Entrapment and Transformation

 

Story 1  

Entrapment and Transformation  

My wife is away and not returning until the day after tomorrow so I decided to enjoy a pub lunch in town before returning home to finish my work in the garden. I travel to town by bus so as not to limit my drinking and choose a pub new to me; I sit drinking looking out over a fine square with trees and colourful borders of flowers. As I have almost completed my first drink I spot, walking across the square, a beautiful woman who stops, looks across at the bar and decides to enter. I watch her buy her drink, survey the bar, her gaze scanning past me and then moving to a seat with her drink. Although I estimate her to be about 37 or 38 years old her beauty astounds me and, in my short lived freedom, I find it impossible to avoid feasting my eyes on her as she slowly and deliberately places her drink on her table, rests her hand bag on the seat beside her, sits and adjusts her fur stole eventually removing it from her shoulders and placing it with her hand bag. As she settles she confidently looks around the bar once again as she sips her drink. Her long wavy golden-blond hair caresses her shoulders and glistens as the outside sunlight floods through the bar from the window behind her. My drink now finished I move to the bar ensuring that I can keep her in vision while I wait to be served. As my drink arrives she slowly turns in my direction clearly aware that I am transfixed by her appearance. Our eyes meet and I am immediately embarrassed to have been discovered staring at her. I attend to paying for my drink and return to my table. As nonchalantly as possible I sip my drink wanting desperately to return my gaze towards her but I deliberately look the other way fearing her reaction to my stare. Eventually, sure that she can no longer be looking in my direction I turn with the intention of finally looking towards her again. To my amazement and embarrassment her attention has followed me to my seat and I find she is still looking towards me. Our eyes meet before I can look away. She smiles, a smile which sends a shiver down my spine and brings a flush to my cheeks. I try to smile back but my confidence fails me and I am compelled to look away and return to my drink which I consume rather too quickly.    On finishing my second drink I approach the bar already feeling a little intoxicated drinking as I am on an empty stomach. As I stand waiting to be served I become aware of a presence beside me. The beautiful woman is standing next to me, her presence signalled by her perfume which entrances me.  “Allow me,” she whispers in my ear, her breath sweet, sensual and warm against my skin. I turn to her, she smiles and I nervously attempt to respond but my voice fails me. In spite of my failure to speak she smiles, “Good,” and orders a bottle of expensive white wine with two glasses.  “Why don’t you join me at my table?” She pays for the wine and without waiting for an answer she turns away saying, “Would you bring the bottle and glasses?” I stutter my thanks, obediently collect the bottle contained in an ice bucket and in my efforts to also carry the glasses, I clumsily drop one which shatters as it hits the floor. She turns back, smiles and seductively says, “We must do something about your carelessness, mustn’t we?” I mumble an incoherent response, request another glass and turn to find her already seated at her table and watching closely every move I make. I nervously approach her and apologise too profusely but she says nothing and indicates that I should sit opposite her. I slowly sit once again transfixed by her beauty. She interrupts my gaze asking when I intend to pour her wine and again I apologise before extracting the bottle from the ice bucket. I gently pour the pale creamy liquid, first into her glass and then into mine. She raises her glass, I slowly raise mine. She leans forward and touches my glass with hers and I cannot help but notice her cleavage beneath her low cut top and she is only too aware of my gaze. As we sip our wine her eyes remain locked on mine, her sensuous lips curl to a smile. I try to respond but the word “Cheers” seems ridiculous and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.   The wine is cool and potent but I drink too quickly. My previous two drinks are beginning to tell and my head spins. Aware of this she refills my glass but smilingly declines to replenish hers. We say nothing but she watches me. My mind in a turmoil I again apologise, this time for my inability to engage in conversation. She insists that conversation is not necessary and that we are both aware of what is happening between us. I fight the feeling of anticipation growing within my imagination. There is a silence and then, as if reading my mind, she asks me if she is fulfilling a fantasy. I stumble over my response. “Tell me about it!” She smiles and leans forward again, aware that my view of her cleavage attracts me. I hesitate. “Don’t be shy,” she adds, “We are both adults and I really am interested in what’s behind that shy nervous expression of yours.” I hesitate again, fully aware of my own thoughts but unable to verbalize them. She fills my glass again and adds, “There’s no rush, just enjoy the wine.”  I drink and my gaze falls again to her breasts. She gently leans towards me resting on her elbows, her glass between both hands. My eyes return to hers and my breath fails me as she softly rolls her glass between the palms of her hands before placing her glass back on the table. “I enjoy men looking at me, I take it as a compliment,” she says softly, “There is no need to be embarrassed.” She analyses my gaze before asking, “You like them don’t you?” “Sorry,” I respond, ******* my head away to face her again, but she answers, “Don’t be, I am flattered.” “I’m sorry,” I pathetically stutter once again taking a further gulp from my glass which she promptly refills. “Rather than repeating yourself why don’t you answer my question?” Confused and not remembering the question, I stupidly ask, “I’m sorry, I ….” Then blatantly she responds, “What is it in particular that attracts you to stare at my breasts?” Shocked that the focus of my gaze has been so obvious I take a deep breath before responding. I am embarrassed and feel stupid and my confidence fails me; “Please forgive me…..er, look, I think it really is time I was going.” As I stand I thank her for the drink but she intervenes; “I would prefer it if you sat down.” I am shocked at the assertive tone in her voice and almost involuntarily sit again. She tops up my drink and almost snaps a repeat of her question; “What is your fascination with my breasts?” I stutter my pathetic response, “They’re beautiful.” “And?” she snaps. “I don’t know, I…I… .“  My mumblings and incoherence clearly amuse her as she leans towards me again across the table. I nervously take a gulp of my wine and finally summon up the courage to respond. “They are… soft, err, smooth…clear of any body hair…err… .” There are stirrings deep within me but I know I cannot tell her of my own repressed longings to have breasts. “Yes?” she prompts, smiles and waits but I can say no more. Eventually she continues, her eyes never leaving mine and I know she is enjoying my torment.  “Your reference to ‘hair’ surprises me - only men have hair on their chest.” She pauses again. “Do you have hair on your chest?” she asks, her lips curling into a smile which excites me into thinking that she is reading my thoughts. She leans further forwards and her fingers slowly move to my open necked shirt to undo two buttons allowing her a glimpse of my hairless chest. “So, you shave your chest, do you?” She smiles once again and fills my glass, the bottle nearly empty and my head swimming. I try to remember her taking a drink. “Excuse me - I’ll just get another bottle as you seem to be enjoying it so much.”  I try to indicate I have already had far too much but fail to impede her progress to the bar.   While waiting for her to return I desperately try to clear my head. Within minutes she is back and my glass is once again filled to the brim. I ask her to drink some wine and she concedes by pouring a small quantity into her glass. She sips while I drink with increasing abandon. As our conversation continues she seems more than able to put me at ease encouraging me to speak freely about myself. I find myself confessing my distaste of body hair and the lengths I had gone to in order to rid myself of some of it. I cannot believe that, after less than an hour, she has coaxed me into telling her that I shave my chest regularly and have recently started shaving my underarms. By the time I have consumed over half the second bottle my conversation is comfortable as the alcohol takes its toll of my senses. I even mention, no longer embarrassed as she smilingly encourages my confessions, that sometimes I even shave my pubic hair.    There is pause and I feel uncomfortable as she seems to be appraising me with her deep brown and mysterious eyes. I take a drink emptying my glass and swallow nervously. She smiles and refills my glass. Eventually she blatantly asks about my sex life and, in my unmistakably inebriated state I blurt out with some bitterness, “I have not made love to my wife in years!”    Suddenly, before I can start to explain and with the wine now almost gone she stands asking me to follow her. I try to stand but stumble before I can ask why. She gently supports me, collects her stole and hand bag with her other hand guides me towards the door. I do not resist. Outside she hails a taxi and, as the cabby opens the door for us, she makes a mild excuse for my drunken state and he helps me onto the rear seat. I vaguely hear her give an address and then gradually lean towards her, aware that my head is resting on her shoulder before my consciousness deserts me. I hear her give a satisfied sigh.   After some indeterminate time I am gently awakened from my alcoholic slumber and am supported out of the taxi by the unwilling driver who returns to his cab at the earliest opportunity. I am left swaying gently outside an elegant detached house with a gravel drive supporting myself against the remote controlled electric gate. There is no conversation. She enters the side gate and I follow her up the considerable drive struggling to walk upright on the gravel. She unlocks the front door and turns to support me inside. I stand swaying somewhat and my head spinning as she locks the door and then takes my arm to lead me to the sweeping staircase stretching before me. After leaving her stole on the newel post I am supported up the stairs the alcohol enforcing my obedience. A lurking anticipation begins to blossom in my loins and my heart begins to race as we reach the top and she turns and watches me with an expression I had hitherto not seen from her, a look which contains elements of pity, intolerance, but most of all a steely relentlessness which has a somewhat sobering effect on my drunkenness. I am lead into a bathroom and she moves around me to close the door. Leaning against it as if denying me an escape she says simply, “Take your clothes off for me.” My astonishment is complete but speechless I remain, my mouth open. “I asked you to remove your clothes,” she says, this time in a more assertive manner. “But I ……” I drunkenly stutter to a halt.  “Now!” she responds, softening the command by smiling sweetly as she sees my shocked expression. My inhibitions dampened by the alcohol, I slowly remove my clothing, one item at a time, exposing first my shaved chest and then my under arms. My shoes are set aside. As I am about to open the zip of my trousers, I hesitate but she insists I continue and, as my trousers fall to the ground, her face softens into gentle and seductive smile as she sees the cause of my embarrassment. Her smile increases as the bulge in my pants, albeit reduced by alcohol, and my embarrassment, grow. I pause.  “I am waiting,” is her response accompanied by a wry smile. I slowly lower my pants to expose hairless and boyish genitals. She stands and stares. My pants on the floor, I totter as I try to step out of them and my fledgling erection disappears leaving an even more boyish appearance. Her stare breaks into another smile as her eyes mockingly scan me. My heart skips a beat as she approaches softly saying, “My little boy – so nice and smooth! But I want you smooth all over.” Then, from the cabinet above the sink she takes a plastic container, white in colour with pink illustrations and printing. She turns and hands it to me with the simple instruction to enter the shower and spread the contents of the container liberally over my whole body, to wait some minutes and then shower it off clearing my skin with the supplied sponge. It is explained to me that cream will remove all remaining body hair and leave my skin soft and smooth. I hurriedly explain that although my wife has reluctantly accepted the removal of chest, underarm and occasionally pubic hair, she would not be happy about the removal of arm and leg hair. “For the time being and until I agree differently, I determine what you do!” She moves to the door, turns and instructs me to call her back when I have finished showering.   The excitement at the prospect of no body hair is considerable, something I have always desired and it percolates through my hazy consciousness. I choose to obey vaguely aware of my wife’s certain reaction and the questions which will undoubtedly be asked as to when, why and how I have removed all my body hair. I tremble as I enter the shower cubicle and apply the cream liberally to my whole body as I take support form the side of the cubicle as I drunkenly lean on it.  After some minutes have passed I turn on the shower and the cream, now contaminated by shrivelled remnants of my body hair is washed away. The transformation is amazing and I find it hard to believe the change in my appearance. I stroke my arms and legs to find them smooth and as silky as ever I found my wife’s skin and, as I rinse and caress my arms and legs, I revel as the sensuous experience is enhanced by my alcoholic state. The task complete I step out of the shower and reach for the soft towel to pat myself dry.    In the back of my mind there is concern as I consider the reason and the manner in which this woman brought me to this state.  I pull myself together considering that, whatever the reasons, I am enjoying the experience. The lingering remnants of this beautiful woman’s expensive perfume on the towel and the luxuriance of the moment entrance me as I wrap myself closer in her towel, close my eyes and revel in the moment.    It is time to call her as she requested and I call through the opened the door. She appears from her bedroom and I stand aside as she enters.  “Give me the towel,” she demands, holding out her hand. I hesitate in my embarrassment. More gently now she again requests that I hand her the towel and I relax somewhat. I slowly unwrap the towel and hand it to her at the same time covering myself with my hand. “Place your hands on your head while I inspect your efforts,” she instructs and I obey, the alcohol in my system still protecting me from complete embarrassment. Starting at my elbows and with a soft and gentle touch her hands slide over my whole body.   “So smooth! So girlie!” she purrs. I shiver as my erection begins to overcome the alcohol and her satisfaction shows. I want to cover myself but as my arms drop she demands that I keep them on my head. I feel totally vulnerable. “Perfect!” she sighs, “You have done well.” As she moves towards the door of the bathroom and exits I lower my hands to cover myself again but she soon returns saying, “I think a little feminizing perfume will help us on our way.” Failing to understand I remain still as she sprays a heady perfume behind my ears and across my chest. “There we are,” she smiles, “I know you will enjoy this scent for many hours to come.” The scent is perfection and a feminizing feeling floods my mind. Without removing her eyes from mine she takes my hand, removes it from my genitals and leads me out of the bathroom towards the bedroom from which I had seen her emerge.   I am lead through the open door and survey a beautifully appointed room until I see to my amazement and concern a cage with bars enamelled in white. Its base contains a white satin covered mattress of some depth. The cage is of a size suitable to accept a human being lying down but not high enough to stand in. I turn to her, she smiles. As she looks deep into my mind I know I will not resist. Moving past me to the cage and releasing the lock she opens the whole of one end of the cage and I dutifully fall to my hands and knees to enter. The soft satin covered mattress is comfortable. I freeze, close my eyes as I cannot believe the scenario in which I find myself. There is a pause before I hear the gate close and the lock catch. I quickly turn to resist but it is too late, I am imprisoned by this beautiful woman whose name I still do not know. She walks slowly and seductively to the window, she draws the curtains and then, as she approaches the door, she turns and says, “I shall leave you to sleep off the wine you have consumed. Oh, and by the way…” She moves to a drawer in her dressing table, opens it and removes something. Returning to the cage she smiles and drops the item through the top bars saying, “I thought you might like these.” With that she turns again to the door, exits and closes it finally leaving me with the sound of the turning key as the door to my outside world is locked.   I look for what she has left me. I reach for it and feel the soft satin material of what appears to be an item of clothing. Inspecting further I realise she has left me a pair of her panties. My heart skips a beat. I lift the soft material to my face – it is exquisite. I cannot resist and slowly put the panties on, sliding them slowly up my smooth legs. As they reach my crotch the feeling is wonderful and I close my eyes in sensuous delight. I wonder why I have never done this before and know that it is something I will be unable to resist in future. I lie back and close my eyes as I realise that this woman has detected my deep seated feminine leanings which for so long I have managed to repress.      When I awake I have no idea for how long I have slept. I blink and survey the darkened room initially shocked to find myself in this situation. The effects of the wine have receded leaving me with something of a headache. As I look about the darkened room I am totally equivocal about my situation. On the one hand I have enjoyed the sensuous delights I have experienced although remembered through a memory confused by alcohol but, on the other hand, I wonder about my immediate future, aware that tomorrow nobody will miss me but after that my wife will return. I wonder what time it is and remember my wife was to ring my mobile at 9pm. I consider the beautiful woman who now holds me captive. What are her intensions, what does she want from me, will she release me? I find myself longing for her return as I sit encaged in her darkened room, the scent of her perfume still tantalisingly reminding me that, for the time being, I am her captive.  Then, what about my wife’s call?   My thoughts are interrupted by the sounds downstairs. I listen and hear muffled voices in the hall. There is laughter, female laughter followed by further discussion. The sound of the voices is approaching - two women, chatting and laughing together. There is a pause and then a “Sssh!” and I hear the words, “He may be asleep.” I hear the key in the door and see the shaft of light from the landing as one woman enters slowly. “Hello, I thought you might be asleep. I have brought some one to see you. The second woman appears through the door. She is tall and slim with a striking face and high cheek bones framed by long, very straight and immaculately conditioned black hair. Turning on the light my captor says, “Go, take a closer look.” As she follows her friend she notices I am wearing her panties and smiles, “I see that you decided to wear them, I hope they feel nice against your skin; I think I was correct in my assessment of you, wasn’t I?” I am embarrassed again as my erection begins to show, no longer inhibited by alcohol.  The second woman is delighted and chuckles wickedly. “Is he obedient?” she asks. My captor gives an exaggerated nod and smiles at me; “He is a very good boy, aren’t you!” I look from one to the other. “Are you going to keep him?” the second woman enquires. “Oh, yes, most definitely!” She then turns to me and kneels speaking through the bars, “You want so much to stay with me, don’t you? You cannot resist what your imagination is suggesting might happen to you and your wonderful erection pays testament to that, doesn’t?” She pauses. “You will be staying with me….won’t you?” I look from her to the other and back and want to tell her I have only tomorrow. As she reaches into the cage and strokes my face I stutter, “I cannot, I need to…….” But she seductively places her finger on my lips and whispers, “I think you mean, ‘Yes, Mistress’, don’t you?” Both women seem to overpower me by their very presence and “Yes, Mistress,” escapes my mouth before I realise I am speaking. “Good!” Before I can consider further her hand again gently stokes my face. “You are a good boy!” She turns her hand over and the back of it passes over my lips. I catch the perfume on her wrist and am helpless – I kiss her hand. My eyes close as her hand hovers and I kiss it again, and again moaning quietly as my obsession with her grows. “Wonderful!” gasps her friend, “How did you get him to this stage in so short a time?” “It was easy wasn’t it little one?” My Mistress asks as I continue to kiss her hand. “Yes, Mistress,” I sigh.  The girls giggle and turn to leave promising to be back at bedtime but I plead urgently and with some embarrassment, “Mistress, I need to use the bathroom.” “Very well,” responds my Mistress, “You have been a very good boy and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” She moves to her en-suite bathroom and, to my horror, re-emerges with a small potty. She slowly unlocks a small gate in the corner of my cage and places the potty inside. Once locked again she turns to the second woman, “Come, Sophia, shall we leave our little pet alone to do what she needs to do?” My Mistress turns to go while Sophia moves towards the cage. “She is truly gorgeous – a wonderful achievement in only a few hours!” The last word comes from My Mistress who turns at the door and smilingly says, “See you at bed time.” The light is switched off, the door is closed and girls’ laughter dies away, as they descend the stairs. As I lie back in my cage to contemplate my fate I recall that they both referred to me as ‘She’. As I consider their words I am surprised at my equivocation.   The copious amount of alcohol I consumed results in my sleeping through and it is daylight streaming through the curtains which awakes me. I have vague distant memories of female figures moving about the room and a light under the bathroom door while I slept; also of hushed words, giggles and later expressions of love and affection between the girls. Now, as I lie in my cage, my eyes still partially closed, I watch these two beautiful women moving back and forth preparing themselves for their day. Both attired only in bra and panties, they dry their hair, moisturize their skins and commence with the day’s make-up. I again recall how they both referred to me as ‘She’ and a strange desire wells up inside me. I am shocked as I realise that I want to be a part of this girlie ritual. My Mistress sprays her wonderful perfume behind her ears and on her chest after applying her make-up. Pretending to be still asleep I watch Sophia decide to change the lingerie she had previously chosen and, as she casts it aside I long to pick it up. My Mistress now sits on the side of the bed adjacent to my cage to remove yesterday’s nail varnish from her toes and fit sponge separators between them. I watch as she applies today’s colour. She notices that I am now awake and watching her and she smiles at me saying, “Good morning little one – what a lovely long sleep you have had.” Sophia turns and smiles before continuing her make-up. As My Mistress paints her toe nails a deep red I know I must be part of this. My foot gently moves to the bars and I just manage to pass my foot towards her. I look longingly up at her. My Mistress notices. “Darling? Why of course you can have some varnish on your nails.” I rejoice as she places a foam separator between my toes before painting my nails – first one foot and then the other. The bulge in my panties becomes evident and I try to hide it but Sophia notices as she turns from her mirror and I once again hear her squeal of delight. She moves to take a closer look as My Mistress warns, “Now just let them dry, darling.” Sophia is enjoying this and with laughter she says, “How wonderful! Let’s play girlie games with her now – she obviously wants to join in!” My Mistress hesitates but, Sophia is insistent. “She wants to play girlie, look at her! It’s Sunday, we have time to enjoy ourselves!” My Mistress finally agrees and turns to me. “Alright, this is rather earlier than I had planned but if you would like to be girlie we can play.”  “Thank you Mistress.” I smile sheepishly. “You have to be good though and follow the rules.” The question in my expression is answered, “In order to release you from the cage you must be restrained and we must be free to do what ever we feel is necessary to fulfil your girlie desires.” Why does my heart race? Girlie desires? Feelings from the distant past surface again and I begin to recall. I realise, that from deep within my subconscious mind, longings which haunted me in my younger days are returning and I remember those profound feelings of a feminine side of me to which I was never able to reconcile myself.   I hesitantly nod my agreement of the terms. Today is Sunday and I do not need to be home until Monday. Anyway, I am enjoying this sexual experience beyond anything else I have experienced in years and years. A depth of feeling and emotions I never realised I had have been brought to the surface. This is ecstasy!   “Now, I think your toes are dry so let’s get started. Sophia, would you bring the chair from the second bedroom please?” Sophia leaves as My Mistress releases the lock on the cage. Sophia returns with a plain wooden carver chair which she takes into the bathroom and places in front of the full mirrored wall. I do not notice the straps attached at the arms and legs as I stand rather shakily, My Mistress and Sophia supporting me, perhaps more securely than I might have expected, and guide me into the chair. Before I am aware what is happening the girls have secured my wrists to the arms of the chair with my hands facing downwards. A strap is passed across my chest and fastened somewhere at the back. “But Mistress!” I cry with alarm, “There is no need for this – I want you to….” I am not allowed to continue, “You may not want everything we choose to do to you,” smiles Sophia, “But we know you will enjoy the end result,” My Mistress rapidly assures me with a glare across to Sophia. “Sophia owns a chain of Hairdressing and Beauty Parlours - she is a Beautician and Hairdresser by profession so you have nothing to worry about.” She turns to Sophia, “Does he Sophia?” “Whatever you say, darling!” She beams again and I feel concerned. Sophia turns to the sink and runs hot water as she removes her razor and shaving gel from a cabinet.    My Mistress secures my ankles to the chair legs and I am totally restrained. “Don’t worry,” My Mistress whispers as she gently kisses my forehead. As she moves back I see myself for the first time in the mirror. My beard has a day’s growth. My toes nails stand out with their deep red varnish. I feel ridiculous. I look through the mirror as the girls prepare, both beautiful in their underwear – bodies of perfection. How did this happen to me?   Sophia moves to me with a hot wet cloth and wipes my face immediately applying shaving gel to my face and under my chin. She shaves me skilfully constantly looking into my eyes and communicating her enjoyment of the dominance she is clearly feeling. Meanwhile My Mistress commences filing my finger nails.  “Your nails are long for a man,” she observes, “That’s good.” I am aware that she is shaping of my nails similar to hers. Sophia leans over and gives advice and My Mistress obeys. My nails become pointed and narrow. My shave complete, Sophia pats my face dry and runs her fingers through my longer than usual hair watching the result over my shoulder in the mirror. “I think we can do something very nice with this.” Her eyes fall to mine with a wicked glint.   My Mistress finishes my nails and is about to commence applying the same colour of varnish as on my feet but Sophia interrupts her, “Leave that to me darling – I think she deserves a special treat!” My Mistress looks up, “Are you sure, so soon?” and Sophia replies, “She is enjoying every minute of this.” Our eyes meet yet again. “Let’s wash her hair first,” she continues as the chair is tilted back to rest so my head hangs backwards over the bowl. My Mistress watches.   My hair is shampooed and conditioned and then dried lightly. The chair is returned to upright and Sophia busies herself with some preparation I cannot make out. Sophia turns and places what looks like tin foil with holes in over my head. She then commences to pull through sections of hair until I look like a porcupine. Throughout her expression signifies victory as she smiles wickedly. I look towards My Mistress who seems to be enjoying this as Sophia pulls on her surgical rubber gloves and starts to paint my strands of hair with a brush dipped in a white, think paste. The smell is of strong ammonia and I realise she is bleaching my hair in strands. I despair and remind both girls that I must face my wife tomorrow.  “I’m sure she will love what she finds,” Sophia replies and I detect some malice in her tone. I am helpless to resist. Sophia continues and eventually completes pasting every clump of hair pulled through the foil, wrapping each in more foil before leaving the chemicals to act.    Sophia then takes the buffet from the corner of the bathroom and sets it down beside me. She takes my hand and inspects the work My Mistress has done on my nails. “Very good,” is her response, “But we need real nails, nails that beautiful women wear, don’t we.” My Mistress sits on the other side and both work on my nails. I watch in horror as my nails are prepared, My Mistress following Sophia’s example. They start to apply artificial nails of what seem to me to be of enormous proportions. I plead with them not to continue when I am informed that they are bonded with an acrylic fixative designed to last for weeks. “These do not come off!” She then adds wickedly, “Your wife will love them!” My nails are fixed and painted as Sophia and My Mistress enjoy every moment of their conquest.   Sophia, satisfied with her work now turns to my eyebrows. “Now, let’s see what we can do with those.” She moves to her make-up case and, to my horror, returns with her tweezers. “Please, Sophia, no more.” I have to meet my wife tomorrow. “Ignoring me she tells me to keep still. Her tweezers take to my eyebrows. She plucks until I feel I have nothing left. She backs away and I see in the mirror a thin angled line above my eyes which used to be my eyebrows.  I gasp at the change. She then applies a brush like instrument which gradually moulds my remaining eyebrows adjusting the direction of the hair. My Mistress watches and seems delighted with the change.   Next Sophia, now in full swing as My Mistress stands back to watch and enjoy my transformation, takes a gun like tool from her case. She appears to load it but I fail to see around her as her back is towards me. After washing her hands she turns and marks my ears with a purple dot from a special pen.  “Oh, please Sophia, please don’t pierce my ears.” My pleas are ignored and my ear lobes are rubbed with a swab. The smell of some spirit irritates my, nose. Sophia then rubs her hands with the same type of swab, opens a sterilised pack and pierces my ears. A gold stud has appeared in each ear lobe. In utter distress I cry, “What am I going to tell my wife?” I then appeal to My Mistress who stands watching, “Please Mistress, don’t let her do any more!” She answers, “We have gone so far you may as well relax and enjoy the experience. Remember, this is what you asked for.” “But, Mistress I thought it would be just a bit of make-up!” But my cries are ignored and Sophia approaches to apply a base make-up cream which is so efficient it completely masks any evidence of a male beard. My facial skin looks clear, transparent and feminine.  “Now,” she says, “A permanent dye to show off your lovely feminine eyebrows.” I sigh in resignation as she applies with a small brush a colour which enhances what is left of my eyebrows. As she steps back – I look in the mirror and I know I like it! Eye shadow follows and then a permanent eyeliner. After each application I am allowed to view her work and gradually I realise how my anticipation is growing as we move towards the final picture. “Now your lashes -these will curl up beautifully,” she boasts. My resistance weakening I simply whimper, “Please, Sophia, no,” but I am losing the battle and become resigned to the changes being imposed upon me. My lashes are gripped with another instrument which rapidly imparts an extravagant curl to each lash. Mascara is then painted on, layer after layer, until my eyes take on a completely different appearance. The lashes are beautiful and I find I love blinking them. I turn my head to see them in profile.  I gasp.    Next her attention moves to my cheeks to which are applied shadow, highlight and then blusher. Then my lips. Her treatment of my lips is unexpected. After applying a similar medi-wipe to my lips she takes a small syringe, extracts a sterile needle and commences to inject along my lower lip. My lip swells. She repeats the process in my upper lip and my mouth takes on a sexy pout which just allows sight of my upper teeth. I smile in the mirror. My lips are fuller, more shapely and very feminine. I sigh and know I love it!  “I think Sophia has convinced you, little girl?” My Mistress observes. “Mistress, I…I… do like it but what am I going to do tomorrow when I have to face my wife?” Sophia smiles. “Do you really think you will want to leave knowing how wonderful this is all making you feel?” I look in the mirror and sigh before responding in a voice which shocks me. I sound like a little boy ….or is it a little girl? “I love the way you have made me look and I do want to stay longer.” My Mistress smiles and Sophia continues, “I knew you would! From the moment I saw you in your cage submitting to your mistress I knew there was a girl in there!” She moves to look at me from the front.  “Now to finish your hair!” I am completely resigned to my wonderful fate.   Sophia begins to remove the foil and eventually washes out the excess chemicals from my hair. To my amazement she then starts again. She takes my hair and curls it in sections around small rollers, painting a lotion across each curl. My hair is not long enough for large rollers and she struggles. When finished she places a hair net on my head and smiles. From across the bathroom My Mistress wheels a large free standing hair dryer I had not noticed. She places it over my head and turns on the heat. “There we are. Just 40 minutes wait and we can wash your hair before I cut it to a lovely girlie style. I think it’s time I dressed.” And she leaves me with a wink while My Mistress tidies things away   And so I wait looking at myself in the mirror wondering how I have got into this situation and where I go from here. I am left alone until both girls return. “Right,” Sophia states assertively, “The final stage!” My Mistress removes the curlers and washes my hair again before Sophia cuts and styles it. The hair is dried and the finish is superb with soft waves and flashes of beautiful blond.  “Gorgeous,” coos My Mistress and she steps aside revealing my image to me in the large mirror. I catch my breath and my heart races as I stare at my new female face and hair. “There you are beautiful girl. How do you like that?” Sophia proudly asks. “I love it Sophia, I love it. I never thought I…. .Thank you so much.” I pause enjoying everything I see.   There is no longer a threat that I will try to escape. The changes in my appearance, some permanent, mean that I fear to take even one step out of My Mistress’ front door.   Knowing this Sophia releases my straps. I slowly stand and stare at myself in the mirror – the transformation is unbelievable. My hair, my eyes, my cheeks and my lips are so wonderful. I touch my face with my fingers; my hands with their beautiful nails gently caress my facial skin and then stroke the hair style Sophia has so masterfully given me. I softly explore and caress the soft hairless skin of my body. My Mistress goes into the bedroom returning with her negligee. She holds it for me and I slip my arms into the sleeves. She fastens it at the front before stepping aside to reveal for me the woman I always knew was, deep, deep inside me.  

(If you like this Go to 'Story 2' entitled ‘Feminization – From hair and make-up to a red dress’ in ‘Love the idea of being sub-fem to females’)

 

MartineK MartineK
56-60
7 Responses Feb 12, 2009

Submission is the ultimate turnon! Lovely story!!

Fantastic story and so well written. Thank you so much for sharing this with us. Beautiful...simply Beautiful.

Well written and very intriquing. Definitely one must be careful in what is desired and wished for. Does sound ever so interesting.

Sofar the best and most intriging story on EP! <br />
When available please give me the address of you mistressand I will voluntary submit to her goddely skills<br />
xxx chantellette xxx

oohh what a heavenly experience, it reminds me of what my girlfriend did to me when she introduced me to the pleasures of femininity.<br />
<br />
V.

We are not as alone as we often think we are are we Sissynoob

Wow, this is so similar to a dream I had once...