Gay Pig Transformation
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A Welcome Transformation free porn video
A Welcome Transformation -
by Wendy H.
I awake in the darkness, my wife stirring in her sleep beside me as
I turn off the alarm clock.
I sit up in bed and try to clear the cobwebs from my brain. I've
been ill for a long while, and things seem hazy, hazier than half-sleep
would make them. I try to remember the past few days, but nothing but
random, meaningless images will come. It must have been quite a bug. I
feel fine now. It's back to work, I guess. Taking a deep breath, I heave
out of bed and stumble sleepily to the bathroom.
After relieving myself I slip off my panties and gown and place a
shower cap over my curlers. The hot water is invigorating as I wash. I
quickly shave my legs and armpits and am out in the steamy air, drying
myself. I rub moisturizer into my soft skin, then begin carefully shaving
my sparse beard. Soon, my face smooth and tingling, I don my bathrobe
and walk toward the bedroom.
As I close the bedroom door behind me, I see the bed is empty,
and hear sounds in the kitchen. I turn on the light and let my robe fall to
the floor. I pull up a lacy pair of beige panties, tucking my parts out of
sight. Next comes the matching bra, and I reach behind my back to fasten
it, then insert the two silicone breast forms into the cups. Sitting down on
the bed, I put my pink-polished toes into a part of suntan control-top
sandalfoot pantyhose and work the sheer nylon up my legs and over my
panties, being careful not to snag the hose with my long, pink nails. I don
a black full slip and sit down at the vanity. I use some concealer to hide
the faint shadow of my beard, then apply foundation and powder. I do
my eyes next. The eyeliner makes them stand out, and a deft application
of mascara and eyeshadow make them look smoky and mysterious. Some
blush and muted lipstick follow, and I smile at the feminine face in the
mirror.
I pull on a black pleated skirt that falls to mid-calf, then a pink
short-sleeve shell with black tipping. Over that I wear a matching long-
sleeve v-neck cardigan, and step into black patent-leather pumps with
chunky heels.
It takes some time to remove my curlers and style my short, dark
brown hair, but I am satisfied with the final result. It's healthy, shiny,
and full of body; my only wish is that it was longer. Well, that will come
with time. I complete my look with some tasteful jewelry: silver watch on
my slender wrist, silver heart earrings in my pierced ears, and of course
my wedding band and engagement ring. A spritz of perfume on my
wrists and on the nape of my neck, and I stand back to admire the finished
product. My look is professional, yet very feminine. Satisfied, I open the
door and make my way to the kitchen.
Peter, my nine-year-old son, is already sitting at the table, eating
his breakfast. He is wearing the uniform required by his new school:
white turtleneck, navy jumper, and black patent-leather loafers. Navy
semisheer tights complete the outfit quite nicely. His naturally curly
auburn hair is pulled back in a ponytail. "Wow, daddy, you look
beautiful," he says with a smile.
"Thanks, sweetie," I answer, not a little pleased. "You're looking
quite pretty yourself. And how's my ravishing wife?" I say as I turn to
kiss Marsha. She is in her robe, no makeup, and hair in a ponytail, but I
swear she looks just as beautiful as the day I married her.
I sit down and enjoy my Special-K and grapefruit breakfast (I have
to watch my figure), while we all talk about the coming day. Marsha has
another job interview today. I wish her well. Peter reminds me that he
has cheerleading practice after school. I begin to talk about my first day
back to work, but am interrupted by a beeping car horn outside. It's time
to go! I grab my purse and briefcase, and kiss Marsha goodbye. Peter is
already at the door, waiting for me. It's nice to see he's actually looking
forward to school.
Peter climbs into the back seat of the waiting car, joining his friend
Robert, who is dressed in the same school uniform. He's a darling lad,
very much a sissy. I slide into the front seat and greet Ken.
Ken is my best friend. He's also my business partner. We started
a little computing firm ten years ago, and it's grown so much since then
that we now have over a hundred employees. It's a job we both love, and
we run a pretty tight and professional ship. And thrifty. Even though
we're both comfortably well-off, we still carpool to work every day.
"Welcome back to the grind, partner," he says with a grin, as the car jerks
into motion.
"Thanks a lot!" I retort, rolling my eyes in mock dismay. "Your
hair looks pretty. I love the frosted look."
"Do you like it?" he asks, fluffing it with a long-nailed hand. "I
went to the salon yesterday, and Jean talked me into it. I was unsure at
first, but it's growing on me. Where did you get that adorable skirt?"
I think for a minute, but I feel strangely whenever I try to
remember where I got my skirt. Or the other clothes I am wearing for that
matter. Ken is looking at me oddly, and quickly changes the subject.
"How do you like my suit?"
"It's lovely." The stange feeling I have passes. Ken's suit is very
pretty; it's a gray two-piece with double-breasted jacket and a mid-thigh
skirt. The white stockings he wears makes his legs look shapely and very
sexy. In fact, Ken is a doll, with his long lashes and pouty red lips. I
envy him.
The boys are giggling in the back. Before I can asked them what's
so funny, we come to a stop in front of the Eon Academy for Sissies. The
boys quickly say goodbye as they slip out of the car. They join the throng
of boys in the courtyard in front of the stately old stone building. I am
proud that Peter was accepted to such an exclusive school. There he will
be properly educated with the skills that a young ladyboy needs to
succeed. I will be eternally grateful to Ken, who helped him get in;
Robert was already a student there. My heart melts with pride as I
imagine Peter as an adult, winning all the beauty pageants, beautiful in his
long gown and tiara, tears of joy streaming down his face.
The car stops again. I have been daydreaming, and we are already
here at the office. "Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" Ken asks in
concern, his hand on my arm.
"I'm fine," I assure him with a smile. I must look pale. I check
my makeup in the mirror. I do feel a bit strange...almost nervous. I chalk
it up to my long illness, and get out of the car.
The hall is filled with the clicking of our high heels as we head
toward the elevator. I revel in the sound. I love the way my stockinged
legs feel when they rub together, the swish of my skirt, the taste of my
lipstick. But something feels wrong. I can't quite place it, but something
strange is happening.
The music in the elevator reassures me. We get off on our floor
and head toward the executive office. I see a few of our employees. All
greet me warmly, but something in their eyes troubles me. An appraising
look. Even Joy, my secretary, has a strange expression as she asks,
"How are you feeling, Ms. Avery?"
As I settle in behind my desk, things seem to return to normal.
There's a lot to catch up on. So much, in fact, that when I look up next,
it's already mid-afternoon. I get up and stretch, then walk down to the
lounge. Marty, from the mailroom, is there. I ask him how he is, but he
gets up from his chair and stares at me for a second. "I had Ken Parker
figured for a fruit, but not you, too. I'm not working for a bunch of
sissies!" He's shouting now. "I quit!"
I am shaken by the encounter. My head is pounding, and I know
something is terribly wrong here. I go to Ken's office and close the door.
"All right. What's going on? What's happening? Marty Fleischer just
quit in a huff." I sit down in front of his desk, crossing my legs with a
swish of nylon.
Ken puts down his pen with a resigned look. "I knew this would
happen. He's been on edge ever since...well, let me start at the
beginning. You don't remember everything right now, Jack, but you
will. And I hope you'll understand why I...why we did what we did.
"I've always loved to wear womens' clothing, Jack, ever since I
was a little boy. I'm not sure why, that's just the way it is. Cindy knew
about my little "hobby" when we got married. No one else did, not even
you, Jack. You thought I was a man's man. Boy, did I have you fooled.
Anyway, Cindy allowed me to dress up at home whenever I wanted, as
long as no one else was around. I had it made for a while, until Robert
was born. We both agreed that it would be best if I didn't dress in front
of him. It was very frustrating to me, but it was necessary. I distracted
myself in my work. We built our little "empire" in those years. I was
driven, Jack, but for reasons you didn't know. And I couldn't tell you.
By little comments you made, I knew that you had no tolerance for
effeminate men, let alone crossdressers. So I dressed whenever I could
steal some time at home, when Cindy and Robert were away.
"A couple of years ago, Cindy caught Robert trying on her clothes.
She didn't scold him, but sat him down and talked to him about it. It was
clear that he'd never seen me do it, so it had to be his own natural
tendency. She and I discussed it, and decided to allow him to dress as a
girl at home, if he really wanted to. Boy, did he! We bought him a dress
of his own, and he was so happy he cried. Well, before long he had an
entire wardrobe of girl's clothing, and he was dressed as a little lady every
evening when I came in from work. In fact, I started putting on a dress
when I got home as well. After all, there was no need to hide my secret
from him anymore. We had family outings as three girls, and had a lot of
fun doing it. But Cindy and I stressed to him that it was to be a secret
from everyone else, and we took great pains in hiding it from everyone we
knew. Especially your family, Jack. I swear to you that we all went to
great lengths not to involve anyone else, including Peter.
"However, one day Marsha called Cindy while you and I were at
work, and she was very worried. She had caught Peter wearing a pair of
her pantyhose and putting on lipstick in the bathroom. Well, Cindy tried
to console her, and one thing led to another, and pretty soon she was
telling Marsha about Robert-and me. Cindy said that Marsha sounded
relieved when she hung up the phone. And that's all we heard about it-for
a while. I sure was afraid that she would tell you about our little secret,
but my fears were unfounded.
"One day I came in from work, and was met at the door, as usual,
by Robert. He was wearing a ballerina outfit-pink tights, leotard, and
tutu. With him, though, was a friend, wearing a matching costume. I
began to panic, and panicked even more when I realized that his friend
was your son, Peter. Cindy and Marsha were sitting on the couch with
big smiles on their faces. It turns out that Marsha had followed our
example, in a way. She bought Peter some dresses of his own. But she
didn't tell you, knowing you would explode. I was very concerned at this
aspect of it, but Marsha argued that it was better than making Peter
suppress his natural desires. I had to agree, albeit reluctantly. Later on, I
was persuaded to show Marsha what I looked like en femme. So I
changed into lingerie and a dress, quickly did my makeup and hair, and
presented myself. Marsha was very enthusiastic, and so was Peter. I
admit that I blushed at all the compliments. Eventually they convinced me
that it was better to leave you in the dark on this aspect of your son's life.
"I guess you recall now how your son wanted to spend a lot of
time over at our house. You probably thought he and Robert were playing
ball and roughhousing; in reality they were wearing dresses and doing
each other's nails and hair.
"It wasn't long after that when Cindy and I discovered the Eon
Academy for Sissies. We both knew it would be perfect for Robert. It
would have been a dream for me to go there when I was a boy. Just
imagine-a school run entirely by feminine men, and devoted to turning
boys into proper young ladies! Robert was ecstatic! We eventually got an
appointment with the schoolmistress, Ms. Arnold. We had Robert put on
his best dress, stockings, and flats. Cindy and I both wore very proper
and professional-looking dresses. The interview went well. Ms. Arnold
is a very stern but elegant man in his sixties-the very picture of the
stereotypical headmistress, complete with conservative wool suit and hair
in a bun. Well, as you know, we enrolled Robert for the fall term. From
that time forward, he has never worn boyish clothes again, except for the
times when he would be around you. I was still afraid of your reaction,
and didn't want to jeopardize our business or our friendship, not to
mention Peter and Robert's friendship. But I know you gave Robert
some strange looks from time to time; he may have been in boys' clothes,
but it became increasingly difficult to hide his effeminate manner.
"Things came to a head about a month ago. Robert invited Peter to
come watch the Christmas show at the Academy. So Peter came over to
our house early that evening and changed into a darling outfit consisting of
a red long-sleeved tee, plaid skirt, red tights, and Mary Janes. His hair
was getting long (over your objections), and he looked like a pretty little
girl. But he was awestruck when Robert came into the room. He was
playing the part of a grown-up sissy maid in the play, and his mother had
helped him get ready. He wore a French maid's outfit with starched white
pinafore and short skirt. His face was fully made up, and he wore sheer
black pantyhose and even black pumps with 1 1/2-inch heels. We had let
him get his ears pierced, and he wore long, dangly earrings. He look very
beautiful and grown-up, and I could tell that Peter was envious.
"There was a large audience in the school auditorium, and I was
relieved to see that many of the students' fathers came en femme just as I
did. Peter sat enthralled as he watched the very feminine boys on the
stage. The play was a rollicking comedy about a very well to do sissy and
his family's Christmas preparations. It was a rousing success.
"It wasn't very long after that when Marsha called Cindy and
asked about the Eon Academy for Sissies. It seems that Peter had been
talking almost incessantly about it ever since the night of the play. She
was very impressed with what she heard, and I think she knew that it was
what Peter needed. The seemingly insurmountable obstacle, of course,
was you. There was no way you'd have any part of it, and would make
Peter stop wearing girls' clothes as well. Not to mention the huge rift it
would create between us. Marsha thought a lot about it, and it turns out
that she had a plan. But, before she could implement it, disaster struck.
"Peter had spent the weekend with us, and you were due to pick
him up at seven o'clock on Sunday evening. At about five we returned
from the mall, where the boys and I had been shopping. We all had on
our Sunday best dresses. It was about time for us to get into boy mode in
preparation for your visit. The boys were giggling, and I didn't hear your
car pull up. Why did you barge in without knocking, Jack? We all stood
looking at each other, dumbstruck. I know you were in shock. There we
were: your best friend, my son, and your son, all in dresses, pantyhose,
and makeup. You started shaking violently, and grabbed Peter's arm.
Without saying a word, you dragged him out of the house, not even
making him change into boys' clothes.
"The rest we learned from Marsha. You stormed into the house,
demanding to know if she knew about Peter and about Robert and I.
When she said yes, you turned purple for an instant, then collapsed.
"You were bedridden for two weeks. The stress and shock had
decimated your immune system, and you contracted a very serious case of
the flu. You slipped in and out of fever during most of that time. And
Marsha, seeing an opportunity, acted.
"She had bought some music CDs which contained subliminal
messages purported to increase the femininity of the listener. This had
been her plan, to see if she could turn you into a sissy so that you could
accept the rest of us. All the time you were in bed, day and night, she
kept the music going. And meanwhile, threw out all your clothes and
replaced them with women's fashions. When your fever broke two days
ago, you awoke wearing a nightgown, with gold piercing studs in your
ears. You were horrified of your hairy body, and immediately insisted on
showering and shaving all over.
"While you had been ill, Marsha had (with our help) enrolled Peter
in the Academy for the spring term. When he came in from school that
evening, he was amazed at what he found. There you were, wearing
makeup and a housedress, hugging him and telling him how pretty he
was. The experiment had worked! You were now a full-fledged sissy!
Your memory of recent events appeared to be very murky, and it seemed
best that way. And you know the rest."
I am amazed. My memory returned as he spoke. But that person I
was seems a distant memory, almost someone else. I sit in silence for a
while, taking it all in. Then I speak. "I don't blame you all for what you
did. I was a selfish, bigoted jerk. A barbarian. Now I'm a lady, and I
love it! I love being pretty, wearing pretty clothes, and being with dear
friends like you." We embrace, and are laughing and crying all at once.
Good thing we both wore waterproof mascara! We dry our eyes and sit
back down.
"Jack, there's more to the story, obviously. Once I learned of
Marsha's plan of feminizing you, I saw the opportunity I had dreamed
about. I decided to live the rest of my life as a feminine man. I threw
away all my male clothes. And I came into work the next day in a dress.
I called all the employees together and explained the change in my
appearance. Most took it well. You see, I have always done the hiring
for our company, and I think that I subconsciously chose people who
were more tolerant and accepting. Including Marty, there have only been
about ten people who couldn't tolerate the changes, and quit.
"I also announced that you were also a sissy, and when you
recovered from your illness you would be coming to work dressed as a
woman as well. " He smiles. "You see that I was counting my chickens
before they hatched. But I hoped that Marsha's plan would work so very
badly..."
He looks troubled. "The next thing I may tell you may be more
difficult to understand. Jack, those of us who have feminine tendencies
don't have an easy time in this world. There are lots of people who are
very hostile to us-like you used to be. I get very tired of being looked
down upon. There are places like the Academy, but they are few and far
between. I feel like we need to change things, in whatever way we can.
I couldn't bear the thought of us being outsiders within our own
company. So", he sighs, "I began borrowing the feminizing CDs from
Marsha and playing them as background music within our building.
Things have to change, Jack, and it's going to start right here."
I am surprised, but I see his logic. "Have there been any
noticeable effects so far?"
"Oh, definitely. I think many of the men here are a bit less
masculine than average anyway, once again due to my hiring practices.
But I have seen a lot more feminine gestures and movements among the
men. Many keep their knees together when they sit. I have glimpsed the
outline of a bra underneath the shirts of one or two, and evidence that
some are wearing pantyhose underneath their pants. A few are even
wearing clear nail polish. The women in the office have noticed, but have
not said anything so far. I think this should complete the transformation."
He hands me a typed memo entitled, Revised Employee Dress
Code. It reads as follows:
In order to promote equality and fairness and maintain a professional
image here at Binary Computing, we are revising the employee dress
code. The dress code will be the same for both men and women; the
following items are acceptable apparel for work hours:
* Blouses and shirts
* Skirts and dresses
* City shorts with jackets
* "Skort" outfits (dress style or with jacket)
* Pantyhose, stockings, or tights. Hosiery should not be patterened
* Dress shoes with closed toes
The following items are inappropriate:
* Pants or trousers
* Athletic shoes / sneakers
* T-shirts
* Sweatshirts and sweatpants
* Shorts
* Leggings
* Halter tops or tank tops
* "Teva"-type sandals, beach thongs
* Shoes without socks
Employees are required to wear brassieres at all times. Makeup is
encouraged, but should be subtle and appropriate for business appearance.
Jewelry should be tasteful. Hair should be kept neat, and should be no
more than waist-length. Facial hair is unacceptable.
I shake my head and smile. "This is wonderful. But is it legal?"
"I checked with our lawyers, and we're well within our rights here. I
don't think there will be any objections, at this point, anyway. The
women seem to be very accepting of us, and the remaining men are so
sissified at this point that it will be a relief for them to be allowed to dress
femininely at work."
I giggle with delight. "By all means, send it out, then. Make
Monday the effective date-that way the guys will have time to shop for
their new outfits!" The thought of all the men in our office busily working
in skirts and hose fills me with great pleasure.
Ken and I stand and embrace. Our friendship is stronger than
ever.
As I turn to leave, he says, "Hey, there's a shoe sale down at the
mall. There's this absolutely adorable pair of sandals that I just have to
have. Would you like to stop by after work?"
I smile. "Me, miss a shoe sale? Not on your life!"
(THE END)
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