The Hairstyling Model free porn video

This is a first-person account of an involuntary feminization, which is fiction The Hairstyling Model By I. R. Nixon It was shortly after five when we entered the meeting room at the Sandford Hotel. I could not believe my luck that Friday. Sharon, my hairstylist and superfox, offered me a hundred dollars and would pay my expenses for me to be one of her models at her "Perfect Looks" training seminars. Considering this meant a night in San Francisco at a posh hotel how could I refuse. Sharon insisted I meet her at the bar and we would go to the seminar together. When we arrived I noticed about thirty chairs were set in front of a slightly elevated stage area. A chair like those seen in salons was positioned in the center. A sink, full- length mirror, second chair and counter were located behind the chair. There was a roll around workstation with various hair care supplies located on it. In short it looked like a makeshift salon had been set up just for the training seminars. I figured this would be the easiest hundred I ever made. "Why don't you step over here to the shampoo sink and let me get started?" she asked as she motioned me towards the sink. "You got it babe." I replied and gave her a little pat on her delicious fanny as we proceeded. Sharon told be to sit in front of the sink while she washed by hair. As she was doing this she spoke to her audience of about twenty stylists all women. The view of Sharon's 36D's was not real hard to take either. When she finished she led be over to the chair located on center stage. So far this was way too easy. The women in the audience looked intently as Sharon demonstrated her method for producing the "perfect cut". Since she was teaching while she cut my hair it took her considerably longer than normal to cut my hair. I really can't say I minded though I was being paid way plenty and I did not have to pay her the normal $25. Occasionally someone from the audience would ask a question or two and that further delayed the process. About thirty minutes after she had started she was finished with cutting my hair and now she moved to the styling part. She told the audience that normally it was best to use a styling gel but that tonight she was going to omit that part. She manipulated the blow dryer with precision and in ten minutes she had finished. I could not see her work but the audience applauded in approval. It was at this point something happened that I was not prepared for. She invited the audience up to get a closer look. What I heard next surprised me. "Ladies most of the time we could leave his hair like this. As you can see it looks great." she informed them. "However, tonight I am going to add a little more style to his hair. Tonight we are going to do something a little more bold and daring." I noticed a small device that was generating steam but had not paid much attention to it. I had never seen the device before and had no earthly idea what it did. I also noticed a number of small spongelike rollers sitting on the roll around table. I was about to learn what they were for as well. "Tonight we are going to style is hair with a steam hair setter." she stated matter-of-factly. Some of the women seemed surprised two quickly covered a slight giggle. I was shocked but did little. Before I could react she had already had the first section of hair rolled. With lightening speed she moved quickly through my hair. After the first few were in she slowed slightly to explain the process. Few of the women had ever used this new type of roller and she methodically explained each step. She then let some of the women wrap a section. I was still in a state of shock and could do little to prevent this. In a few minutes she had finished she then used her blow dryer for a minute or two and finally began to remove the rollers. When the last roller was removed she began to style my hair I could see nothing and my imagination ran wild. She did little to prevent my imagination from seeing the worst. "Of course you probably won't use these rollers on men. Most will put up way too much of a fight. Maybe small men with long hair might be your best bet." she chided. The audience chuckled in amusement. I did not find this real humorous. "I used my hot roller on my brother when we were in high school. He is still pissed about that. Of course I had beat the crap out of him first." A large redhead whom they called Rosy chimed in. One look at the smart-mouthed Amazon convinced me she was probably not joking and would have curled her bother's hair just for the sport of it. Finally, Sharon was finished. The women did admire the hairdo. Sharon concluded her lecture and told the women there was going to be a ten minute break and the second session would start in five-minutes. The women adjourned from the room and Sharon handed be a mirror. I looked in shock at my hair. Initially I was surprise but had to admit it looked slightly coifed but great. I mean really great. "Hey! You never told me about the rollers. I did plan on having my hair done up like some college girl." I stated in a mixture of surprise and outrage. "Don't worry about it, I'm going to wash it out now. The next session starts in a few minutes and your going to be getting a curly perm so your new style is going to be short-lived." "No way! You didn't say anything about any perm or rollers or anything else." "What did you think all you had to do was sit here for a haircut? In a few minutes you are going to getting wrapped for a perm like it or not. So quit being so damn rebellious!" I got up to leave and moved about two steps from the chair. To my amazement she placed her hand on my upper arm just under my armpit. She then lifted me slightly off the floor and pushed me over to the makeshift shampoo basin and shoved me into the chair. Her hand squeezed my arm so hard that pain shot all the way from my wrists to my neck. In a few seconds I was near tears from the pain. To my shock and horror she had reduced me to total submission with one hand. Clearly I was no match for her. Not even close. Meanwhile she was using her free hand to wet my hair in preparation for the next session. I begged for mercy and she relented. "Now I hope we understand each other. You are going to be my model for this seminar and you will do as I say. I don't mean to hurt you but I will not tolerate any, repeat any, trouble from you." The subject of my remaining was never discussed from that point forward. Next she produced what appeared to be a white sweatshirt only it looked like satin. She told be to put it on with the zipper in the back. I knew better than to argue with her. When she zipped the shirt up I noticed that there was a slight padding in the chest and it fit tightly in the abdomen area. I was too scared to ask why I had to wear this garment. She placed a drape over it so nobody would notice. Fear was my main emotion now. Sharon had total control of me and I was going to be at her mercy. Even worse it was easy to detect she knew it. In a few minutes her audience returned. She began the session by discussing the "perfect perm". She invited a few women from the audience to help her wrap the rods into my hair. Rosy was the first to volunteer. This was going to be a long night. I wanted to somehow melt completely out of sight. I fought back tears of shame and humiliation. I did not say one word during the wrapping ordeal. Sharon carefully instructed her audience on each step. Finally, the wrapping was complete. Sharon sadistically handed be a mirror and forced be to look at my rod-laden head. "Ever wonder what you looked like in pink rods?" she asked for no other purpose then to remind me she was in control. She then placed cotton around my scalp and applied a solution. In a few seconds I could feel a warm sensation on my head. In a few more seconds I noticed a strong odor. When she had applied the solution she informed the audience that it would take thirty minutes to process. She gave them the option of sitting and watching or going to the bar. They picked the latter. She then asked if she could get me something from the bar. Stupidly I said I wanted a diet coke. A few minutes later a sexy cocktail waitress appeared with my drink. She left quickly and almost made it to the exit before doubling over in laughter. By this time I was too far gone to care. My waist was being squeezed by some stupid shirt, my arm was still sore, my ego was in shatters, and I was helpless to defend myself against a hundred and forty pound hairstylist. Worse I knew the evening was only going to get even stranger. In what seemed like an eternity I sat there "processing" alone as my imagination painted one horrible scenario after another. As the timer approached the five-minute-remaining mark Sharon returned. She looked at the test curl and told be it wouldn't be long. She noticed I had finished by coke and asked if I wanted another one. This time I said no. In a minute another cocktail waitress came to pick up the glass. This one only made it a few steps before she burst out laughing. Sharon was enjoying my humiliation and she knew I could do nothing about it. Finally, her audience returned. She then took me to the sink and rinsed the solution from my hair. This took seemingly forever but finally Sharon was satisfied. She then applied the neutralizer and restarted the timer. She then allowed the women to walk around a view how the hair was wrapped and answered questions on the procedure. "Sharon isn't this type of wrap normally used on women only. Won't smaller rods and that type of wrap produce a girlish look?" one of the women inquired. "It will produce a look more girlish than a traditional wrap and the smaller rods will add to that effect. However, that does not mean we have to restrict it only to women." Sharon responded. In other words she simply was going to perm me the way she wanted and I could do nothing. While the neutralizer was working she trimmed my eyebrows. When the timer was within a few minutes of completion she removed the rods. A short time later she began rinsing my hair for the last time. After that was complete she wrapped by hair in a towel and led me back to the chair in the center of the stage. The women from the audience now gathered around and observed the wet curls in amazement. They were surprised at how well the perm turned out. Some remarked that the curls were the best they had ever seen. Others had more questions to ask. One correctly noticed that I did not seem real happy with my new curls. Another remarked that such a gorgeous perm was being wasted on the wrong gender. Sharon's answered with extraordinary glee, "Not necessarily, not necessarily at all." For the next several minutes Sharon proceeded to detangle and comb my hair carefully explaining what she was doing. Already a few of the hairstylists in her audience were speculating that finished product was going to look outstanding. Next she took a blow dryer with a diffuser and started to dry and shape the mound of curls. In a little over ten minutes she had completed drying my hair. Next she used a large curling iron to finish off my style and topped it with a good amount of spray. The audience again swarmed around to see the final product. They all applauded Sharon on her work. I had not seen my hair yet and was not sure I wanted to. "As you can see it does produce a slight feminine look or style. In fact from the back it would be hard to distinguish someone's gender. His thin neck and small shoulders don't help matters either." she added to the amusement of others. Sharon informed the ladies that the next session would start in forty-five minutes and that we should all adjourn to the lounge for supper. Sharon removed my drape and told me to follow her to the bar. I rose reluctantly. She handed me my jacket and told be to follow her "NOW". I knew I'd better listen she did not have to limit herself to one hand anymore. Once in the bar Sharon led be to a table in a slightly lighted corner. I still had not seen my hair yet. However, I noticed that one of the two waitresses who had seen me earlier was looking at my hair. I excused myself and headed for the restroom it had been three and a half-hours and I really needed one. When I started to leave the Rosy giggled and warned me about using the restroom. "Be careful this is San Francisco, with that girlish do you might get in trouble. Whatever you do don't bend over. You could wake up with a bloody asshole and a dollar bill in your hand." Somehow I failed to find the humor. When I reached the restroom I caught my first break of the evening. Nobody was using it. I took my first look in the mirror and was stunned at what I saw. Where did I get all that hair and all those curls? My hair hung down nearly to my shoulders in a cascade of ringlets. I noticed my hair from the side and front. It was shocking to say the least. It definitely looked feminine yet it did not seem out of place on me. I had seen this look on men before. Using the mirror surrounding the sink I could tell the back looked okay. I was surprised but considering what Sharon could have done to me I was relieved. I did not even bother to notice that by eyebrows were thin. Outside the restroom the waitress who had earlier laughed at me stopped to apologize. She said my hair looked great and apologized again. I even asked her if she would be around later. She starred at me mysteriously and said sure she would be in the downstairs bar until one. When I returned to the table Sharon had ordered a light supper for me and all of us ate together. Sharon stated that there was only one ninety-minute session left and we would be finished. That sounded good to all of us. The hotel had a great lounge on the top floor and they were featuring a terrific band tonight. When this ordeal was finished I was definitely going to checkout that cocktail waitress. We finished eating and returned to the meeting room. Sharon motioned me towards the sink again. I was uncertain what she had in mind but I did as I was told. Suddenly I noticed two small plastic tubs full of Velcro rollers. I knew resistance was useless and I knew what my fate was. I also noticed something else. I could accept this fate. I seemed almost at ease. Two hours earlier I would have collapsed in panic at the thought of spending an hour in front of twenty women wearing rollers. Now I was not bothered by the thought of this. It dawned on me how Sharon had conditioned me to accept this fate. First the hot rollers and the bouffant challenged my masculinity immediately. Next her forcing me into submission had shattered my resistance. Finally, the eternity of the perm and the girlish array of curls served to remind me the she controlled my masculinity. The rest of the evening was now entirely clear. She was going to set my hair into a feminine style not to demonstrate how to style men's hair but to demonstrate how to style women's hair. She was simply going to use me as a model. Sharon was going to use me as a female model. The other women would know what she was doing and they would know I was helpless to stop it. In the next hour whatever shred of maleness I had would be gone. That had been what this was all about. Everyone knew it. My only consolation was that this would be over soon. Sharon wasted no time in getting the session started. She made me remove my jacket exposing that weird silk blouse. She then had me sit center stage. She towel dried my hair and sprayed it with a setting lotion. "Okay this is the final two segments in our seminar. This section is called the 'perfect set' and the 'perfect finish'. Now I know many of you are thinking that we normally don't set men's hair. You are correct. However, tonight we are going to vote on this. Does someone want to volunteer or do we want make him our prom queen tonight?" The audience roared in laughter. "Okay who wants to volunteer? C'mon do you really want to see this poor guy sit here in rollers. C'mon girls if you don't volunteer I'm going to have to roll him up like a school girl and you all know that perm is going to hold those curls like iron." The laughter continued. "Last chance for a volunteer." she told the audience knowing full well there would be no volunteer. When nobody volunteered she turned to me and sarcastically remarked, "Sorry about that princess." She then reverted to the role of the stylist. The calm professionalism of her voice was chilling. She was treating me as if I were a young woman. Carefully she explained the process and methodically she placed my hair in rollers. One by one she covered my entire head in gold Velcro rollers. She used up the first tub doing the sides and the top. She then rolled the back using slightly smaller rollers. The audience again asked a few questions about the process while I sat their helpless. In twenty minutes she had completed rolling my hair and again made me look in the mirror. By now she made no pretense that this was for any purpose other that my humiliation. However, I was beyond humiliation at this point. I could only count the minutes until this ordeal was over and I could escape. In an hour this would be done and I could escape to my room and shower. That is all I wanted to do that evening. Just end mercifully end. Sharon then gave me one more surprise. Just when I thought matters could not get worse they did. She then informed the audience I was going to get a facial. She also invited the women to the stage to see observe more closely. They approached and she applied a white cream to my face. When that was complete Sharon invited the women to once again adjourn to the bar. She invited me to go with them. I declined for obvious reasons. They all left and I was alone again. A few minutes later a third cocktail waitress entered with a coke. "Go ahead start laughing, that's why she sent you here." I told the waitress. My instructions were redundant. She was already cracking up by the time she arrived. It mattered little to me at this point. All I wanted was for the evening to end. In a few minutes they returned. Sharon removed the cream from my face and then started to dry my hair with the blow dryer. It took her a considerable amount of time to finish the drying stage of the set. When she finished she removed the rollers again showing me the remaining rolls. Casually she announced that she was going to apply a light amount of make-up. In what seemed like a blur she had applied base, blush, powder, eye, and lip makeup. My worst suspicions had been confirmed and I did nothing to protest. Her actions had already made clear who was in charge. She then proceeded to comb out my hair. She did not even make a pretext of what the final style would look like. At least five times she used a female pronoun to describe what she was doing. A generous amount of spray held my new style in place. When she had finished she told me to hold out my hands. I obeyed instantly. She then glued ten pre-painted nails onto my fingertips. To add insult to injury she asked Rosy to select the color. Of the two choices, bright red and clear, she picked the bright red. No surprise there. The final moments were finally at hand. In minutes I thought I could escape this and be done with these people forever. Whatever final humiliation they had in store seemed almost irrelevant. This was nearly over and what they did mattered little anymore. I could see a real barber and get my haircut. I could blow-dry these curls away until my hair grew back. I could move to Montana and Sharon would never follow me there. My mind raced. I was wrong again. Sharon now savored her moment of delight. She walked me over in front of a full-length mirror and forced me to look at myself. I starred in the mirror. At first I did not realize what was happening. I saw a woman starring back at me. There was this woman with beautifully styled hair and perfect makeup. From the neck up there was know question about the gender of the person facing me in the mirror. In a few seconds I realized that I was looking at myself. Slowly the reality set in. I was that women in the mirror. Sharon had made me into a gorgeous woman against my will. I did not look like a man with a woman's hairdo. I looked like a woman. Sharon the stepped up to me and dressed me in a wraparound skirt. The white blouse now made sense. The skirt and the blouse together formed a full-length outfit. Only my shoes seemed out of place. She then produced a set of heels, which I immediately changed into. The end effect was stunning. The audience was also stunned at what had happened. Sharon then announced the final result, "Here is what you have ladies. You start with the perfect cut and style. You then use the perfect perm. Next you use the perfect set and the perfect finish. At the end you will have guess what?" After a few seconds she gloated aloud, "The perfect sissy!" The group laughed its approval. She turned to me and asked, "Aren't you the perfect sissy?" I didn't say a word. She glared intently and asked me again in an angry voice, "Aren't you the perfect sissy, little girl?" I answered yes weakly. "Yes what?" she yelled. "Yes I'm the perfect sissy." "Louder!" "I'm the perfect sissy!" I shouted. The women in the audience again roared their approval. Sharon then gave me a huge kiss on the lips and said, "Works done its party-time. Everybody upstairs to the lounge and the band. That means you too sissy. I didn't go to all this work so you could hide in your room. Besides look at yourself you can easily pass for a fox. Live a little sissyboy." As we progressed through the lobby Sharon herded be into the downstairs bar. She motioned for the cocktail waitress to come over. The one who I talked to earlier came over and looked at me. She smiled and looked me over. "This one looks better than the last one you did. She is really great. I'll get the others to come over see this." she remarked acting as if changing me into a young woman was a good thing. I now understood why she looked at me so mysteriously. She knew I would be spending the evening in drag. One by one the sexy cocktail waitresses came to inspect Sharon's work and I had but little choice other than to stand there and be examined. Their comments added to my sense of despair. "I'm really embarrassed by you. You could be a bigger fox than most of us here if you let Sharon keep you this way." one stated. "Great work Sharon. You got him femmed to the max. I could take her to the hospital and have her fitted for a pussy and nobody there would question it." a second added. "You can't really have a cock under that skirt! No way! Sharon you are the best." the third one stated believing she was flattering me. "Can you believe this? This guy did not even want to be permed and she made him into a superfox against his will in three hours." a fourth one chimed in. Minutes later I found myself on the elevator on the way to the seventeenth floor, the mirror in the elevator car convinced me that I could pass in a dark bar. We entered the bar. Luckily it was dark and we found a corner table. The band was great. One of the women took mercy upon me and ordered my drinks for me. Sharon had taken the items from my pockets and placed them in a small clutch purse. I hid in the corner enjoying the band for a few hours. The Rosy had to amuse herself by taking me to the ladies room and applying a second coat of lipstick. I was mortified by this and she knew it. Finally, Sharon suggested that I call it a night and she took me to her room. Inside the room she told me to kneel on the floor and face the door. I obeyed instantly. In a few minutes she stood in front of me naked. She took my head and pressed it against her pussy. It was obvious what she had in mind. She was going to have sex with me under her terms. Her instructions were ominous, "Get your tongue working sissy. If I'm not satisfied in short order I will go out an find a huge cock to replace my pussy." I wasted no time giving her exactly what she wanted. Furiously I worked my tongue. I had no doubt she would make good on her threat. It did not take long until she was completely satisfied. She then instructed me to remove all my clothing. She took an electric razor and shaved all my body hair. She placed a bra and panties on me and laid me on the bed. She then rolled me over face down. She placed two pillows under my abdomen and told be not look up until I had counted to fifty. When I reached fifty I looked up in time to see her with a huge dildo strapped into place. I feared what awaited me. "This is what really makes a perfect sissy. A good bunging at the hands of a real woman is what all men need. I guess you know what I'm going to do now." She tied a scarf in my mouth to muffle my pleas. It would be an understatement to say she savaged me. She turned me everyway but loose. I understood exactly what she meant in minutes I was squirming and writhing like a teenage girl. My coiffed curls bounced violently as she worked her will on me. My makeup smeared the pillowcase. When she had amused herself enough she released me. Leaving me a sobbing mess. "Rollover and let me finish you. I don't want that thing exploding on your nightie." She masturbated me roughly by hand then slipped my panties back on. She dressed me in a sheer frilly nightgown and tucked me in bed. I was to spent and too weak to resist. She tied my hands and dressed herself. "I'm going back to the bar now. I want you to get a good night's sleep. I'll be joining you in that bed later tonight. When I do don't even think about sticking that cock anywhere near me." After she left I struggled to loosen my hands but to no avail. I fell asleep a few minutes later. I awoke when the sun first entered the room. Sharon was sleeping next to me. She had untied my hands and I got out of bed and used the bathroom. When I returned Sharon was awake. I noticed my clothes were on the bed. "Don't bother with your hair this morning I'll be setting it during the first session. When you done shaving I'll get your makeup. I've got a red satin skirt and a nice frilly blouse for you to wear today. We should be done by five and then if you still want to, and that is a big if, you can change back into you male clothing." "What! I thought this was all over yesterday?" I replied. She approached me and grabbed my neck. Once again she dropped me to my knees with her vice grip power. Again I submitted instantly. "Now look sissyboy I have you scheduled for a set, color service, and a make-up demo today. So between now and five you are going dress like a sissy, look like a sissy, and act like a sissy. After five you can be anything you want. But until then you are sissyboy first, last, and always. You know the last sissyboy was even more rebellious than you. I had my friend Tyrone use his nine-incher on him. When Tyrone sent the fifth good load down his throat that little sissyboy got his shit straight. These women have paid good money for these seminars and I'm not going to let some male ego spoil it for me. So if you don't want Tyrone giving you an attitude adjustment I would get your girlish act together and get it together fast." Reluctantly I agreed. "Cheer up sissy you will done by five and next weekend you won't have to go through the transformation stage. You can just be your little girlish self the whole weekend." *** I still could not believe it. Fourteen hours earlier I was modeling for a haircut show. It was to be the easiest hundred dollars I ever made. I thought a one-hour haircut in from of some hairstylists and a great night in San Francisco. I might even have a chance with my superfox hairstylist. Boy was I wrong! Here I am being forced to spend the entire day dressed as a woman. Even worse I'm going to be used as a female model all day. Karen, the superfox stylist is totally dominating me and I am helpless against her. In the last twelve hours I have been publicly humiliated, emasculated, and feminized. Privately I think I might have been raped by a woman that weighs less than me. Last night she performed the ultimate humiliation by forcing me to use the same bed with her but not being able to touch her. I have just finished my shower and the day is young and I am in total fear of what the day may bring. "I have your outfit here pussyboy. First put this thing on its a combination girdle and padded bra. I've decided you should be no more than a 34C this morning. I might give you all little more boob this afternoon. With your small frame this size will give you an ample amount without being too much." she informed me in her all too typical calm manner. Her matter-of-fact manner was the most humiliating part of this whole ordeal. She knew her control over me was so great that she didn't even bother show concern. A woman would probably not allow Karen to dictate what type of undergarments to wear. A teenage girl would protest mightily but she knew I had to take it and respond without question. "Also you are really going to love this thing. It's a dick dress. A little dress that fits over your dick. It has a little strap in the back that holds it in place. I just love the symbolism. A tiny little dress holding your dick down." she giggled intently as she described it. She made me stand in front of the mirror while she fastened it in place. I could barely take anymore of this and it was only 7:30. Next she made me put on my mesh nylons and heels. She then made me stand in the room while she finished dressing. She seated me in front of the sink and applied my makeup, using substantially more than she did last night. She also placed a small amount in my clutch purse with instructions that I should touch it up myself when needed. While she was finishing the makeup the maid knocked on the door. Karen let the maids in. They could barely conceal their giggles. Karen finished drying my hair with the diffuser and finished it with the curling iron, making sure the maid noticed. It was no accident Karen had me clad only in foundation garments, heels, hose, and that awful "dick dress". She simply had decided that she would use me to entertain the maids that morning. She slipped a too tight red satin skirt and frilly silk blouse on me and dabbed some perfume in a few strategic spots. "Okay sissyboy lets go get some breakfast. You know Marvin I think I should give you a name other than sissyboy. How about Julie or Jolene? What do you think would be a good name for him given his new status?" she inquired of the maids. "Jolene. Definitely Jolene." one responded with an arrogant smirk. The other one nodded in agreement. Both appeared to enjoy watching my humiliation. "Jolene it is then Marvin. I like Jolene."