Stacy's New Hobby free porn video

"Ouch, Chris, that hurt. You're hands are as rough as sandpaper. If you're going to play with my titties, you're going to have to do something about those hands." My wife, Stacy, was obviously upset with me. Not a good way to start a lovemaking session. "I'm sorry, honey. I know that my hands are in tough shape, but I just can't resist your beautiful breasts." I was trying to warm her back up but knew exactly why she was upset with my touch. As a present for her 27th birthday I painted her antique Lincoln, but all of the chemicals and bodywork left my hands like the sandpaper that they handled for weeks. "Well, until we can do something to soften those things up, you're not touching any part of me. Now roll over and go to sleep." While my rough skin and disheveled hands were the breaking point for Stacy, there was more to her cool attitude. The paint job was for her, but it was an all consuming job for me for a couple of months. Her argument was that she loved the car, but would have rather spent the time with me. It was a point well taken. While I did enjoy working on the car, I essentially ignored her for the bulk of the project. The next day Stacy was back to her usual wonderful self, and running around the house on an obvious mission. "Eureka, I've found it!" "Found what, Stacy?" "I've found the answer to your horrible hands. I found my hot wax bath. We'll crank it up, and then you can use it on your hands." "Are you sure that it's really necessary?" I asked the question, and then instantly thought better of it. My libido reminded me that just 10 hours earlier I would have stuck my hands in a pot of boiling water to get closer to Stacy. "Yes it's necessary." "Point taken. Sorry. Whatever you want me to do." It was a quick recovery. At that point I had decided that whatever she wanted me to do I would do it. That would be the small head thinking for the big head. "You're going to love it. The hot wax feels wonderful on your hands, and leaves your skin feeling dreamy once it's cooled and you peel it off. Of course in your case, it may take a few applications." Once the hand or foot sized bath was warmed up, Stacy sat me down in front of it and instructed me on what to do. "It couldn't be easier, just dip your hands in, and then pull them out. The wax cools quick enough on your skin that it leaves a thick coating on your hands." She was right, and it was pretty cool. The geek in me enjoyed it. I'm a lab technician for a computer chip manufacturer and enjoy high tech. Okay, a wax bath isn't exactly high tech, but it does have a certain science element to it. Besides, it also made Stacy happy that I was enjoying the process. I stared at my hands for a couple of minutes and pretended that I was some sort of reject from a wax museum. "Okay, that's enough of that, Chris. Now peel the wax off of your hands and drop it back in the bath." I did as instructed, and decided that peeling the wax off and then watching it dissolve back into the bath was equally entertaining. "Well, how do they feel? Actually, I'll be the judge." She grabbed my hands and analyzed their touch. They did feel better, but it was obvious that she still wasn't going to let me near her breasts for a while. "Your nails are in horrible shape too. Sit down at my makeup table and I'll give you a manicure." Stacy has beautiful nails. Other women often comment on them. Most are surprised to learn that Stacy doesn't typically go to a nail salon. She mostly takes care of them herself. Her nails are long (nearly ? inch beyond her finger tips), are perfectly painted, and have that glossy wet look to them. She loves color, so they're usually painted with a bright polish. I was about to ask if a manicure was necessary when my little head reminded my big head that we're going to do anything that she asks us to do. "If you don't mind, a manicure sounds like a great idea. Thank you." A pair of nail clippers or even a pair of kitchen scissors was all I typically used to take care of my nails, so a manicure was not something that I felt was necessary, but I have to admit that I enjoyed it. Having my hands in hers felt wonderful. She gave each one of my nails loving attention. We talked with each other and laughed at life events that we didn't get to share for the last couple of months. I actually lost track of time. My body was relaxed. My mind was occupied with my wife, and my hands felt better than they had for as long as I could remember. "Okay, they're back to somewhat of a decent shape. I did the best that I could, but they're still pretty beat up. Sit still for another couple of minutes and I'll put a coat of nail hardener on for you." My big head overruled my little head, and I asked, "Is that really necessary? I don't want any polish on my nails." She chuckled, and responded, "Yes, it's necessary. They're in tough shape. Don't you want them to look nice? Besides, you won't even see it. The hardener is clear, and doesn't even have much gloss to it." "Okay, if you say so." Turns out she was mostly right. I could tell that something was on my nails, but it didn't really look like polish. No one would be the wiser. "I've enjoyed this morning's activities, Chris. It's been fun catching up. I told you that you spent too much time in the garage." The garage comment stung a little bit, but I knew that she was right. I've always been somewhat obsessive with my endeavors. I had spent too much time in the garage. I let the comment go with a smile. She finished her thought with, "We're going to have to make this a regular date for a while, at least until we've whipped those hands and nails of yours into shape." "That suits me fine. I never would have thought that I'd be saying this, but I really enjoyed the wax bath and the manicure. It's left me feeling relaxed, and spending the time with you has been the best part." I knew that I had made some serious points with that statement, but it was the truth. "Awwww, that was nice. Thank you." Yup, serious points. "You don't have one of those baths big enough for my whole body, do you? My skin has been drier than ever this fall." I enjoy making Stacy laugh. Her smile lights up the room, and her laugh puts a smile on my face every time. She didn't disappoint. She gave a good chuckle, and then responded, "No, I don't have a wax bath that big, but we'll get you some lotion to use on your body." In addition to taking care of her nails, Stacy takes impeccable care of the rest of herself. She's into exercise, eating right, and general body care. Thanks to her we've always been able to stay slim and in good health. "We'll get you in great shape. In the mean time, your hair's looking a bit straggly these days and I figured that next weekend I would give you a bit of a trim." My hair was getting a bit long. I've always liked it on the long side, and where I work they don't care about the length of your hair. The lab that I work in is actually part of a clean room for making next generation computer chips. Everyone in the clean room has to wear a bunny suit. Stacy calls it my white ninja suit. It's a pair of white coveralls that covers my entire body and clothes. Even my head is covered by a hood. When I started there I had a moustache, and had to wear a face mask. That really made it look like a ninja suit. Without a beard or moustache a face mask isn't required, but safety glasses and gloves are mandatory. Sometimes it's tough to tell who you are talking to. Anyway, since my head is covered by a hood all day I don't worry about what my hair looks like. A week passed and I was actually looking forward to another manicure from Stacy. We had such a good time together the Saturday before I was really eager to relax and share the events of our week. I wasn't disappointed. We talked the whole morning away. The wax bath took me another step closer to having soft hands, and the manicure left me with short, but nicely sculpted nails. As a bit of a surprise, Stacy had me brush her hair before she cut mine. She has beautiful, long blond hair. It has just enough wave in it to give it body, and it shines in the sunlight like a piece of silk. Her hair has always been a turn on for me, so I jumped at the chance to brush it for her. When Stacy was completely relaxed she said, "Okay, that's enough brushing. Now it's your turn. First I'm going to wash your hair, and then we'll do some styling." "Styling? You don't have to get fancy. Just cut it off across the bottom so that it's off of my shoulders." Stacy gave me a concerned look as if to say that a cut across the bottom will simply not do. Stacy has always had me right where she wanted me, so I knew right away that I was in for a styling session. "Chris, I let you play with my hair while you brushed it. Now it's my turn to have some fun. Don't worry. You'll like it." She draped a towel around my neck, relaxed my shoulders, and began to wash my hair. She was certainly off to a good start. The warm water running over my head, the smell of the shampoo and conditioner, and my wife's fingers massaging my scalp all but put me in a trance. I liked the style already and she hadn't put a scissor to my hair. When she got down to the task of actually cutting my hair, she was all business. She was biting her lower lip, measuring her progress by standing back and surveying, and pushing her beautiful breasts into my face as she tried to get a bird's eye view of the top of my head. I loved every minute of it. I didn't care what I was going to look like. Finally, she broke out a blow dryer and started to dry my mane. First thought that went through my head was that she had been at this a while, but it still felt like my hair was quite long. There was no question that there was hair on the floor, but she didn't remove much if any length. When she started to use a round brush in conjunction with the dryer I started to wonder what I was actually going to look like. This wasn't business as usual. She finally finished, took a couple of steps back to survey her work one last time and then ended up with a really big smile on her face. Her smile lit up the room like it can, and I knew without a mirror in my hand that I was going to tell her that I loved what she had done. Stacy handed me a mirror and I had my first chance to see the new me, or at least my new hair. I was really surprised by what I saw. My hair was nearly the same length that it was before she started, but rather than being pulled back behind my ears, I now had soft feathered layers framing my face. My hair came down to just below my shoulders, and I had to flip my head from side to side in order to make the hair move enough to see my ears. In the back the feathers came together, and there were soft curls at the ends. There was no question that it was a feminine cut, but for some reason I really liked it. I think that it was because I never ever thought that my hair could look that good. "Well, just don't sit there with your mouth open. Tell me, do you like it?" I dropped the mirror and saw Stacy leaning forward. It was as though she was trying to pull the words from my mouth. "I absolutely love it." I know. I said that I was going to say that, but I really did love it. Sure it was impractical. Sure the guys were going to give me a hard time about it at work, but the chances of my being able to have it look like this again after a morning shower was zero. Besides, once it was tucked into my hood, no one would even know what it looked like. Well you'd think that Stacy had just won the lottery. She screeched, jumped in the air, and landed in my lap with her legs wrapped around me. As she landed she put me in a big embrace and kissed me with more than a bit of passion. It made me feel wonderful, and if there was any concern at all with the femininity of the cut it was erased with her warm embrace. It seemed that Stacy had found a new hobby, and that hobby was me. That afternoon we made love, and it was spectacular. With my now smooth and soft hands I explored every inch of her body. I couldn't get enough of it. I spent so much time devoting myself to all of her different curves that when we finally made love she was consumed with pleasure. In the mean time I was having fun feeling my soft hair brush across my back and face. I'd look towards the sky and my hair would dust across my back and send shivers down my spine. She could see that I was enjoying it, and that gave her even more pleasure. We ended in a long warm embrace. A few weeks passed and we couldn't have had any more fun. We talked and laughed, and enjoyed each other's company. I continued with the wax bath, and my hands became as soft as a small child's. I also started putting my feet in the bath, so my feet were getting a bit softer as well. She gave me pedicures claiming that my toe nails were scratching her in bed. Since no one but Stacy would see my feet, she painted my toes with glossy clear finish. She continued to take care of my fingernails too, but rather than keeping them to a short length they began to grow and I was concerned that they might be getting a bit long. "Stacy, can you cut my nails a bit shorter this time? When using the computer, instead of hearing tick, tick, tick from the keys I hear click, click, click from my nails hitting the keys. It's not as easy to type as it used to be. I'm also concerned with what others may think." "Ohhh, is my Chrissie concerned with her typing skills? Most of the girls in my office have nails a lot longer than yours and can type 60 words per minute without any issues. I'd say that you just have to get used to them. You'll figure it out." Well that stung a bit. She had never called me Chrissie before, and the use of "her" was not missed by me. She compared me to the secretaries in her office where she is an attorney, and she basically said that my opinion didn't matter, "I just have to get used to them." "Wow Stacy, where did that come from? You know that I've enjoyed our time together, and I'll admit that I've been enjoying our little experiments, but I'm concerned with what people are going to think when I'm in public." "I'm sorry, Chris. You've been great. You know that I've been enjoying this at least as much as you. That's why I'm asking you to just bear with me a bit. I think that you'll enjoy your nails if they're just a little bit longer. In fact, let me show you how good they already look." With that she grabbed a bottle of pink nail polish, a color that I'd seen on her nails, and started painting my nails. Despite my attempts at a protest, she put on a couple of coats and made my nails glisten like hers. That woman is good. Somehow she knew that I'd see those nails shining like they did, and that I would enjoy seeing my hands take on a feminine look. I moved my hands from side to side, and made exaggerated movements like a hand model. My fingers looked long and slender, and overall my hands looked great. In the back of my mind I fantasized what I would look like with nails that stuck out as far beyond my fingertips as Stacy's. As I snapped back to reality I wanted to tell her no, but I looked up and there was Stacy with that wonderful smile of hers leaning forward like she did when she asked me about my hair, hoping to form the words for me. I didn't give her an energetic answer, but I did admit to her that I loved what I saw. "Yippee! I knew that you'd like it. Before you go back to work on Monday I'll take off the pink polish, and put on some clear. You'll see. It'll be great. And don't worry, we'll decide together what is the right length for them." Again she said a mouthful. I would have pink nails until Monday. When I head of to work I'd have clear on my fingernails rather than just the hardener, and "we" would decide how long the nails will be. Stacy doesn't try to be alpha dog at home often, but I know that when she says "we" it means that SHE is going to decide. The rest of the weekend was uneventful. I practiced typing and frequently caught myself staring at my pretty pink nails. It was during one of my mock hand modeling sessions that I decided that I could deal with my growing nails. As for what they would say at work, the nails really weren't that long. As long as the clear polish wasn't too obvious there was no real problem. Monday morning I headed off to work with my pink nails being nothing more than a memory. The polish was removed and replaced with clear finish. Of course, as I suspected Stacy used the high gloss polish and made sure that it was truly high gloss. I found myself watching my hands as I drove. I watched how I gripped the steering wheel, and how the nails looked as I moved. It was a turn on. Within a few days the clear polish on my nails seemed normal and I didn't think about it beyond how nice it made my nails look. As with my hair I was pleased with what I saw so there just didn't seem to be any sense in worrying about it. As the weeks passed Stacy and I continued to enjoy our time together. Our hair and nail sessions were the best part of our week. While I was having a great time as she continued to "work" on me, not all of the attention was directed at me. Stacy had me use a curling iron on her hair which was great fun. I was amazed at how quickly you could change someone's look just by putting a little heat to their hair. It was much quicker than body work on a car. With a car, you bang and sand and bondo, and finally you might get a different look. With Stacy's hair all it took was a little heat, a little twisting, and voila, a totally different look. Stacy showed me how to give her several different styles, and I eventually conceded that it might be fun to try some of the different looks on my hair. There I sat in front of the mirror curling my hair. I never thought that I would do it, and I never in a million years thought that I would enjoy it, but my primping was becoming my hobby too. I refused to go out in public after our sessions, but there wasn't a mirror in the house that I didn't look in ten times a day after a styling. As for my nails, each weekend she stripped off the clear finish, touched up the shape of my nails, and then reapplied a more colorful finish. At the end of the weekend she'd ask me if I'd like to keep the colored polish, but each time I opted for the clear finish. While I chose to stay with the clear, the colored polish was starting to feel natural to me. I'm also not sure how she did it, but that clear finish looked like it was about one inch deep and shined like a piece of polished glass. Change is an interesting thing. If it happens slow enough it is often overlooked. Supposedly a frog put in a pot of cool water on the stove is happy to stay there as long as the temperature rises slowly. It'll stay there right up until it is cooked. Changes to our bodies are not that different. Hair and nails grow slow enough that day to day you don't notice a difference. Yet after a month or two the change is quite evident to those around you. In the several weeks that Stacy and I played with my appearance my hair had grown over an inch, and yet it was imperceptible to me. All I knew was that it reached a little farther when I tilted my head and "feather dusted" my back. It was the same with my nails in that I didn't see the changes that were occurring. My nails were now long enough that they had a true feminine appearance. To me it all seemed quite natural and normal. There's another interesting thing about change. If it occurs quickly, as long as we have time to get used to it, our mind accepts it as the norm. If you get a new pair of glasses, the first few times you look in the mirror you instantly notice the difference. After a week, it's as though the glasses were there the whole time. I suspect that my growing acceptance of Stacy's colored nail polish was due to my seeing it on my fingers on a regular basis. Stacy was smart. She kept my hair and nails long so that I could get used to the look all the while changing the style of my hair or color of my nails on a regular basis. I was becoming conditioned to my new look and conditioned to embracing changes in my appearance? and I liked it. "Chris, your hands feel wonderful, but your body still feels a little bit dry. Have you been using your lotion?" "I have, but not very regularly. I've never been one much for lotion. It feels funny as my body rubs against my clothes, and it makes my body hair stick to my skin." Stacy's an attorney, not a used car salesman, but judging from her body language and nervous excitement I had just fed her the perfect opening. "Well I can fix both of those issues." With that she dashed out of the room and came back with what looked to be a bottle hidden behind her back. "Now what have I gotten myself into?" "No negativity. You're going to love it. I promise. First we'll address the lotion making your body hair stick to your skin." With that she revealed the bottle to be Nair hair remover and displayed it to me like it was the miracle drug of the ages. "We'll just get rid of the nasty body hair!" I gave a nervous laugh and then a plea for reconsideration. "I don't know, Stacy. That's a pretty big change. I'm not sure that I'm ready for that just yet." Apparently I had just given my wife, the attorney, an even bigger opening. "'Just yet' means that you are considering it. I love you." With that she threw her arms around me and kissed me. All the while she was running her fingers through my hair, grinding into me, and doing her best to make me feel absolutely wonderful. Before she released me, she looked into me in the eyes and said in a sultry voice, "How about now? Are you ready now?" I couldn't help myself. She has an amazing power over me. "Yes, I'm ready." I could feel myself get hard as I answered the question. I knew that my answer would get a more than positive response from Stacy, and I knew deep down that I might enjoy the feeling of my body with no hair on it. Before I could catch my breath Stacy was stripping my clothes off, and starting to apply the Nair. When she was done, I was covered from nearly neck to toe. She had tied the hair on my head up and out of the way, and she had left a small landing strip above my manhood. That was it. The rest of me was destined to be hairless. There's a waiting time involved with Nair, so while I was waiting for the instruction to go wash Stacy was telling me what she was going to do to me when I was the new smooth Chris. I was definitely getting excited. "Okay, that's about the right amount of time. Go get in the shower and wash off." I'm not the hairiest person around, so it didn't take long to remove what was left on my body. Even before getting out of the shower I noticed that I was powerfully smooth. The Nair left my skin feeling a bit tingly, but all in all I was really enjoying myself. When I got out of the shower Stacy handed me a big fluffy towel and told me to pat myself dry. She was doing her best not to further irritate my skin after having used the hair remover. Then she told me to stand still as she applied a new lotion that I had never used before. It smelled wonderful, and made my skin glisten. The look, the rubbing, and the excitement in the air all had me completely aroused. I thought that I was going to explode. Stacy pulled off what was left of her clothes, and rubbed her body against mine. It was the most sensual feeling that I had ever experienced. She then slid herself down my body and wrapped her lips around my penis. As her hands massaged my smooth body, her lips massaged my cock. I was in such a state of euphoria that I don't even know how long I lasted, but I'm sure that it wasn't long. I cummed, and my body shook. Stacy swallowed my juices, and then slid back up my body. She gave me a big passionate kiss and slid her tongue into my mouth. I could taste what was left of my cum on her tongue. It just added to the sexual sensory overload. As I started to recover, Stacy bounced back to her bubbly self and said, "Now we'll fix how your lotioned skin feels against your clothes. We'll just get rid of your nasty old clothes!" I thought that she wanted me to walk around naked, but it wasn't the case. Before I could blink she took off into the other room and raced back with two pieces of women's lingerie. She had a pink set of panties with lace around the openings, and a matching pink camisole. "Women's underwear?! Next thing you know you'll have me dressed completely in women's clothes." "Actually, I can't wait to see you in my pink and red sun dress." "Stacy!" "Come on Chris. You've loved every minute of every step of this journey. Admit it. You're enjoying this. Yes or no?" The counselor was demanding an answer. "Yes, I've been enjoying it." It was an easy answer. I'd spent more quality time with my wife in the last couple of months than I had for the first years of our marriage. I was invited to play with my wife's beautiful hair. I had my wife's breasts thrust in my face every time she touched my hair. I had my hands taken care of and made to look really sexy. Oh, and I was able to explore a side of me that I didn't know existed. It was an easy answer. I really was enjoying all that had happened. Stacy had her next question ready to go, "Okay, you've enjoyed it. Now admit that you're looking forward to whatever steps are next in this journey of feminization." I didn't wait to give her an answer because I was afraid that any delay would allow me to think twice, and I didn't want to do that. "Yes, I look forward to every step." It was the most liberating answer I had ever given. There was a wave of warmth and excitement that consumed me as I answered her. It was a release, and it was nearly as strong of a feeling as the sexual release that I experienced just a short time ago. Stacy was 100% right. While I was nervous as to what others might think, I was enjoying the changes that were occurring. I was scared to know where this was all going, but I was also looking forward to the journey. "I knew it! Oh Chris, you've made me so happy." It just added to the moment to know that we were both happy with what was occurring. Stacy kissed me again, and then helped me put on the panties. As the panties slid up my smooth legs they felt absolutely wonderful. All I could think of was that this day was one erotic and sensual feeling after another. With the panties on, Stacy had me put my hands over may head, and she lowered the camisole into place. It felt equally wonderful. "I think that my Chrissie likes what she feels. She's cooing." "It feels incredible. It's so smooth, and it feels cool to the touch. Yet, it also warms me as it rubs up against my body." I hadn't missed the "Chrissie" and "she" comments, but I was so overcome that I let them go right by. Besides, they kind of felt nice this time. "You're going to love women's undergarments. You love cuddling with me when I have them on. Now you'll be able to have that feeling all day long every day." With that she rubbed up against me, and the sensation was a familiar one. It felt like when I rub up against her when she is wearing lingerie, but when she pulled away a portion of the sensation remained. It was a very good feeling. I regained my composure, and rewound her last comment. "I can't wear these under my clothes every day." "Why not?" She had a point. The bunny suits cover my regular clothes at work, so any possible chance of seeing a strap or outline would be completely covered. Then there was the undeniable fact that I was actually enjoying all of this. Hey, if it feels good, do it. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to wear something soft under my clothes on Monday." "That's the spirit! Let me go get that sundress." With that she was gone, and I was left standing there with my mouth wide open wondering what had just happened. When Stacy returned she held in her arms a pink and red pattern sundress with a scoop neck and pleats. When she shifted the dress in her hands I saw that she also had a pair of red T-strap sandals with a three inch heel. I was certain that her feet were a different size from mine, so the shoes were a giveaway that Stacy had been planning this. She had to have bought the shoes ahead of time. Her big smile seemed to be permanently planted on her face, and while I was interested in what she was holding, I was also nervous. Stacy sized up the situation, "You're 5'8", and I'm 5'6". You're a bit bigger in the shoulders than I am, but otherwise not much bigger than me. How much do you weigh, Chris?" I already mentioned that I'm not very large. Truth be told, I'm pretty small. Since I was enjoying all of the attention from my wife I didn't want to mention it to her, but since we started playing with my hair and nails I'd actually been mistaken for a woman twice. Once was in a convenience store, and once at an auto parts store. That one made me stop and think. I was at an auto parts store for goodness sake. How many women shop at an auto parts store? How could I be mistaken for a woman there? How feminine do I look? My mind drifted back to the matter at hand, and I answered her question, "I weigh 140 pounds." I didn't mumble it, but I did sheepishly look down and shuffle my feet a bit. I was concerned that Stacy would think less of me for being such a lightweight. "That's great!" Apparently she wasn't upset with me being a lightweight. "I think that you'll fit in this dress. It's big on me, but I'll bet that it'll be perfect on you. We'll have to get you some more clothes of your own, but this will be great for now." I was trying to digest all of her words, but was barely able to keep up. Her excitement kept her talking at a feverish pace. "You know, I've been trying to lose a little bit of weight myself. If we eat a few more salads, and a few less pasta dinners, I'll bet that we could both lose 10 or 15 pounds in no time. Then you could fit in all of my clothes, and I could get a whole new wardrobe for myself. Would you like that?" When Stacy finally came up for air, the perma-smile was back, and she was again leaning forward hoping to draw the answer from me. As near as I could tell, there was only one answer. I wanted Stacy to be happy. She was already incredibly beautiful, so to me there was no need for her to lose weight. If she wanted a new wardrobe she didn't need to ask me. She has always made more money than me, and can do what she pleases. As for her current wardrobe becoming mine, I was still getting used to the panties and camisole. I blinked, decided not to think about it anymore, and answered, "Yes." "You're the best husband ever. Now put on this dress so that I can see what you look like." With that she took the dress and just about threw me into it. I remember at one point picking up a foot so I must have stepped into the dress, but beyond that I have no idea how I ended up dressed. Before I could figure out what was going on, Stacy was zipping up the dress from the back. "Now put the shoes on, but be careful, and don't find a mirror yet. I want to get your hair just right, and maybe put a bit of make up on you." "Whoa, Stacy. Isn't this happening a bit fast?" I don't think that I was confrontational, but there was no question that I was a bit stern with my voice. Her smile was gone, and was replaced with a pout. "I thought that we were having fun?" I felt awful. We were having fun, and I was just trying to slow things down a bit. I suddenly realized that I was subconsciously swinging my arms while holding the bottom of the dress to see what it felt like to have the fabric brush my legs. It was all just so new to me. I certainly wasn't the frog sitting in a pot of water on the stove enjoying the warming water. I was about to be the guy looking in the mirror at a new pair of glasses, and these glasses were pink with sequins on them. "We're having fun, Stacy. I'm just a bit nervous. That's all." With that the counselor regained control, and slowed down. She hugged me, thanked me for indulging her fantasies, and then helped with the shoes. As I guessed, they fit perfectly. They had to have been bought ahead of time. When I was pronounced dressed, she led me over to her makeup table. While the shoes felt foreign to me, I really didn't find them that hard to maneuver in. I sat down at the makeup table and allowed her to style my hair. The curling iron was working overtime, so I knew that it was one of the more feminine styles that we had experimented with. When she was done with my hair, she took out her makeup kit. We were back in a mode of talking and sharing our lives, so I let her do whatever she wanted. She explained the process as she went through it. She put on foundation, and then some blush. Then she turned her attention to my eyes. She used colors that she said were more for the daytime. Stacy mumbled that my eyebrows were a bit bushy, but that they would be alright. I was instructed to look up, look down, and close my eyes. I couldn't see what exactly she was doing, but having her so close to me, and concentrating so intently on my face was very exciting. She curled my eyelashes, and then put mascara and eyeliner on them. She finished by making over my lips. She said that they weren't very large, but that she could make them appear quite large. She painted my lips with what she said was a very glossy lipstick and created the shape that she wanted. I'd tasted Stacy's lipstick by kissing her when she had it on her own lips, but running my tongue over my freshly painted lips was electrifying. They felt almost waxy, but slippery at the same time. The taste was unmistakable, and as I inhaled I could smell the mix of powders and lipsticks used to make up my face. I could hardly wait to see myself in the mirror. Stacy stepped back from her work and asked me to stand. "Oh Chrissie, you look amazing." I wasn't sure, but I think that she had a tear forming in her eye. She asked me to close my eyes, and then led me to the full length mirror on the back of our bedroom door. "Okay, you can open your eyes." I opened my eyes and immediately felt disoriented. It was as though I wasn't looking into a mirror at all. I felt as though Stacy had left the door open and I was looking through the doorway at a woman. The woman looked very familiar, but was certainly not someone that I had ever met before. I smiled, partially because I found her attractive, and partially because it was the friendly thing to do. She smiled back, and it struck me that this woman was not only quite attractive but also very happy and content. I raised my hand for I don't know what reason, and recognized that the woman that stood before me mimicked my motion. It was at that moment that I realized that I was in fact looking in the mirror and that it was my own reflection that I was staring at. The look on my face turned to one of shock, and then disbelief. Stacy had done wonders with makeup, but I really looked very good from head to toe. The dress really accentuated my hips, but my chest was still perfectly flat. Aside from that, I was completely feminine. I put my hands up to cover my face, and my pretty pink fingernails (the color of the week) only added to the look. "So you like what you see?... Chrissie, do you like what you see?" I'm sure that she said other things, but those were the first words that I heard. "Uhh, I'm speechless. How did you do it?" "I did very little. You did it all. You grew your hair. You made your body look so good. All I did was help with your makeup and the dress. So, do you like it?" "I think that I look great! I love it." "I knew that you'd like it. I knew it. Oh Chris, you've made me so happy. And I really do think that you look amazing." "Heck, if I weren't married to the best woman in the world, I'd date me! Of course I'd force me to get a boob job, but otherwise I wouldn't change a thing. "Whoa killer. Now who's going too fast? A boob job is a big step, Chrissie. All in due time." "I was kidding, Stacy." While I really was kidding, there was no denying that with the right mounds I could be very confident in my looks. "I knew that you were kidding, but it never hurts to have goals and aspirations. Now let me rip those clothes back off of you. I have a goal of my own." "Not yet, Stacy. I want to stand here and stare for a little while longer." Even while I talked to Stacy, I never took my eye off of my reflection. I wiggled my hips. I spun around? and nearly fell. Okay, the shoes will take some practice. I did whatever I could to convince myself that it really was me that I was looking at. There was also the fun of playing with the dress, my hair, and making my face look oh so sexy with different expressions. "Drink it in, Chris. You have all weekend to enjoy your new found self." I don't know how many times that Stacy and I made love that weekend, but it was a lot. I took her from behind with the dress still on. I had her sit on top of me and take me from the top so that she could be in control and I could feel a bit submissive. It was all just wonderful. One of our favorite things was kissing with both of us having lipstick on. That turned Stacy on as much as it did me. When I returned to work that week I had lacy panties and a camisole under my clothes. I even let Stacy put a light pink polish on my fingernails rather than clear so that I could feel just a bit more feminine. There was no question that someone could see the pink in the polish, but I figured that I would just go to work a bit early, get suited up on my own, and then no one would be the wiser. That night on my way home I rolled the window down, turned up the stereo, and drove around for a while before heading home. My hair was blowing in the wind, and I stared at my pretty pink fingernails as they gripped the steering wheel. I fantasized about being completely dressed as a woman and driving around, enjoying all of the sensations of being a woman. I wondered what it would be like to operate the brake and the gas with high heels. I imagined earrings hanging from ears being lightly buffeted in the wind and gently pulling my earlobes as if to remind me that they were there. When I found my way home Stacy was already there. I gave her a big kiss, and she could see on my face that I was having a good day. "That was nice. You must be having a good day. I'm going to make it even better. I bought you some presents." "Wow, thanks Stacy. What's the occasion?" "Consider it thanks for a great weekend. I know that you enjoyed it also, but you really made me happy this weekend." With that she walked to the living room and came back with a big shopping bag full of boxes. "How exciting. What did you get me?" "Take a look for yourself." She didn't need to ask twice. I tore into the first box like an eight year old on Christmas morning. In the first box was a beautiful camisole. It was a slightly different shade of pink than Stacy's, and it had a bit of lace around the edges. There were five more boxes around the same size that ended up being variations on the theme. "I wanted to make sure that you had enough to last you a week so that you wouldn't be doing laundry every day." Apparently Stacy was serious about me wearing women's undergarments every day. By that point I was totally bought in, so it was good that we were in agreement. There also ended up being multiple boxes of panties. Stacy had bought all sorts of different shapes and colors. This truly was like Christmas. Just when I thought that I had a handle on the variety, I opened a different shape box. Inside was a white bra. "It's very pretty Stacy, but I don't have anything to put inside of it." In the back of my head I also wondered when I would ever wear it, but figured there would be those times when we are playing at home? "There's one more box, Chrissie. Keep going, you're almost there." At the bottom of the bag was one more box about the same size as the bra box, but deeper. When I opened it, there were two breasts staring back at me. I immediately realized what was going to go inside the bra. "Holy cow, there are titties in this box!" "Those aren't just garden variety titties. They're designed for women that have had a mastectomy. They're about as realistic as they come. They'll warm to your body, and the women at the prosthesis store said that several customers have sworn that they can feel it when someone touches the breast." That sounded like wishful thinking to me, but I sure did like the way that they jiggled when I moved the box. Funny thing about eight year olds, if you give them a bunch of presents it's almost like they get a sugar high, and then go catatonic. I wasn't at the catatonic state, but I sure was on overload. I just sat there for a few minutes staring at all of my new things wondering what I should do first. Stacy solved the problem for me. "Just don't stand there. Take off your clothes. Let's try some of these things on." I peeled off my pants and shirt and was about to pull off my wife's camisole and panties when I noticed a big smile on Stacy's face. I don't think that she had forgotten that I had worn her lingerie, but it still put a smile on her face to see me standing there with painted toenails and fingernails (matching, in the middle of the week!) long hair, and lingerie. I smiled back knowingly, and peeled off the panties. The camisole came off next, and I was now bare naked. Stacy kept me going, "Great, now put these panties back on. They're tanga panties. I liked the cut of these, and I think that you'll like the way that they accentuate your cute little butt." I blushed, but still slid them on as fast as I could. "You look great in those, Chrissie. I also see that you have already figured out how to hide that thing between your legs. Looks like you just tucked it behind you." "Tucking was a bit difficult this time. I seem to be a bit excited." "We'll deal with that in a little while. First, put your bra on. You've seen me do it. Start with the back and clasps in front of you, and then rotate it around to the right spot. Then you can slide your arms through the straps." I did what Stacy told me to, and soon I was standing there with two deflated cups hiding my nipples. I was still soaking it all up, so Stacy was doing most of the talking. "Great, it fits. I was a bit nervous about that. That's why I only bought you one bra. We can get you some more later. Now, slip the breast forms inside the cups." I was way too busy entertaining myself to concern myself with Stacy's comment on buying more bras later. How many bras does one man need? I pulled the bouncing, dancing boobies from the box and slipped them inside the cups of the bra. They were cold at first, but did seem to warm up quite quickly. I immediately wiggled my upper body to see if they would dance on my chest. The bra definitely muted the action, but it was still there! Then instinct had me grab a handful. That wishful thinking worked on me, because it sure seemed like I could feel my hand grab the breast. "These are great, Stacy. I'm so lucky. Thank you so much. Now get out of my way so that I can see myself in the mirror." The smiling woman that I had met the other day while staring in the mirror was back again. She still looked very happy, but this time she had very little clothes on? and she looked great! "You look terrific, Chrissie. Let's try another dress out of my closet." Stacy came back with a floral dress that looked to be quite short. My eyes were as big as saucers as I looked at it. Stacy gave me the low down, "This dress still fits me. It does have a little bit of stretch to it, but I'm still a little concerned that it will be too small for you." I pulled it on, and filled it right out. What a feeling that was. For the first time, I had a CHEST. There was no question that the dress was a bit small for me, but to me it looked great. My new boobies were prominently displayed, and as it was shorter than the dress from the weekend my legs appeared even longer. My excitement got the best of me, "I love it! Can I wear it around the house tonight?" "It's not really an around the house kind of dress, Chris, but I suppose that Chrissie can wear it for the evening. Then that's it, because I don't want it all stretched out." That was all I needed to hear. I was able to wear the dress for the evening, but more importantly I decided that I needed to go on a crash diet. There was a whole closet of clothes that I wanted to play with, and I needed to lose some weight to do it. I was only 140 pounds soaking wet, but ten to fifteen pounds off would make me a lean, mean, sexy machine. Low and behold, I ate light for dinner. Stacy didn't hate the idea. I don't know why she thought that she had to lose weight, but having her in low calorie mode made my task easier. The weeks went by, and I was having a great time. Stacy and I still talked and primped away our weekends, and I was getting closer to my goal weight. After a couple of weeks Stacy decided that she only needed to lose a total of five pounds, so my fifteen pounds (I'm an overachiever, if ten pounds was sufficient, fifteen would be great) became the sole task. In six weeks time I had reached my goal. My weight was down to 125 pounds, my hair was now several inches past my shoulders, and I was probably spending more time in Stacy's cast offs than in my own clothes. Then it happened. It was horrible. The unimaginable had occurred. I couldn't imagine what I was going to do as a result. I had broken a nail. I was getting into my car at the end of a day at work, and the nasty door handle snapped back in just the wrong way, and my nail was broken. It was all over but the crying. I raced home, but Stacy wasn't there yet. I sat at the kitchen table and stared at my fingers. My nails were being kept to one quarter of an inch beyond my fingertips. It was the length that Stacy and I had decided on. They were clearly feminine, but because by that time they seemed natural to me I never gave it a second thought. I loved them, and now I had nine beautiful nails, and one broken jagged mess of a nail. When Stacy came in the door, I started blubbering immediately. When I finished my story I showed her the atrocity that was at one time a beautiful fingernail. "Is there anything that we can do?" Stacy giggled a little, and then tried to set me at ease, "My poor Chrissie. Don't you worry. Everything will be just fine. Today is Thursday. You live with it tomorrow, and then Saturday we'll get it all fixed up." "That's great. So you can fix it?" "Not me, but I'll treat you to a visit to a manicurist. You'll be better than new and I think that you'll really enjoy the experience." "The nail salon, I couldn't. No way. What if we saw someone that I know?" "I'll bring you to my salon across town so that we minimize that risk. The only other choice that you have is to wait for a couple of months for the nail to grow back out." "Two months, I don't want to wait two months." I really had grown to love my long nails, and the thought of having one ugly duckling for two months was unbearable. I thought about it a few moments, and then took the plunge. "Okay, I'll go to the nail salon and have them fix my nail." "That's my girl. Good for you, Chrissie. I'll go with you, and we'll make a day of it. We'll have all sorts of fun. Leave the plans to me." You would think that keeping my hands in gloves all day at work on Friday would have allowed me to forget about the broken nail, but the gloves that we use are white fabric and very light. The glove finger with the hidden broken nail looked positively limp with no nail stretching it out. It was a constant reminder that something was just not right. There was no driving around after work that day. I went straight home and hoped that the evening would pass quickly so that we could get to the nail salon on Saturday. It was an uneventful evening, and as I got ready for bed I put on one of my favorite nighties. Stacy bought it for me a month or so back when I realized how scratchy all of my clothes were. It's a lavender chemise with lace around the neck. The sides are slit to show off my legs. Above all it feels wonderful, and it helped to make me feel better that night. When I woke up in the morning, Stacy was already putting her plans in motion. When she saw me stir, she welcomed me to the day, "Good morning sleepy head. Are ready to have some fun today? Your first task is to go in and make yourself as smooth as possible. Your Nair is on the counter and your razor is next to it. Remember, smooooth." "I don't think that the nail salon will care if my legs are perfectly smooth." "We're not going to the nail salon. We're going to my hair salon. They have a great manicurist, and they're already expecting us." "What? But Stacy, you said that we're going to the nail salon. I don't know that I can deal with a hair salon. I was nervous enough with going to a place that just does nails." "I never said that we were going to the nail salon. You did. I said that I would bring you to a manicurist, and I am. The salon has a manicurist on staff. Don't be such a sissy. I promise that my Chrissie will enjoy it." The counselor was back. She used my words to lead me on, and was careful to use her words in a skillful, tricky manner. I signed up for what I thought was going to be a quick in and out affair, and now I was worried about what these new plans entailed. I was still hoping that Stacy would sneak me in the back door of the hair salon and under the cover of mid day darkness (already a flaw in my plan) no one would be the wiser that I was there. I did as I was told and did my best to make my body as smooth as a baby's bottom. Just about the time that I was finishing up something struck me. Why would a salon, any kind of salon, care what my legs look like if I'm only there to have my fingernail fixed? As I walked out of the bathroom and into our bedroom I was prepared to grill Stacy on what was going on. Before I could open my mouth I noticed that she had laid out my clothes for the day. There was a white blouse with simple frills on the collar and a grey inverted pleat skirt. For undergarments there were low-cut white panties, a garter belt, and a matching bra. Classic black pumps and some of the smoothest stockings that I'd ever touched rounded out the outfit. No doubt the smooth legs and body were because I'd be dressed in women's clothes. I thought that I would wear sweats and sunglasses. No one would see me come, and no one would see me go. "What's all this, Stacy? I hope you don't think that I'm going to wear these clothes today." "Chrissie, you're so silly. You're going to a hair salon to see a manicurist. I thought that you wanted to blend in. This is to help you blend in. I went as conservative as I could on the outside so that you won't attract attention, and as daring as I knew that you'd want to be on the inside with top shelf lingerie." This just didn't seem right, so I protested. "No, no, no, no. This isn't right. I'll be the laughing stock of the place." "You're being silly again. The only way that you'll be the laughing stock is if you show up looking like a guy. It's been months now that you've been practicing being a woman. It's time to put you in the game." "Boy, this is all going so fast again." "We can slow it down again, Chrissie. It'll be two months before your nail is back to the way that you like it." There was that two months again. I really enjoyed my long nails, and I wanted to get rid of that ugly duckling as soon as I could. I think that I managed to get the 'O' out in OK when Stacy was already sliding the panties up my legs. I enjoyed the feel of the stockings, but Stacy was so focused on getting me dressed that I barely remember putting them on. The next thing I remembered was sitting at Stacy's makeup table as she put some light daytime makeup on me. "That's perfect. I don't want to put too much on you. We'll deal with it later if we have to. I've made up a purse for you. I put all of your credit cards and identification in there. I also put in some lipstick and blush. Are you ready to go?" I'm not convinced that I even answered. She was laser beam focused. The next thing that I remember was getting in the car. Stacy had pulled out all of the stops. We were taking the old Lincoln. It helped set the mood. She had opened the passenger door for me. I held my skirt, sat down, and pulled me legs into the car the way that a lady does. Apparently the practice had paid off. It was a 30 minute drive across town, so we finally had a few minutes to slow back down and talk. "Stacy, I'm pretty scared. Are you sure that no one will laugh at me?" "The only reason why someone will laugh at you today is if you tell a joke. Remember this, I'm your wife and your best friend. And I don't hang out with ugly chicks. You look great." She's really not at all conceited and a comment like that was somewhat out of character, but I knew what she meant. It actually felt kinda nice to hear it. "Thank you. I'm still scared, but I trust you. Though I can't look that great. I didn't even have time to fix my hair before we left." "Welllll, there's a little more to this visit than just a fingernail, Chrissie. As long as we are there I thought that I would treat you to a new hair color, and a styling. My hair could use a little attention too, so I'll be right there with you the whole time." "A new color? Oh my goodness, I can't do that. What would they say at work?" "You already started going in early so that you can wear your fingernail polish." By going in early I was able to suit up in peace without the other guys asking about my nails. "Your ninja bunny suit hides your whole body. That's what it's supposed to do. How will anyone even know what color your hair is? For that matter does anyone even know how long your hair has grown?" That bunny suit is hard to argue. It really does hide everything. Before answering Stacy I thought about what was before me. A change in hair color would definitely be another step towards being feminized (and I liked the thought of that), especially if I went for a color that was a bit more? bold. My mind started to pick up speed. I've always liked Stacy's hair color. My whole life I've been a dirty blonde, a color lost between sexy blonde and enticing brown. My mind was at full speed now. I could see myself with blonde hair, maybe even put a few highlights in there. I really enjoyed my long hair. I should take care of it so that I enjoy it even more. "Hello, Chris. Are you still with me? No one would notice a change in color would they? I was thinking for color that you could go?" Before she could finish I blurted out, "Blonde! I want to be a blonde, with highlights. I'd like something close to your color. Is that alright?" "Alright? Of course it's alright. I'm only a couple of shades lighter than you today. That'd be perfect. That's my Chrissie. Let's go!" With that Stacy pressed on the accelerator as if to say, "Charge!" It was partially the excitement that made her speed up, and partially because she knew that if I had time to think about this the rational side of me might talk the wild side of me out of the decision. "By the way, Chris, you haven't had much practice in using your feminine voice. You sound natural, but if I were you I'd keep all of your answers and comments short." "That sounds like good advice." I used my feminine voice to answer her, for just that little bit of extra practice. Stacy responded with a big smile so I must have done well. As we rolled up to the hair salon Stacy added one more change to what I thought were the plans. "Chris, there is one more thing to talk about, but this one is easy. In order to fix your nail they're going to put an acrylic tip on what's left of your nail. It'll look like your other nails, but probably not exactly like them. It's really not any more money to get acrylic tips put on all of your nails, and then they'll all match." "I would like for them to all look the same again. I guess that it would be okay to have them do all of my nails." As we got out of the car and walked to the salon I could hear my shoes clicking on the pavement. I thought that everyone must be staring at me, but no one seemed to give me a second look. The skirt kept my steps short, and the high heels forced me to walk with one foot directly in front of the other. I had plenty of practice walking at home, but this felt different. I was outside, the air was moving freely under my skirt, my butt was swaying with each step, and it all felt great. By the time we reached the door I had all but forgotten where we were going. We entered the salon and Stacy spoke first, "Hi Jane. It's good to see you again. This is my girlfriend Chrissie. She and I are here for all sorts of attention today." "Good morning Stacy. We've been expecting you both. Come right this way. Since Chrissie is slated for some color today, we'll start her at that station. Stacy, you can follow Sue to the shampoo area. Chrissie, you can follow me." So much for having Stacy help me through the day. We weren't two minutes into it, and we were going in different directions. "Chrissie, you'll be at the color station for a while. When it's convenient I'll have Lucy our manicurist work on your nails. I understand you had a bad day this week and broke a nail." "Yes." I kept the answer short and tried not to use a falsetto voice. Jane didn't skip a beat, so I must have done okay. "Well we'll pamper you a bit today so that you can forget all about it." Jane introduced me to Tina, the color specialist. Tina looked to be about 25 years old and was slim. Her short spiky hair was fuchsia in color. I considered it her calling card since she was the color specialist of the place. While you couldn't miss her hair, what caught my eye was that she had three earrings in each ear (quite large hoops), and a small ring through her nose. I've always been a sucker for pierced ears and dangly earrings. Over the years hoops were added to the list of adornments that get me highly aroused. It wasn't long after that multiple pierces were added to the list. Stacy has a triple pierce in each ear. I confided in her at one point that her beautiful ears were one of the reasons why I asked her out. She called me crazy, but hey, we all react differently to different things. Tasteful nose piercings have been a recent add to the list and are working their way up the charts. Of course all of this meant that Tina had my attention. I don't think that she caught me staring, but I was certainly enjoying the view. She asked me if I had a specific color in mind and I responded by pointing at Stacy across the room. "I like her color, but would also like a few more highlights." Tina, listened to what I wanted. As I went on her eyes got real large and she nodded feverishly. She obviously liked my ideas. "You're going to look spectacular. With your coloring, you've really chosen the right colors." I was kind of flattered that my little fantasy time in the car ended up being the right decision. This was starting to be a lot of fun. Tina went to work mixing up batches of color and bleach, and then began brushing goo into my hair. Before I knew it portions of my hair were wrapped in foil and the rest of it was pasted together with the goo. While it was fun, it sure didn't smell too good. Tina allowed me to keep my answers short, and did most of the talking. While I was intently watching what was going on, I never felt at all nervous. She stayed busy for quite a while, and then eventually left me to sit. By this time Stacy was only a couple of chairs away so I was able to busy myself by watching her interact with the stylist. When Tina came back she assessed the situation and went back to work. By the time that she was done, the foil was back out, and she seemed pleased with what she saw. She said that I was ready to have a final washing so she shipped me off to Sue's shampoo station where Stacy had been earlier. Sue was very welcoming, "You have beautiful hair, Chrissie. From what I can tell the color looks great. I think that you're going to love it. I hope that you're going to keep it long." "Oh absolutely. I've been growing it out for a while now, and really enjoying it. I'm hoping that it will get even longer." I had never spoken with anyone but Stacy about my hair, so talking with Tina and Sue about this was a new experience. It was kind of fun. It struck me at one point that I was hardly keeping my answers and comments short. Sue didn't seem to pick up on anything, so I relaxed and just enjoyed the conversation. I looked over at Stacy at one point and she was all smiles. It was obvious that she liked seeing me enjoy myself in the salon. There was no question that I was having fun. Sue was friendly, and her shampoo skills were great. It was very relaxing, and I really enjoyed the smell of her shampoo. When Sue was done she brought me to the same stylist that was just finishing styling Stacy's hair. Her name was Rachel, and she had done a great job making Stacy look even sexier than she already was. She had just trimmed the ends of Stacy's hair so there was no appreciable loss in length. Then Rachel put a real soft curl in her flowing locks. She looked great. Stacy was happy to see me as I approached her chair, "Chrissie, you're still all wet, but I can see already that your hair is quite a bit lighter. I'm so excited for you." Rachel helped Stacy out of the chair so that I could be her next victim. "Okay Stacy, you're all set. If you want to help, you can go find Lucy. I'm going to do a bit of trimming, but not much. Chrissie, whoever did your hair last did an excellent job." I could see that Stacy heard that as she walked away. She definitely looked a bit lighter on her feet after she heard that." Rachel was combing my hair to understand what she had to work with when Stacy made her way back with Lucy. "Lucy, this is my good friend Chrissie. On the way here I talked her into a full acrylic set, and here's the fun part. She'd like a glamour length. She's thinking roughly one half inch beyond the end of her fingers. Isn't that right, Chrissie?" "Uh, uhh, what? I didn't think that I would change the length at all." "Oh Chrissy, you know how you like long nails. This is your big chance. Go ahead and go for it. In fact Lucy, go ahead and get started. Chrissie and I can fight it out later." Apparently the plans were still not what I thought they were. As I sat there feeling somewhat betrayed, Stacy leaned in and whispered in my ear, "Don't worry. If you don't want them at the end of the weekend I can trim them back to your regular length." That made me feel a lot better, and I started to relax again. Stacy had kept good care of my nails, so Lucy had very little prep work to do aside from cutting back my real nails. That was a little disheartening, but then when she started gluing on the long tips I became excited. "Wow, are they really going to be that length? It was obvious that Lucy had been asked that question before, because she almos