the mirror, then took a deep breath and climbed her front porch, steeling himself for what was already shaping up as one of the most remarkable experiences of his life.

She answered her bell with a blankly quizzical expression that made it clear she was surprised to find a tall blond stranger on her porch.

"May I help you?" she asked, peering at the female face before her as if it somehow seemed familiar. Suddenly the shock of recognition swept over her and she clapped her hand to her mouth, laughing, "Oh, my God!"

"Hi, again," Walter said, turning the mask’s full lips up in a smile. "I see you remember me now. May I come in?"

She grabbed his arm and drew him inside. "Of course," she said giggling with delight. "You wore it! Fantastic! Step into the light so I can see you better."

Closing the door, she led him under the ornate overhead light and circled slowly around him, inspecting the mask and the rest of his apparel with her chin cupped in her hand.

"It really fits you perfectly, Walter," she said finally with a broad grin. "I’m sorry for the dumb look when I opened the door but I wasn’t expecting any woman visitors tonight -- particularly not any as beautiful as you! I knew the face was familiar, but I couldn’t place it at first. The mask looks so completely different when someone is wearing it -- it takes on a life of its own."

She reached out and touched the side of Walter’s latex face gently, stroking down the chin of the mask as if checking the surface for any imperfections. Janine’s gentle caress made the penis tucked inside his panty throb with sexual arousal. Here he was, out in public as a woman. Under normal circumstances, that would have been almost more excitement than he could handle. But better still; here he was in the presence of an extraordinarily beautiful woman, who was treating him in an openly friendly manner, even though she knew he was a counterfeit. On top of everything else, she had made the fabulous mask that had helped him make the transformation from a man into a believable woman. He found the entire situation incredibly erotic.

Janine took one of his hands in hers and led him to a large leather couch in her living room.

"Sit down, honey," she said tenderly as she sank onto the sofa and pulled him beside her. "How does it feel? Are you comfortable wearing it?"

Walter was so close to her that their knees touched. "It feels absolutely wonderful," he said, waving his hand in a dainty and feminine gesture of emphasis. "It’s almost like I’m not wearing anything at all on my face. It looked so amazingly realistic I had to try it on. I hope you don’t mind me wearing it over?"

Janine, still grinning from ear to ear, shook her head gently and patted him on his nylon-encased thigh.

"Not at all," she said. "I’m absolutely delighted. It’s so great to see someone wearing it again. After all, that’s what I made it for."

She opened a large sandalwood box on the low table before the sofa, revealing that it was neatly stacked with filter-tipped cigarettes. "Join me?" she asked as she drew one out. "I’m afraid I am hooked."

"Don’t mind if I do," said Walter, extracting one and placing it between his red latex lips while she set it aflame with a large silver table lighter. Exhaling smoke, he leaned back beside her and crossed his legs so their thighs were pressed together.

She smoked silently for a moment, watching him with satisfaction. "Wow!" she said finally. "I simply can’t tell you how fantastic you look."

Walter tapped ash into a large crystal tray and shook his head, his blond hair swirling gently around his perfect rubber face. "I was totally blown away myself," he said. "I put it on and was simply overwhelmed by a desire to go out in public wearing it. It’s like you said -- you put it on and it takes on a life of its own."

He paused and added, "To be perfectly honest, it’s the first time I’ve ever gone out dressed like this. I never had the nerve before. When I put on the mask, all my fears seemed to drain away. It was like I was a completely different person."

She smiled. "Well, you certainly look like one," she said. "If I hadn’t made the mask and sold it to you myself, I would never have recognized you."

Walter took another drag from his cigarette and blew a thin stream of smoke in the air with his perfect rubber lips. "If it isn’t too personal, would you tell me why you made it -- and who you made it for?" he asked.

Janine rested her head on the back of the couch, her eyes half closed. "It’s kind of a long story," she said slowly, taking another puff on the cigarette and letting the smoke drift from her sensuous mouth back into her nostrils in a lazy French inhale. "Have you ever been deeply in love with someone -- so much so that it made you completely crazy?"

Walter shook his head, conscious of the movement of his earrings and blond hair.

"Well, I was," she continued, staring off into the middle distance as if remembering the entire affair. "I fell in love with a man named Charles -- we met at a party a lesbian girlfriend of mine was throwing. Charles was introduced to me as the gay lover of another man I knew slightly. He was gorgeous -- well built but not too heavily muscled, slim, and not too tall. Most of all, he had these absolutely beautiful eyes. When he looked at me I thought he was staring right down into my soul.

"I thought it was just a case of terribly bad luck," she continued after a moment’s pause. "I was immediately seriously attracted to him and it looked like one of those hopeless situations where the person you decide you really want to be with is somehow completely off limits. I mean, first of all, I thought he was gay, and second, I thought he was already involved with somebody else."

Walter felt a tinge of irrational jealously, listening to her speak about this stranger, but he was fascinated and pressed her to continue. "You say you ‘thought’ he was gay and you ‘thought’ he was involved with somebody else," he said carefully. "What do you mean, ‘thought?’"

Janine turned to him and smiled, studying his masked face with pleasure. "I must have said something to indicate my disappointment when he was introduced as someone who already was in a relationship," she said. "Anyway, he told me right away that our hostess hadn’t quite got it right. He was bisexual, not gay, he told me, and he had just broken up with the man he was living with because after a couple of months together, it became obvious that there was really nothing between them but sex."

Janine’s face glowed with the reminiscence. "We spent the rest of the night talking together," she said. "He drove me home and I fixed us a nightcap of coffee and brandy. He ended up spending the night -- but sleeping on the couch downstairs, not in my bed. The next day was a Sunday and we spent it together, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. We talked all day long, about books, movies, places we had been and things we had done. He fixed dinner for us that night, and by the time we turned in -- this time in my bed -- I felt like we were made for each other."

Janine sat up and took a deep puff from her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.

"So what happened then," Walter asked, watching her carefully through the staring blue eyes of the mask.

Janine shrugged slightly. "He moved in with me and at first things were just perfect," she said. "We made love beautifully and often, and were very much the young couple in love. Then, after several weeks, I noticed a slight change in our relationship. Finally, I asked him what was wrong.

"He told me he hadn’t been quite honest with me about his sexuality. He said he wasn’t just bisexual, but also felt transgendered -- that his psyche was female, even though his body was male. He told me he had always wanted to be a woman, and the real reason why his last lover had broken up with him was because he had become obsessed with developing a female persona. He had started doing drag and hanging around bars that catered to cross-dressers and drag queens. His lover, who was gay but fairly conservative, didn’t handle it well, and told him to get out. Something about, ‘if you want to be a woman, go find a man who wants one.’"

"He said that he loved me very much, but feared that his love was becoming almost more like that of a sister for a sister, rather than that of a man for a woman. He still loved me very deeply, but had almost stopped having sexual feelings for me. When we made love, he said, it almost seemed like incest to him.

"He said he was still very much unresolved about his gender identity, and wanted to try living as a woman for a while, to find out whether he really wanted to have the change.

"Well, I told him that his gender identity didn’t matter to me -- that I was certain I would have fallen in love with him whether he had been a man or a woman when we first met. I asked him if he would like to try living with me as my female roommate and he said he would give it a try."

Janine lit another cigarette and let the smoke trail from her nostrils. "To be perfectly honest, I was afraid I was going to lose him," she said. "It wasn’t so much that I was concerned about losing the great sex we were having together -- although it was extraordinarily good. I was more concerned about losing the symmetry of our life. It just seemed that our life together was so -- so complete, I didn’t want to lose any part of it."

She looked at him quizzically, as if trying to penetrate behind the placid, cool blue eyes of his mask. "Am I making any sense at all?" she asked.

Walter gently placed his hand on her thigh. "Perfectly," he said comfortingly, stroking her leg slowly in a reassuring way. "Please, go on."

She scooted a little closer to him on the sofa with a smile. "Thanks," she said. "It’s just, well -- without being able to see your eyes, its kind of hard to tell whether you are sympathetic or think I am some sort of crazy woman."

Walter smiled again and leaned toward her impulsively, surprising himself. He brushed his latex lips against hers, and then kissed her gently but passionately. He could feel her lips pressing back, and the coolness of her hand on the latex "skin" at the back of his neck. As he kissed her, he cupped his hand under the roundness of her left breast, noticing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She murmured something, then darted her tongue inside his mouth with a sigh.

They did not break for several minutes. When they did, Janine snuggled beside him with a contented smile. "I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I was kissed like that," she said happily.

Walter sighed himself. "I’ve never been kissed like that at all -- and I’ve certainly never kissed anyone else that way," he said, a little shocked at his boldness in making the admission to someone he barely knew.

They held each other in silence for a while, then Walter spoke: "So, what became of Charles?"

Janine nuzzled his latex face, just under the cheek. "Charles became Charlotte from that day on," she said. "He was en femme 24-7, and he was really very good as a woman. He had the voice and deportment down just about pat, and he made a remarkably striking female, whether he wore a dressy gown or jeans and a sweater.

"But he was never satisfied with his appearance. For some reason, he always was able to see the boy inside the makeup and clothing -- even when others couldn’t. He became quite obsessed about his appearance, and there were days when he wouldn’t leave the house -- not even to go to the grocery store."

Janine took another drag on her cigarette. "That’s when I decided to make the mask," she said. "I thought that if I could give him a completely flawless face, perhaps he could move past his obsession with appearance. I made the molds for the mask and at the same time, I designed some other . . . other garments to go with them. I presented the whole shooting works to him all at once, on the three-month anniversary of our being together."

Exhaling smoke, Janine seemed lost in thought again. Walter squeezed her shoulder. "So then what happened?" he asked.

Janine shook herself out of her reverie and smiled, staring deep into the mask’s ice-blue eyes. "He loved them, and began wearing them quite a lot. But he still couldn’t get over his feeling that everyone on the street was reading him as a man masquerading as a woman. He got so he wouldn’t go out of the house unless he was wearing the mask -- and the other things I made for him. It was as if he didn’t want to deal with what he really looked like any more.

"I was concerned, but also relieved that he was still with me," she said. "I wanted us to stay together so badly I didn’t care whether he wore the mask all the time -- even in bed. In fact, when we slept together, even though we didn’t do much, I found his latex woman’s persona something of a turn-on. I guess I am something of a fetishist, myself.

"Anyway, I kept hoping that he would snap out of it and we could just go on being together," she said, sighing deeply. "He never did. One day I woke up and he was gone. He had left everything behind. There was a note on the dining table saying he had decided to go through with having the change, and was moving to Colorado to establish himself as a woman and begin pre-surgical therapy."

Walter felt sadness at Janine’s deep sense of loss, but inwardly was elated that Charles was out of the picture. He was falling in love with Janine himself, and was very happy not to have a rival in the picture.

"Have you heard anything from him since then?" he asked.

Janine shook her head. "No," she said. "A friend of mine told me that he was scheduled for the final surgery a couple of months ago, but he never did get back in touch."

She looked up at Walter’s cool blue latex eyes. "I guess he decided he wasn’t a lesbian after all."

There were additional moments of silence, and then Janine stirred. "I invited you over because there were some things that went with the mask," she said, giving him a thoughtful look. "Would you like to see them?"

Walter inclined his head. "I’d love to," he said. "You haven’t said exactly what they are . . . "

She rose, pulling him to his feet by his hands. "Come on," she said. "I’ll show you!"

Janine led him upstairs on an impromptu tour, pointing out her studio and bedroom on the way to a large suite on the second floor that boasted a canopy bed and sofa. In the room was a large overstuffed chair, a small vanity and mirror, a chest of drawers and an immense walk-in closet lined with dresses, several wig stands with hair and a chest of drawers.

"This was Charles’ room," she said. "He left all his things behind. You are about his height and build and I bet most of them would fit you."

A large chest was on the floor opposite a rack with more than a dozen pairs of women’s shoes. Janine knelt to open it and extract some items from its dark interior.

Spreading them on the bed, she stepped back so he could see.

One was a woman’s torso that appeared to be made of real skin. When Walter bent closer to look, he could see that it was actually the same miraculous latex as the mask, only molded to form a complete female body, from the vagina to the neck. Two large breasts had been molded into the form, and when Walter touched them, he could feel that they were filled with silicone breast forms like those worn by women who have had mastectomies. The hips and buttocks had similar gel-filled padding, and the torso’s trunk had been fashioned with concealed steel boning like a corset, designed to shape and slim the wearer’s body.

"Like it?" Janine asked? "I made it like the mask -- my own design, I might add."

She held the garment up so the rear was toward Walter. Down the back, concealed by a flap of flesh-colored latex, was an invisible zipper that ran almost to the buttocks. She slid the zipper down to show that inside the torso, directly behind the molded vagina, was a carefully molded sac that would serve as a combination gaff and channel for urination. The wearer could sit on a toilet in full view and urinate in a natural feminine fashion while wearing the torso, although the inside of the garment would have to be carefully washed afterward.

Walter noted that the urination sac also doubled as the interior to the vagina, and was made so that the wearer could convincingly simulate full vaginal penetration during intercourse, should the need arise.

"Would you like to try it on?" Janine asked hesitantly.

"I’d love to," Walter said. "I can see now why you didn’t put this out with the other things in the garage. A lot of that stuff was kinky, but something like this would take quite a bit of explaining for the casual garage sale customer!"

Walter kicked off his stiletto heels and slipped out of the skirt and top he was wearing. With Janine’s help, he removed his merry widow, panties, stockings and breast forms, then stepped into the legs of the torso and wriggled it up over his own masculine body.

For some reason, he did not feel at all self-conscious about stripping in front of this unusual young woman. Perhaps it was partially because she had shared her fantasies with him, partially because he had shared his with her. It created a circle of intimacy quite unlike anything he had ever experienced.

The torso was made to fit very snugly, and it required considerable effort for Janine to pull the zipper all the way up in back. When the garment was completely in place, Walter could only marvel: for all intents and purposes, his male body was completely gone, replaced by a latex replica of a woman’s trunk, complete with wide, well-formed hips, ample, smoothly curved buttocks. It gave him a beautiful 38-B bustline, complete with firm but jiggly breasts.

He pirouetted in front of a full-length mirror on the wall and turned to her with delight. "This is utterly fantastic," he said excitedly. "It feels just like part of my body -- and it is so incredibly feminine. I can easily understand why he did not want to take it off."

Janine smiled broadly. "I am so glad you like it," she said. "Here, let’s put your other clothes back on."

She helped him back into his lingerie and stockings and he slipped back into his top, skirt, belt and shoes.

When he was completely dressed he stood in front of the mirror, marveling at the way the rubber torso enhanced his figure. Sideways, his butt had a fully round appearance, and the gel-filled hips gave him a delightful hourglass figure. The merry widow pushed up his soft breasts, resulting in a deep, sexy cleavage that was so wonderfully womanly he was almost reluctant to pull his top back over it!

He sat at the vanity while Janine brushed his hair out gently. Feeling utterly feminine and totally aroused, he sighed as she finished primping him.

"This is so wonderful," he said in his breathy soprano. "I wish it would never end."

Placing her hands gently on his shoulders she smiled at his beautiful reflection in the mirror and gave him a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

"I don’t see why it has to," she said finally, as if making up her mind about something. Pulling a small chair next to him, she sat, taking his hands in her own.

"Do you find me attractive?" she asked earnestly. "I’m sorry -- I suppose I should be more indirect about this, but it frankly isn’t the way I do things. I’m asking because I was physically attracted to you from the moment you got out of your little car."

Walter almost couldn’t believe his ears. He felt his latex features compose themselves into a warm smile. "Attractive doesn’t begin to describe how I find you," he said. "I think you are absolutely beautiful. I’ve been completely turned on since you opened the door this evening, and when you were just brushing my hair -- well, I hate to be blunt, but I almost had an orgasm."

Janine leaned forward and their lips gently met. Walter cradled her cheek with his hand gently as they kissed passionately, and he could feel his face warm inside the mask as he blushed with pleasure.

"I was hoping you would feel the same way I do, and it appears you do," she said in a whisper. "When you bought the bustier and shoes today, my heart jumped. When you were entranced by the mask, I began seriously to hope that against all odds, I had found another man who might become my perfect partner."

She paused a moment, looking at him in a way that made him feel she was seeing through the latex face he wore, down deep into his soul.

"Let’s make love," she said finally. "If this is the first time you have ever been out in the world as a woman, I want you to experience all the sensations you have been missing. I want to help you explore your new body and find the joy a woman knows from love. I want to help you in you exploration. I want to be your lover and help you become the woman you have always wanted to be."

Walter was completely overwhelmed. All he could do was incline his latex covered head in submission and joy. "I want you so much," he said. "I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I feel like we have been together for years. I wish we had.

"I would be deeply honored to have you as my lover," he added quietly. "This is the most thrilling experience I have ever had in my life, and I want to share it with you."

Janine undressed Walter slowly and voluptuously, running her hands over his smooth latex woman’s body until he gasped with desire. When he was naked down to his rubber skin, they climbed into the canopy bed together.

They made love gently and passionately. Walter teased her clitoris with his tongue until she climaxed, gasping, her thighs wrapped round his perfect woman’s face of latex. Then Janine returned the favor, licking and teasing his latex vagina with her own mouth and using her fingers to gently massage its molded orifice until Walter’s male genitals trapped inside were impossibly aroused. He came, shuddering, inside the rubber cocoon that snugly concealed his member.

Afterward, they rested in each other’s arms, touching and kissing each other in a mixture of erotic joy and wonder. After a time, Janine lit cigarettes for each of them, and they continued to lie in bed together, smoking silently and enjoying each other’s gentle caresses and warmth.

Finally, Janine rose and stubbed out her cigarette. "I told you that I wanted you to find the joy of being a woman, and I meant that completely," she said with a smile. "Stay right here – I will be right back."

She went into the large closet for a few moments and then came back, a slight flush on her face. In the half-light of the room, he could see that she now looked completely different from the navel down – she now had a large, fully erect penis that jutted from her crotch.

"I molded Charles’s body in plaster in order to make the torso," she said as she slipped into bed beside Walter. "I wanted to make sure that everything would fit him perfectly. When he still lived here, I molded my impressions of his own genitalia into a pair of thick latex panties that I could wear sometimes when we made love – so that I could enter him like a man."

She slid her hand up Walter’s thigh and moved between his legs gently, guiding the latex penis into his latex vagina. The pressure of her body brought him to erection again almost instantly under his latex skin, and the sensation of the gentle in-and-out motion against his harnessed penis and scrotum was indescribably wonderful.

Walter drew Janine closer and kissed her passionately as she pumped into him with a smooth, well-practiced movement. After a few moments of her pressure, he climaxed again inside his rubber torso with a quaking shudder that brought a low moan of joy to his latex-covered lips. She skillfully continued to pump her false penis inside him until his climax was completely over, and then nestled close to him as he sagged back, his sexual tension spent.

"Oh, my God!" He said finally, in his breathy female voice. "That was utterly fantastic! I had fantasized being made love to as a woman before, but I never imagined it could be so wonderful."

She propped her head up on one hand and smiled at her latex female lover. "The best thing is, I can go all night long and never lose my erection," she grinned mischievously.

"Stay the night," she added, kissing him gently. "I will show you . . . "

Walter sighed with happiness. He had never felt this way before in his life. "Did you mean what you said before – about our being lovers?" he asked finally.

"Absolutely," she answered. "I fell in love with you the first time I saw you – just like Charles. And just like Charles, I will do anything for you. I hoped that you would feel the same."

He pulled her face down to his, her face a mirror of Walter’s own latex features. "Janine," he said with a sigh and a smile of passion. "I do."

As they held each other and drifted off to sleep, Walter marveled at his good fortune. A new face, a new body AND a new lover, all in one day. His life would never be the same again.

The End


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