Melvin a Whateley Tale Part 3
- 3 years ago
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I Look Like What? - Part Two free porn video
Note to readers: Perhaps more than any other author, I have admired Kate,
who gave us Sissy Therapy and the Sissy Mister. Both cry out for sequels.
Her compliments are much appreciated. Here's part two. Let's see how far
it goes.
I Look Like What? -- Part Two
Today definitely was the day I told Rhonda off. She had a few pictures of
me. So what! I crossdressed at work. It wasn't a crime, was it? Okay, it
was embarrassing but that isn't fatal, I told myself. She couldn't kill me,
could she? Bottom line, I just couldn't let her steal my life. It gets
complicated but here's the short version.
My grandfather founded the firm and made millions. He put the fortune in
trust and there are trustees. My father had to go before the trustees and
qualify for his payout. We call our piece of the pie our "Legacy." It
works out to about $6 million each, pretty sweet but there are strings. You
have to have worked at some point for the company. You have to do something
worthwhile (like a steady job) and you must be of "sound judgment." That's
why I went along with Rhonda's blackmail. Was her "dirt" file enough to
knock me out of my Legacy?
So, I did what any good American does. I got lawyers. Paid them a bundle
to make me a loophole. The way they have spun it, the rules say I had
qualify, even if Rhonda does her worst. I work (for that bitch, true, but a
steady job at that) and community relations is valuable, if not brain
surgery. Even if dressing is a little outr?, I could show lots of stuff
that I had done that proved my judgment was perfectly fine. But all of that
was beside the point. I just couldn't let her change me any more.
Christmas had been horrible. I was back at the Mall as Santa's most
fabulous helper. Remember Loretta Young, the actress, who had a TV show in
the Fifties. She would swirl in through the doorway, full skirts billowing.
They dressed me in a red taffeta dress, very full with stiff petticoats
holding the skirt way out. A white fur jacket. Capped sleeves showed off
black arm's-length gloves. Paste pav? necklace and bracelets, matching
chandelier earrings. A Marilyn flip under a silly Santa hat. Yep, another
horribly dated, attention demanding outfit that made me the punchline of
Rhonda's fashion sight gag. So retro that my flashy tastelessness was beside
the point. Watch me pirouette through the sequin-covered gates of Santa's
castle. Smile and pose. Flash go a dozen cameras. Pose with the kids? Of
course not! I sit on the Daddy's laps, feel them push and wiggle underneath
my slippery skirts, leaving me no choice but to smile for the birdie.
Humiliated again in public, watching the Mommies laugh at my predicament.
Like 200 times a day.
The day after Christmas, I put my foot down. No more humiliating
appearances, no more outrageous dress-up. I told Rhonda that I didn't care
if the trustees knew what I did, it didn't matter and nothing she could do
could block my Legacy. After all, I saw the trustees in eight months. What
could she do?
Of course, I was wrong. It started at lunchtime. I had just finished a
Caesar salad and started to leave the cafeteria when one of Rhonda's toadies
shocked me with a prod. Then another one of her little bitches started.
All I had to do was throw up. I tried to fight them off but they wouldn't
stop and finally I gave up. I stuck a finger down my throat and forced
myself to heave. They gave me some water and then a cigarette. I sighed
and lit up, so much for kicking the habit. After two weeks, it was almost
automatic. Eat and then stand in front of a mirror and announce in lisping,
fey tones how fat I was, purge myself and then light up. I dropped weight
at a shocking pace. I'm not very tall, only 5'6," and slim. After a month,
I was positively skeletal and a perfect size 2.
Tuesday and Thursdays are salon days. I knew something was up right away.
Giselle pinned my hair up and sectioned a line across my nape at the top of
my ears. Clippers shaved me nearly bald from the line down. They colored
my hair but wouldn't let me see. Lots of curlers in rows, bangs hanging
forward. I could feel Giselle trimming my new bangs to meet the curves of
my eyebrows. In short order, they had me in a prissy little black suit, the
skirt straight and just above the knee over white hose and black patent
ankle boots. Every seam the suit had was piped in white satin. So fussy,
so overdone.
Now they let me see myself. Outrageously thin, a big burgundy updo, thick
bangs, cupie doll makeup, an absurdly long neck line. Omigod, I'm so
totally fat. I can't believe how fat I look in this suit. I lit up a
cigarette, that felt better. I wanted to throw up, I mean, how could Rhonda
turn me into an absolute cow like this? And of course the evil witch
picked out a suit that screamed I had lard hanging from my hips. I wanted
to kill her. I'll have to diet maybe for like months or something because
of her. Oh yeah, the suit was a little much but the hair wasn't all that
bad. I could live with that. A little flashy but, you know... what mattered
was how gross I was. Definitely, I was bringing up anything these bitches
tried to feed me. After all, I had good judgment. I was totally going to
look great for the trustees. Best TV who ever got a Legacy. Never too
rich. Never too thin. Rhonda was gonna fail. She couldn't change me any
more. I was going to stand up for myself now but first I needed to lose
five pounds. Then, I'd show her.
Hortense
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