The Proposition free porn video

THE PROPOSITION My divorce was painful. My wife Sharon had finally had all she could take of my constant begging to let me have more free space to engage in my chronic desire to cross dress. Even as far back as childhood I was always interested in hair and makeup. I would cut out pictures from magazines and add them to my special secret collection. It was easy to hide it from my parents among all my books and magazines about science and art. I easily made it through technical college but in my heart I would much have preferred to go to beauty school. But that was not a choice in my family culture of all things proper even in our lower economic strata. After graduation I met Sharon. She was very attractive and I was sure she was all I needed to forget about my little obsession. After five years of mutually unpleasant matrimony she told me she had had enough of my perversion and wanted her freedom to find herself a real man. Since she had a well-paying job as an executive administrative assistant she let me off easy by demanding only $1000 per month alimony for 10 years. I signed the papers in her lawyer's office and decided to leave the east coast and start over on the west coast. I was in my late twenties and my career was in setting up computer- network systems. I quickly found new employment. Once settled in the cheapest apartment I could find, I focused on pursuing my passion. I went online and made a list of several beauty salons that had the more provocative websites which seemed most likely to help me to dress up. I could have easily gone to any of several transformation services available but I got a special kick out of being made over at upscale salons. It had however become a bit frustrating for me because I could never manage to get the look I kept yearning for. In a way I sympathized with my ex-wife's impatience with my obsession. But with all that behind me I decided to intensify my search and I called the first choice on my list. The salon was called Best Friends Salon of Beauty and their website featured several hairstyles that looked more exotic than those that appeared in all the other sites. My heart was pounding rapidly when the receptionist answered in a most pleasing manner. I took a deep breath and slowly explained what I wanted. Fearing a "go away" reply she instead told me she would transfer my call to Laura the manager of the salon. My heart beat must have doubled. Laura had an even friendlier tone than the receptionist and she noted my nervousness and told me to relax. She slowly dragged out of me every detail possible of what I was looking for. She ended by saying that she might be able to help me but that she first had to meet me in person to confirm that she could really deliver on my expectations. I called on a Wednesday and she told me to come in the next day around 8:00PM since they tended to stay open later than usual because of their largely professional clientele. The next day I found it difficult to concentrate on my work and I promptly finished at 6:00, to run home, shower, and drive to my "interview". Again my heart was beating rapidly with excitement and I felt chills run up and down my spine. I arrived early and drove around the block a few times before deciding it was time to face the music. The front of the salon was done up in oodles of chrome and black marble. Several large framed prints were scattered on both sides of the entrance with hairstyles similar to the ones appearing in their website. As I reached for the door handle I noticed a Help Wanted sign hanging in the window looking for a part time receptionist. As I entered, a pleasing chime announced my arrival and the receptionist that had first answered my call greeted me and told me to take a seat. Her name was Rita and she had flame-red hair pulled up in a long pony tail. Her smile helped to settle my nervousness while she went to the back of the salon to inform Laura that I was there. In a couple of minutes Laura came out to greet me and lightly shook my hand. My heart started racing again as I soaked up her intense beauty. She had beautiful auburn hair cut in a bob with giant fluffy bangs. Her eyes were out of this world and it took all I had to follow her back to her office without tripping over my own feet. She asked me to be seated in front of her desk and then she studied my face for a period of time that seemed like an eternity until she asked me to use both my hands to pull back my hair away from my face. I had been letting my hair grow and it now reached down to my neck. As I pulled on my hair she asked me to look from side to side and to pull back a little tighter. She then told me to smile and to hold it for as long as possible. After about three minutes she told me to relax and asked me my favorite nickname. I told her it was Bobby. She then asked me to take off my shoes and to walk around in circles on my tiptoes. This went on for at least five minutes. Satisfied she then asked me to take off my shirt, suck in my stomach, and to turn around slowly a few times. When she noticed my hesitation she assured me I had nothing to be embarrassed about and that she needed this to make sure she could help me. She then handed me a measuring tape and told me to give her my waist size with my stomach sucked in, my chest, and also my hip size. Then she wanted the size of my neck just under my chin. She wrote down all the numbers. Her last request was to remove my pants to take a look at my legs. Again she had to coax me to comply. She again told me to walk in a circle on my tiptoes. Apparently satisfied with what she had observed she told me to put my clothes back on and to sit down again. She asked me some questions about my job and weather or not I had to work on weekends. I explained that my job was only Monday through Friday. Pleased with my reply she then proceeded to describe what she referred to as a "proposition". She asked me if by any chance I had noticed the Help Wanted sign in the front window. Acknowledging that I had, she lamented that they were having a very difficult time filling that position because they only needed somebody on Saturdays to help Rita because Saturdays was their busiest day. She then referred to her proposition as a quid-pro-quo. She would help me dress up like a woman at no cost to me and I would be Rita's assistant every Saturday. After closing I could join her and her two room mates for after-hour festivities. Overwhelmed by her proposal I stuttered out my apprehension that her customers would laugh their guts out when they saw me all dressed up. She assured me that she and her staff could make me look like a very convincing woman if I went along with all her requirements. When I asked for more details about her requirements she told me to have faith in her and that there was only one thing they had to discuss to confirm agreement because it would be a showstopper if I had a problem with it. When I asked what that was she prefaced unloading her bomb by explaining to me that while her clientele was of a more liberal nature, they would only show tolerance if it was crystal clear that we had all gone full out to do the very best makeup possible on me. I then waited for her punch line. She explained that she could only do the required makeup on me if I first let her shave off my eyebrows. At first I sat there dumb founded and countered that it would be okay if she plucked my eyebrows a little bit. She countered back that even lots of plucking would not allow her to achieve the look she had in mind for me. Besides she reminded me that it would be awkward to return to work with thin, feminine arched brows while shaving would allow her to glue back on normal masculine eyebrows that at worst would look like I had opted for the new metro look. She further explained these eyebrows were now very realistic and had been refined to fill the needs of cancer-radiation patients. She then reached in her desk drawer and pulled out a black case that contained the very brows she intended to give me for returning to my "day job". When I actually saw how real they looked my apprehension evaporated and I told her I wanted to accept her generous proposition. She then said one more little thing - in order to use the earrings she had in mind for me she would also have to pierce my ears. Before I could complain she pointed out that for my day job, tan-colored place-holders would make my piercing barely noticeable but still prevent my holes from closing up. Again relieved that I should have no problem at work I nodded OK. She reached out and shook my hand to seal the deal. She told me to return Friday at 6:00PM to take care of some preliminary preparations for Saturday morning. I left the salon feeling more excited than I had felt in a long time. I went to bed replaying my interview with the beautiful Laura and trying to block out my mind any doubts about my acquiescence to this special woman. The next day the time seemed to drag on because I kept wanting to run home to get ready again for my next encounter at the Best Friends Salon. Finally I finished my last project and I rushed home to get ready. When I arrived at the salon, Rita escorted me to the back of the salon and introduced me to Greta their skin specialist. Greta was a stern looking woman with thick black hair done in an incredible ducktail. She had a beautiful forehead that met with her hairline where her hair was lacquered straight up for a good 3 inches before it swept back to meet the tip of her ducktail. The sides of her hair were equally lacquered and also flowed back to meet in the back. In the back her hair swept up and towards the middle to form her luscious tail. I was totally hypnotized by this work of art. Greta told me to change into a white terry-cloth robe but had to repeat her request because I was so distracted by her exotic hairstyle. Once changed, she had me hop up on her padded table and explained she would be doing extensive waxing. The entire process took about an hour and when she finished I had smooth, hairless legs, arms, hands, back, stomach, and armpits. She then used a Q-Tip to apply wax to my ears and even inside the entrance to each ear. Whereas the waxing was not a very comfortable activity, none of it was a tenth as bad as when she inserted a new Q-Tip into my left nostril. Before the hot wax could cool she stuffed gauze into my nostril and waited for it to interlace with the wax and my nose hair. She then pressed my head against her ribs, told me to take a deep breath, and grit my teeth. With a swift yank she pulled all the hair out of my nostril by the roots. The pain was incredible. Greta stroked my hair and complemented me on my dedication to the project. Without any pause she prepared another Q-Tip for my right nostril and again she pressed my head to her ribs. This time I was more prepared and endured the agony with a little bit more dignity. When she finished I was able to soothe my pain by rubbing my nose with both hands. Next Greta reached for a red felt tip pen with her right hand and with her left hand began massaging my left earlobe. She then placed a dot right in the center. She then did my right earlobe. She then cocked and loaded a piercing gun, gave me a quick smile, and then shot my left earlobe. The pain wasn't as bad as I expected and I just sat there admiring my new gold-ball stud while Greta reloaded. My right ear soon balanced out with my left. Greta explained how I should take care of my piercing plus she gave me a little box with the tan-colored place-holders that Laura had promised me. Actually the pain in my nostrils was still much worst than my earlobes. At this point in time a young guy joined us and Greta waited for me to gain some composure so she could tell me that this was Sammy and he would be preparing my hair for the next day. Sammy was very good looking and had long brown hair pulled back in a thick pony tail that reached the middle of his back. He led me by the hand to his station and sat me down in his chrome and black leather chair. He explained that Laura had specified that tomorrow I would be wearing a hair piece which he would prepare in the morning and that tonight he needed to give me a haircut that was in fact a key feature of the style Laura had specified for me. He started off by pulling all my hair into a pony tail of sorts which pointed straight up to the ceiling. He then took his scissors and cut straight across about six inches above my head. He then combed a part around the sides and back of my head and gathered up the hair on top and held it up out of the way with a clip. He then fired up his clippers and commenced buzzing my sideburn off and continued right up to the part he had created. He then did the other side of my head and continued towards the back. He then had me bow my head as low as possible and he buzzed my nape all the way up to the part he had combed at the crown of my head. My hair was now about an eighth of an inch long all around the sides and back of my head. I was in essence left with a patch of long hair on the top of my head just a little bit bigger than the size of my hand. He then took a scrunchie and made me a short pony tail that hung down the back of my head. I expressed my concern about showing up at my job with such a goofy haircut and he chuckled and told me he would bring me a nice baseball cap to wear until I got used to my new look. He then told me about other haircuts guys were now wearing that were a lot weirder. Greta then reappeared and asked me if I had ever had a colonic before. I explained I had not and she smiled telling me that there's always a first time for everything. She handed me a card with the address of a hydrotherapist named Linda. She told me she was located three blocks away and was expecting me and to return to the salon when I was done. I asked Greta why I needed to have this and she explained that Laura wanted me squeaky clean both outside and inside to more closely approach the feminine ideal I had requested. I didn't fully understand the logic but I didn't want to seem uncooperative so I quickly headed to my car. Linda was a large, tall lady with a wide smile. She assured me it would not hurt and that I might even enjoy it if I could get myself into the right state of mind. She unwrapped a new nozzle and hose set which she explained was disposable after use. The nozzle was about as thick and long as a cigar. She led me into her treatment room and had me disrobe again. She patted her hand on her padded table and told me to hop on. After I lay down she inserted two stainless-steel stirrups into the end of the table and helped me insert my feet. I could not believe I was laying there with my butt exposed in front of this woman I had barely met ten minutes ago. She noticed I was embarrassed and assured me that she had seen many bare bottoms and that I would feel really good when she was done. She applied some lubricant to the nozzle and slowly inserted it into my rectum and then connected the plastic hose to her hydro equipment. She then flicked a switch and I began to feel warm liquid entering my colon. The pump actually had a soothing hum and I started to relax. Linda explained that the solution was entering my colon, cleaning me within, and then flowing back out through an exit hose. At that point was when I noticed the hose was actually a pair of tubes. One tube looked clear and the other dark. After about 45 minutes both tubes looked clear and Linda declared me clean. She had me get dressed and explained Laura had already paid my bill. She asked me how I felt and I told her I had to confess the treatment was not too uncomfortable and that I did in fact feel lighter. She smiled and told me she hoped to see me soon again. I drove back to the salon as Greta had instructed and when I entered, the only person left in the salon was a perky slim blonde. She introduced herself as Johanna and told me she would be doing my pedicure and manicure. She locked the door and told me to sit down and take off my socks. She had already warmed up the foot bath in her giant spa chair and she told me to soak my feet while she worked on my hands. She told me she would be giving me a set of acrylic nails and that Laura had specified that they be one full inch beyond my finger tips. Johanna had the sexiest spiky haircut and she just glowed with a great smile - very different from the stern Greta. I wondered out loud how I would be able to return to my apartment that night and then leave again in the morning. Johanna told me to take a look at the coat rack and that the purple wind breaker hanging there was for me - that it had deep pockets and that all I had to do was keep my hands hidden and to only take them out when absolutely necessary like unlocking my car or my apartment. She advised me to first take a quick look around before taking out my hand - plus it was now late enough in the evening that not too many people would be out and that I was to return in the morning at 6:00AM and that not many people would be out at that early hour on a Saturday. It all sounded logical and I didn't worry about it any longer and just let her get on with the job. After she cut, trimmed, and roughed up my nails, she started the process of apply the acrylic goop that unified my nail to the fake acrylic nail which was at least two inches long with an exotic curve. She explained that she would be cutting them back to the specified one-inch length. After a bit more than half-an-hour she finished the gluing process. She then cut the nails and used an electric grinder to trim the tips and the overall nail. She made the tips square with rounded corners. My back was starting to ache from sitting so long in a strained position holding my hands forward on her work table. She then sent me to a nearby sink to wash my hands. Before sitting down again she told me to take out my car keys to later avoid scratching my nail polish while digging in my pockets to pull them out. She then shook the nail polish bottle and started with my left thumb. The color was a deep shiny burgundy color. It looked really exotic. She hinted that my lipstick would be the same color. When she finally finished she had me point all my fingers up towards the ceiling and that I was not to move my hands until she said to; otherwise I could smudge my polish. She then got to work on my toenails and after twenty minutes they received the same polish. She had me sit there with little separators between all the toes. My new nails were gorgeous and that's when it hit me again as to the lengths these folks were going to in order to transform me into a believable receptionist's assistant. Johanna checked my toenails to see if my polish was dry yet several times. She finally declared me done and helped me to stand up. She helped me put on the windbreaker and showed me a business card which she put in one of my pockets. She told me I was to report to that address at 6:30 in the morning and that Leonardo would give me the closest shave I've ever had. She told me he was a master barber. With that she showed me to the exit and told me to be careful opening my car door to avoid scratching my polish. I drove home very carefully and set my alarm to wake up at 5:30 to not be late for my shave. In the morning while taking my shower I got a little freaked out looking at my burgundy nails and feeling my buzzed hair on my head and neck. It was a welcomed relief to not have to waste time shaving. I was also amazed at the smoothness of my hairless chest and legs. I quickly got dressed, grabbed my new windbreaker and I was parking in front of Leonardo's shop at 6:30 sharp. As I approached the front door the maestro opened the door for me and greeted me with a big "Good Morning". When he saw my reluctance to letting him help me off with my windbreaker he laughed and told me he knew about my finger nails and that he was totally onboard with the entire project. He further explained that he and Laura were friends from way back. He tilted his massive barber chair back at a 45 degree angle. Soon my face was smothered in a piping hot towel. After letting me steep for a few minutes Leonardo began stroking his straight razor on his leather belt. When he had the sharpness he wanted, he removed my towel and started stirring up his mug of shaving cream. He applied the lather gently to my cheeks, upper lip, chin, and neck. With long slow stokes he slid the razor over my skin leaving me smoother than a baby's bottom. I had never experienced such a close shave in my entire life. He then tilted the chair back some more and looked at me with a serious look. He explained that he could not be held responsible if my eyebrows did not grow back the same as they were presently. Was I sure I wanted to go through with this. I told him that I was. He first took out his clippers and ran them over each of my brows. I was surprised by the lack of ceremony he devoted to my drastic ordeal. Soon he was applying more lather over my brow bones. He once again stroked his razor over his belt and then stretched my left temple back and began scraping my eyebrow off. As he executed short strokes the sound of the scraping gave me goose bumps. When he reached the top of my nose he stopped and walked around to my other side. Now he stretched my right temple back and started shaving the outer part of my brow towards the center. He then took a hot damp towel and wiped off the excess lather above my eyes. He then whipped up some more shaving cream and brushed over my brows bones all over again. I could not believe he was shaving my eyebrows again. He explained that Laura wanted a really good job and that he aimed to not disappoint her. Leonardo brought his chair back to the upright position and handed me a mirror to take a look. I could not believe how weird I looked with shaved eyebrows. Leonardo helped me put on my windbreaker and showed me to the door with a big "Good Luck". When I entered the salon Laura emerged from the back and gave me a big hug. She then put her hands on my temples and stroked my bare brow bones with her thumbs. She briefly closed her eyes and uttered a quiet "Smooooth!". She then took me by the hand and led me to their makeup area. She sat me down and started teasing my hair all along my hairline followed by sticky hairspray. Before it could dry she inserted a small comb along the hairline above the outer edge of each eye. She then teased the hair at the back of my hair patch and inserted another comb in the center. She then took a short thick rubber band and stretched it between the comb on my left-front and the comb in the back. The right-front followed with a second rubber band. She in essence implemented an eye lift without surgery. The only problem was the discomfort of having my hair pulled back on each side. Laura assured me I would get used to it. She then started applying foundation to my face using darker and lighter shades for contouring. It was weird to see my face totally blank with no eyebrows. The overall texture on my face was a peachy-looking matte finish. Eyeliner was next along my inner eye on both bottom and top for each eye. Now I was able to see some definition on my blank face in the big mirror. Next came eye shadow - rose and dark blue - with a lot of brushing and blending. Then a very dark grey on the outer lids starting at the center of the lid and extending out and up. The rubber band eyelift had already given my eyes an exotic slant and now the eye shadow amplified the slant even more. Next came artificial eye lashes. I couldn't believe the size and thickness. They were half-an-inch or more. She used ample glue to avoid problems later on. Next she covered the glue line with liquid eyeliner. I was totally mesmerized by how great my eyes looked. My view in the large mirror was soon blocked as Laura positioned a stencil over my left eye. I was about to receive the eyebrows Laura had so emphatically insisted were necessary to achieve the look she had in mind for me. She told me the stencil shape was called "Betty D's". She took her time to settle on the exact position and angle she wanted and then started filling in the stencil with a dark brown eyebrow pencil. She immediately continued with my right brow so her hands continued to block my view. As she finished and removed the stencil I was astonished at the brows Laura had given me. They were amazing. They swept up into a beautiful arch and then came down slightly as they tapered out. My eyes looked huge. I now understood why Laura had insisted I let her shave off my eyebrows. That was the only way to achieve such an exotic look. My new brows were positioned well above my shaved brows. Next came blusher - Laura held a piece of cardboard at an angle against my cheek and brushed on a heavy dose - she repeated the brushing on my other cheek. There was no mistaking that I was wearing blusher. The final step was my lipstick. It seemed to take forever as Laura slowly brushed on the burgundy color Johanna had hinted at - the color was identical to my nail polish. Laura repeatedly dipped her brush into a lipstick tube and stroked my lips. Since Mother Nature had not given me the thickest lips available, Laura had to overdraw considerably to get her desired effect. The color was followed by a good amount of lip gloss. My face was now complete and I could not believe how great I looked. I had never before looked so exotic and so glamorous. Laura kidded me how I looked like such a sissy with short hair and makeup. She said I would soon have more hair. Before helping me stand up she took out a black velvet jewelry box, opened it and showed me my new earrings. They were huge. Each earring was a cluster of lots of strings of gold beads. The strings were staggered in length but over all about 4 inches long and they gushed from a center hemisphere like a fountain spray. Laura removed the stud from my left earlobe and inserted my first earring. It was incredibly heavy and a bit painful since my piercing was so recent. Normally people wait a few weeks before graduating beyond the initial studs. Laura assured me I would get used to the weight and soon had my right earring installed. I was intrigued by threaded studs used on these earrings. Laura explained that the screw-on keepers were necessary to prevent losing an earring. When she finished I just sat there contemplating the exotic creature in the mirror. The clusters of gold beads seemed to flow from my earlobes and cascade down. Laura soon broke my trance by standing me up and leading me by the hand to Greta's area. My heartbeat rate increased just remembering my nostril waxing from the prior day. Laura explained that Greta would be taking care of a few preliminaries before I got my hair done. As Laura turned and walked back to her office she gave me a wave good-bye over her shoulder and sang out "Have fun!" Greta had me remove my shirt while she held a silicone breast form in one hand and a red felt tip pen in the other. When I was ready she placed the breast form over my left nipple and positioned it carefully before marking the outline on my skin. This was repeated on my other side. She then applied an adhesive within both circles. Again with great care she pressed the first breast within the red circle on my left and then took my hand and placed it over the breast form and told me to press it firmly against my chest and not to let go till she told me to. This was repeated for my other side. I felt really awkward standing there holding two large breasts against my chest. Greta grinned and then showed me what looked like a small butt-plug with a wire hanging out of it about 6 inches long. Greta explained that this was in fact my pager. She further explained that Laura had the needed electronics installed into the hollowed out plug and the wire was the antenna. She explained that the battery should last about 24 hours. As I stood there shaking my head "No way!", Greta warned me that Laura would be greatly disappointed if I objected to such a small object. She further explained that Laura had paid dearly to have it customized on such short notice. Greta assured me that within one hour I would not even feel it inside me. Not wanting to in any way cross Laura after all the attention she had bestowed on me I then quietly mouthed "ooh kaay". She instructed me to turn around and as I turned I was startled to realize Rita was standing behind me. Rita smiled and instructed me to bend over and that she would hold me by the shoulders since my hands were occupied holding my breast forms. As I bent over Rita sat on a short stool so that we ended up looking each other eye to eye. Rita commented on how lovely I looked. As I smiled back Greta pulled down my pants and shorts. She said she was applying lots of lubricant so I would not feel much discomfort. She said it would only hurt going in and once inserted I would hardly feel any pressure. As she gently pressed and rotated the plug my entire body started to rock and soon my earrings started to also rock and rotate in sync with Greta's efforts. Rita told me to take a deep breath and as I did, Greta pushed the plug all the way in. I was relieved to realize that Greta was not exaggerating when she promised me it would only hurt going in. The only really bad part was the continuous feeling that I needed to go to the bathroom. It was really strange since I knew that Linda's colonic had removed that need the night before. I was ready to end my little ordeal since I was now standing there butt naked front and back. The last detail with the plug was to tape the wire antenna straight up at my waist. As Rita returned to her desk in front, Greta showed me my new gaff. It was black and made of a thick smooth material. As Greta had me step into it, I was embarrassed that she had to position my organs within the gaff pouch since my hands were occupied.. She then pulled hard on the straps that went between my legs and up my crack and connected to the gaff's belt. The straps pressed against my plug and aggravated my full feeling. Next came pantyhose. They were a coffee color and were void of any reinforcement from tiptoe to waist. Greta had me lean against a wall as I lifted my foot so she could roll on the first leg. After she had it started she did the other leg. Now she grabbed the top and firmly pulled it all the rest of the way up to my waist. She then started back at my feet and pulled and stretched the nylon material till it was tight over my skin. My next garment was a corset. For this Rita came back again to assist as Greta tightened the laces very tightly. Before Greta could say another word I already knew what she was about to tell me: "You'll get used to it". Rita now helped me stand as Greta got down on the floor to put my shoes on. They were black open toe heels with straps that buckled around my ankle. The heels were 4 inches and she had three boxes with different sizes. They were quite prepared. She tried on all three sizes and finally went with the pair that fit me a bit snug. Greta assured me they would stretch as she gathered up all the boxes. While still pressing my big breasts to my chest Rita lead me by the elbow to Sammy's styling chair. I could hardly walk on my high heels. I had never tried any shoes higher than 3 inches before. I was amazed at the clicking sound my heels made on the hardwood floors of the salon. As we approached his chair, Sammy finished straightening out his work area and turned to greet me with "Girl, I love your paint! Please sit down". I felt so weird sitting down cautiously while holding my silicone friends. As my weight fully came down onto the chair, the pager felt really strange - as if it was connected to the seat and I had just impaled myself. I tried not to show my discomfort to Sammy as he did some preparation on my hair patch followed by a lot of hairspray. He then spun my chair around facing away from his mirror. He explained that he did not want me to see my hair till he was done. He even asked me to close my eyes to make sure. I did as he asked. I could feel him stretching the hairpiece he had told me about over my hair patch followed by an infinite number of hairpins to insure it was securely attached. After about an hour of an incredible amount of teasing and combing and spraying, Sammy finally pointed my chair back to the mirror and told me I could now open my eyes. As I opened my thick-lashed eyes I was flabbergasted - I was now a platinum blonde. Sammy had in essence created what seemed like an infinite number of individual strands that swept out from my forehead, up, and then back; the hair swept down and out about 4 inches and then up to an overall height of about 8 inches above my eyebrows. Sammy was careful not to obscure my new brows. On the sides, my blonde hair slanted like a wedge that intersected with my own dark buzzed hair. The contrast of colors was very stark. My buzzed hair was still visible from one sideburn all around the back to the other sideburn; so my bare nape was still very bare. As in the front, the blonde hair reached back 4 inches from my bare nape. The wedge on each side also flared out about 4 inches. I was so excited taking in my new image that I suddenly realized that my long nails had sunk deeply into my silicone breasts. Suddenly Greta was at my side helping me stand up. I thanked Sammy and followed Greta back to her area. Greta then showed me my dress. It was made of a black shimmery fabric and my initial impression was that there did not seem to be much material in her hands. I rationalized that this must only be a top and that she would soon show me the rest of the outfit. She had me step into the dress and she pulled it up to my chest level. It had a halter top with built in bra cups. At long last I was allowed to let go of my left silicone breast while Greta positioned it inside the bra cup. I was now required to place my hand over the breast again but now covered by the dress halter strap. This was repeated for the other side and I now once again stood there with both my hands holding my big boobs. Greta then went around behind me and took hold of the two halter straps and tied a knot at the back of my neck. Finally I was allowed to let go of my massive globes for good. I could now feel their weight tugging on my chest in spite of the halter- bra combination. It suddenly became clear there was no additional part of the outfit. This was it. The dress had an empire waist that wrapped around just under my breasts and left my back totally bare except for the ends of the halter straps which hung down about 3 inches from the knot. The rest of the material hung loosely in soft drapes and ended well above my knees. It seemed the hem was closer to my gaff than to my knees. No question about it - this was a very short dress. Greta walked around me a few times tugging here and there to her satisfaction. As I focused on Greta's facial body language and her ducktail I was suddenly surprised to notice that Laura had once again joined us. She carried another jewelry box which she handed to Greta so she could take out a gold-plated choker. It looked like it was a good 3 inches wide and I stood still as Laura placed it around my neck and fastened it in the back. This adornment would also require some tolerance in that it was far from loose-fitting. The choker was apparently a companion piece to the earrings and seemed to be fashioned from the same beaded material. Fortunately I was not cursed with much of an Adam's apple but the choker removed all doubt. Laura then stood in front of me and declared "Bobbie, you look terrific!" I agreed with her and thanked her for all the great work. Then started the most excruciatingly difficult part of my preparation. Laura explained how I was to walk from that point forward. First she took her index finger and placed it under my chin and pushed up till my head was very slightly tilted back. She admonished me that I was never to lower my head from that angle. Next she had me smile nice and wide and again I was to always maintain a big smile. She then stepped behind me and took hold of my bare shoulders and pulled back telling me to pretend I was trying to make my shoulder blades touch. She then took my arms and told me to press my forearms against my ribs while maintaining them in a horizontal position parallel to the floor. Then came the worst part - she took my hands and bent both my wrists down and told me I was to keep my long nails pointed at the floor at all times and with my fingers spread apart just enough to keep them from touching each other. I felt like I had just been put into a straight jacket. Then came Part 2 - walking. Laura turned me towards the front of the salon and explained that I would be spending the next 60 minutes practicing how to walk. This also had exact specifications. I was to take each step by placing my foot on an imaginary straight line. Always point my feet straight ahead placing the ball of my foot down first followed by the heel. Always take the shortest steps possible and rapidly as if I was late for an appointment. In addition I was to keep my thighs tightly pressed together so much so that I should hear a swishing sound as my nylon pantyhose around my thighs rubbed together. I expressed my concern that I would not be able to remember all these "rules". Laura totally agreed with me and pointed out that was exactly why I would be practicing for 60 minutes before I joined Rita at the front desk to do her bidding. In addition she explained that she, Greta, and Johanna each had a little remote transmitter that would activate my internal "pager" to give me a buzz any time they noticed that I needed to review my "rules" in my mind and to make a correction. Just before taking my first step I could not help thinking my situation was similar to when the Wright Brothers made their initial flight at Kitty Hawk. I was very nervous. I very much wanted to please Laura and the girls but I was embarrassed to be walking in such a sissified manner. As if Laura could read my mind she turned me around to where I could see myself in a full-length mirror. I looked absolutely gorgeous. I liked everything they had done to me but I had to admit to myself that there was no denying it was still evident to a discriminating eye that I was still a very effeminate male. Every aspect was over-the-top exaggerated - the hair - the makeup - those eyebrows - the big boobs - the short dress - the high heels. I in fact looked like a bimbo albeit a very elegant bimbo. But I could not deny that I really, really liked what I was seeing in that mirror. This was a creature that as a man I would enjoy dating. I was especially impressed by my legs. I had great legs! It was now a bit clearer as to how Laura was sizing me up during my first encounter with her - why she had me undress and prance around on my tiptoes. She had now enhanced my best assets and camouflaged my liabilities. I really liked that platinum-blonde bimbo in the mirror. A loud clap of the hands snapped me out of my trance - Laura loudly announced "Time to get started. WALK!" I was dieing. It was like the old saying about patting your head while rubbing your stomach. I felt so awkward. I had about a 30 foot runway to travel before doing an about face and repeating the walk. Once again I had to admit that Laura had me mincing - truly a sissy walk. But as time went on, it dawned on me that if I put some effort into it maybe I could try looking more like a model on the catwalk and less like the sissy I feared. Sure enough with each round trip I felt better about the rules and my smile became more natural and voluntary. I was also getting used to the corset, rubber bands in my hair, choker, earrings, high heels, heavy boobs, and the pager stuffed in my behind. Rita showed me all the in's and out's of running the reception desk. She showed me neat tricks like how to dial the phone with a pencil eraser to avoid scratching my beautiful nails. Before I knew it closing time rolled around and Laura came over to invite me out for an after-work drink. I thought they were going to undress me but their plan included no such logical step. They took me to their favorite night club where soft rock music was the norm. Sammy even joined us. Each girl and Sammy took turns dancing with me. My feet were killing me but I kept quiet. That night the girls took me to their fabulous townhouse and I serviced each of the girls with my tongue. I spent the rest of the night sleeping with my third stop which happened to be Greta. Before falling asleep, Greta allowed me to muss up her beautiful hairdo. I got such a charge out of doing that and was amazed how really long her hair had to be in order to have such a massive ducktail. The aroma of her hairspray and the thick texture of her dense black hair were intoxicating. The next morning the girls had a special request: Would I be willing to get a tattoo to complement my exotic look. Where? Right in the middle of my back. What design? A big colorful butterfly - about 6 inches wide. With great hesitation I agreed. No sooner had they all smothered me with kisses that they cleaned off all my makeup, shoved me into the shower, dried me off, and shoved me into their car. The tattoo parlor was pretty exotic and the tattoo artist was a hippie from way back. The girls had me wait in a corner while they huddled with the hippie to explain what specific design they wanted. I was seated on a bench that had what looked like a big bean bag at one end. I was instructed to hug the bag while the hippie scooted up behind me on the bench. For the next eight hours he worked on my back. The buzzing sound of his tool was deafening. The pain was incredible but all three girls never left my sight. They brought me drinks and snacks to keep me going till finally the design was done. The girls held up two mirrors so I could see my new (and only) tattoo. It was an astonishing piece of art work. The colors were vivid and subtle at the same time. The girls then hit me with one more request: Would I be willing to have my tongue pierced to make me a more intense lover? I could not believe my ears but their rationale was that since I had to take a 10 day course of antibiotics for the tattoo, why not kill two birds with the same antibiotic. I did not want to disappoint them and again I acquiesced to their requests. The hippie took out a big needle, grabbed my tongue with a piece of gauze and poked away. I just about fainted but the girls gave me a big hug to keep me upright. The hippie twisted a bigger than usual bar bell onto my tongue. I could not decide which hurt more - my tongue or my back. The girls drove me back to their townhouse and put me to bed. The next day they called me in sick to my job so that I could have a chance to recuperate. After a few weeks of very successful dress-up Saturdays and very satisfying love sessions with my tongue and barbell Laura called me into her office and asked me if I would mind taking hormones to soften my skin to make me a better bedtime lover. She said all three girls had discussed this and felt it would be a real plus. Plus she added it might reduce the thickness of my facial hair. I reluctantly agreed because I really enjoyed servicing the girls and I was willing to do anything that would enhance their enjoyment. Laura made me an appointment with her personal doctor. The next day I was in Dr. Savoy's office getting my blood tested plus receiving my first weekly hormone shot. After six weeks passed I was back in Laura's office. She explained that my skin was not much softer and that Dr. Savoy had explained to her that in spite of my feminine nature my body generated an unusually high level of testosterone which was completely overwhelming my hormone treatment. Then Laura asked me the big question: Would I be willing to undergo castration? After a long silence I nodded my head yes. Laura explained to me that Dr. Savoy would actually be giving me a controlled mixture of testosterone and estrogen to soften my skin but to maintain good health. The next day I was in Dr. Savoy's operating room with my legs up in stirrups. The surgery only took about 20 minutes and soon he was taping gauze across my groin to avoid infection. Laura drove me home and made me comfortable on the sofa with an ample supply of magazines to keep me entertained. That evening each time one of the girls walked past the sofa they would stop and plant a big kiss on my waiting lips. That night I was put to bed early without having to service the girls. At this point Laura asked me to quit my computer job and to join them full time. She said that she would take care of my monthly alimony payment. I accepted. I loved all three girls immensely but I was concerned about why I was so unable to say no to their continuous requests. I finally had to admit to myself that I truly enjoyed and accepted everything they had done to me and that I should just relax and realize how much I really liked being a sissy bimbo. Therefore when Laura offered to pay for some plastic surgery to improve my look I willingly accepted. This time Dr. Savoy inserted plastic "snakes" into my upper and lower lips. By snakes I mean short segments that were joined together to make a flexible insert that was about a quarter-inch thick in the middle and tapered to a point at each end. My lips were now huge. He had also made my nose shorter with a slight upturn making my nostrils much more evident. I also now had more prominent cheekbones via inserts which he had installed thru the inside of my mouth. I was absolutely stunned by my eyelift. Dr. Savoy had really done some stretching and now I had a pronounced oriental look and my eyelids were much more visible. What little double chin I had was now completely stretched away. Adams apple bulge - completely gone. In addition I now had breast implants which had been kept to a size A to avoid stretch marks and would gradually be increased as my skin stretched. Laura's desired goal was Double-D. Life at the salon and the townhouse was passing along very nicely till one day Laura introduced me to a new client named Elizabeth whom I had noticed had been very observant of my every move all morning while she had her hair and nails done. Laura explained to me that Elizabeth owned a women's high-end shoe salon and carried various unique brands and styles. Elizabeth suggested that Laura bring me in to try on one particular style that she especially thought would complement my special look. That same Saturday night at 10PM found me and the three girls sitting in Elizabeth's shoe salon listening to her explain how anyone with enough time and dedication could master walking in "Prague Pony Heels". First she explained how I would first need to start off in PPH training shoes which looked like ordinary wedge heels with laces. Then Elizabeth pointed out what was different - the inner sole did not flatten out at the ball of the foot but instead continued down at a 45 degree slant which started back at the heel. She then explained that after I got used to walking in these shoes I would then progress to a pair with a 60 degree slant. She said that pair would have more padding around the toes since all the weight was being transferred from the ball of the foot to the toes similar to how a ballerina dances on ballet slippers. In addition the shoes tended to cup the heel of my foot to spare the toes from bearing all the weight. I acclimated to my new shoes pretty quickly and 3 months passed before I realized it and we all trooped back to see Elizabeth and try on my new 60 degree shoes. These presented a bit more of a challenge and she had me walk around about 30 minutes before being satisfied with my proficiency. Three months later we were back and now Elizabeth unwrapped shoes slanted at a 75 degree angle. The area of the bottom sole had now shrunk from about 9 square inches down to less than 4 square inches. I had wondered why they were called pony heels when in fact there really was no separate heel because the shoes were wedge heels. The pony aspect actually made more sense now because the sole was now the shape of a pony hoof. The 75 degree angle was now more of a challenge and Elizabeth held me by the hand while I walked around in a circle. Gradually I got the knack of it and was able to let go of Elizabeth's hand. At the salon everyone told me I looked more exotic. Soon the time came for the end goal - shoes with a 90 degree angle. Elizabeth had me point my right stocking foot towards her as she pulled on the long slender black leather shoe. The laces started down at the toes and continued up to the top of my ankle. Elizabeth pulled on the laces as hard as she could as she progressed to the top of the shoe. Then followed the same for my left foot. Next she helped me stand up. The normal L- shape of a foot was now totally gone. I was standing up no different than a ballerina dancing en pointe. Next Elizabeth led me by the hand in circles several times around before letting go. Amazingly I was able to continue walking without falling. Despite the gel pad in the tips, my toes were killing me but I kept quiet and kept walking to everybody's delight. Elizabeth then took my hand again and led me to a floor to ceiling mirror. I could not believe how totally exotic I looked - my legs seemed to go on forever. I now understood what Elizabeth imagined in her mind for me. I absolutely loved what I was looking at in the mirror. Back at the salon even though I had been doing a pretty good job of not complaining about the pain I felt in my toes from walking all day long in my pony heels, Laura had noticed me grimacing several times. She called me into her office. I could not help noticing that a large floor to ceiling mirror had been moved into her office. She had me stand in front of the mirror and asked me if I agreed with her that I looked absolutely gorgeous in my pony heels and that they played a large part of my uniqueness. I sincerely agreed with her. She then asked me if I was willing to make a big sacrifice in order to maintain my super exotic look for the long term. I asked her what that sacrifice might be. She explained that she had noticed my grimace when walking in my pony heels and had discussed it with Dr. Savoy. He said that if I was prepared to make a lifetime commitment to walking in pony heels 24/7 he could perform surgery on my feet that would completely eliminate all pain. When I asked for more details about the surgery, Laura explained that since it was my toes that hurt, Dr. Savoy would in essence be removing my toes - more technically, all the phalanges of my toes. I would be left with only my metatarsal bones to walk on - he even suggested removing my little toe metatarsal to make my foot narrower and thus more aesthetic. This way Laura explained, Elizabeth could make me a pair of pony heels perfectly cushioned to support the now stronger bones of my foot. It would be a bit like walking on stilts but she said I had already demonstrated I could do that but only now it would be easier and there would be no more pain. As gruesome as it all sounded I was actually excited about the idea and readily agreed with Laura to do it. She was delighted and got up from her chair and gave me a big kiss and hug. She then called in the other two girls who had been waiting just outside Laura's office to see what I would say. They also showered me with hugs and kisses. Laura then went on to tell me what else she wanted. She explained that Dr. Savoy had pointed out that while I was already under anesthetic, this would be a perfect time to take my breast implants to the next larger size. In addition we had been jokingly talking about how unattractive my droopy penis looked and that Dr. Savoy had an idea for how to fix that. Since Laura and the girls never had any desire for me to have a physical sex change, Dr. Savoy was going to simply remove my penis but retain the head and sew it back on to allow me to urinate as always. However, it would be necessary to hold tissue over my pee pee hole while sitting on the toilet seat to divert the pee down. So again everything was already setup for the next day and the last thing I remember was counting backwards from 100. When I woke up in my bed at Dr. Savoy's private clinic the girls were all sitting around the room waiting for my awakening. Again I was showered with kisses which turned out to be more like quick pecks because they had to be careful not to put any pressure on my new breasts. I could feel no pain because I was well medicated. It was at this time that I notice that the bandages of my breast area were quite a bundle. I asked Laura what size they were and she told me that Dr. Savoy was quite surprised as to how good my muscle tone was and felt that I could accept Triple-D implants. I was stunned and the girls all immediately assured me that I would look beautiful and would eventually get used to such large breasts. They assured me that together with my big platinum-blonde hairstyle my large breasts would make my total image absolutely awesome. Next we talked about my groin area. Laura explained that Dr. Savoy had not only shortened my penis but that he also had removed my empty scrotum. I would now have a nice smooth groin with just a little pee pee head sticking out about ? of an inch. For now I could see a catheter trailing out from the side of the bed. We then talked about my feet. Laura explained that Dr. Savoy was very happy with the result and felt that the new "configuration" would give us exactly what we wanted. She told me that the doctor had taken the skin from the bottoms of all my toes and in essence made a patchwork quilt to cover the end of each new foot. I would need to use a wheelchair for 8 weeks and in 4 weeks Elizabeth would make a casting mold for each foot to start making my new pony heels. She explained that Elizabeth would be making them longer than before not only to make up for the missing length of my toes but to also add about 2 inches to my overall height. She said that because my feet would now be stronger I would more easily handle the additional height which would again make me look all the more exotic. Dr. Savoy would be providing me a padded step for doing toe rises - what a misnomer since I no longer had toes. He wanted me to do 2000 repetitions every day to keep my calve muscles well developed. This was necessary because my new way of walking would not sufficiently exercise the calves to keep them prominent. Laura forbid me from seeing my feet until after I had walked in my new shoes for 3 months. A curtain was put up each time the nurse changed my bandages for my feet. In 10 days my breast bandages came off. My breasts were huge. Laura said my new dress was already being made to accommodate the larger size and that it would reveal quite a bit of cleavage in the middle. In the meantime I was required to wear a very ruggedized bra to keep my breasts from bouncing around while the muscle tissue surrounding the implants healed completely. There was one more modification that Dr. Savoy had made to my breasts which Laura had waited to explain. My nipples were now huge with big dark brown areolas. They were transplants harvested from some unfortunate accident victim. The doctor would be monitoring me closely to make sure my immune system accepted the new tissue. Laura explained that transplants were necessary to have nipples that were in proportion to my new large breasts. They in fact looked beautiful. My sentence to the wheelchair was finally over and again we all went to visit Elizabeth at her salon. My new shoes were exquisite and I quickly was able to master walking on them. I looked absolutely exotic. Soon Laura and the girls hit me with a new surprise: The proposed to me! They said they loved me immensely and wanted me to be their wife. In addition, they reveled that Sammy was also in love with me and that he also wanted to marry me together with the girls. I gladly accepted all four proposals. For my wedding ceremony I was to wear a white brocade dress that was strapless and tightly hugged my hips and legs all the way down to the floor. It was in effect a hobble dress. Elizabeth had made me a special pair of pony shoes covered with the same white brocade material of my dress. Laura anticipated I would have trouble walking without falling down so she assigned two of my bridesmaids to each hold me by the elbow at all times. Sammy had done my hair in the same style as always but now the color was changed to jet black. As I was escorted up the aisle I was shocked to notice that Laura and the two girls all had shaved their heads. They were all dressed in black tight fitting tuxedos together with patent leather black pumps with 4-inch heels. In the course of the ceremony it was explained that they had shaved their heads as a symbol of their wedding commitment to me. And that Sammy would henceforth wear his long hair rolled up on curlers all day long, everyday. My symbol of commitment was now announced. Each of my 16 bridesmaids each carried a jewel box which contained a gold spherical earring with a screw type holder just like my big earrings. They led me to a specially made chair except there was no seat. I was to stand in front of it and slightly lean back. It had two arm rests of a perfect length that permitted my hands to continue to point down from the wrists. Greta approached my perch and stood on a raised platform at my side at a height which gave her comfortable access to my left ear. With a red felt tip pen she marked several spots along the rim of my ear all the way to the top. She then cocked her piercing gun and made a hole in my ear about a ? inch above my existing earring. One of the bridesmaids then approached me, bowed her head, opened her jewel box, and held it open. Greta then removed the gold globe from the box and inserted it into my new piercing. It then dawned on me that 16 bridesmaids meant 16 new piercings. And sure enough Greta continued piercing and my bridesmaids one by one brought forth more jewel boxes. By the time Greta finished, the last piercing on each ear was located at the very top of my cartilage. The pain was horrendous but it had been made clear that the quality of my commitment to the girls was in proportion to how well I endured the pain. Tears were permitted and Rita was in charge of dabbing my eyes dry to avoid messing up my makeup. A mirror was brought up so I could see my new adornments. It looked magnificent. My bimbo image was now at an extreme level but I loved it.