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I was an average 16 year old boy. I just got into a lot of trouble. Mostly of my own making. OK, I was a arrogant goof off, who didn't care about anyone but myself. I knew Mom and Dad and especially my older sister (Marie) were just about fed up with me. I just didn't know how fed up they were. I begged Sis to take me to the mall so I could meet a bunch of my not too savory friends. But she refused. I was mad, Very mad. And like the sixteen old foolish boy that i was, I wanted to lash out at her. Dad has bowling with some friends and Mom and Marie decided to visit Grandma, effectively leaving me home alone, mad at the world. I went up to my room to sulk and in doing so I passed my sister's room. As i glanced in the door I saw one of her bras hanging half in and half out of one of her drawers in her dresser. Something in me snapped. I saw that bra and was so mad at Marie, without thinking too much, I went to that drawer and pulled the bra out of the drawer and tied the silky confection into a tight, tight knot. There were other bras in the drawer and they each found their way into my hands and were strangled in their own knots. I shoved them all back into the drawer and thought to myself: That will teach that bitch! All three of them, always riding me about my clothes, they "weren't neat enough", my room, it "wasn't neat enough, not like your sister's", my hair, "too long for a respectable young man". Even my nails: "You should take care of them and show some pride in your appearance". I said to hell with them and went to my room to sulk. A couple hours later Mom and Sis and Dad all came home at about the same time. I heard them laughing in the hall. I heard Sis go into her room and close the door. Then we all heard her scream. "What the hell! What, Who, ruined all my bras!!!!" Mom and Dad ran to Sis's room. They saw her clenching an armful of bras, all tied into untie-able knots. I could hear Mom calming Marie down. I could hear Sis saying "He did this". Then I heard Mom and Dad leave her alone and go back down stairs, without saying a word to each other. But I knew they would be doing a lot of talking in the living room. About then I realized that I probably had been pretty stupid. And I wished I could vanish for a long time. But that wish was not going to be granted. About an hour later, I heard Mom making several phone calls. I caught the words: "Immediate appointment" and "Yes, for my son". Then I heard Mom and Dad come up the stairs and go into Sis's room. There was some words which I couldn't hear. Then I heard Marie say very loudly, "That sounds like a damn good idea!" I heard what sounded like Mom and Sis rooting through closets and drawers and giggling. A few minutes later, my door opened. Mom and Dad came into my room. Mom was carrying one of the knotted bras, the pink silk one. They didn't look happy. Dad spoke, in a very grave voice. "Son, we have had it. We have given you everything and you have done everything a boy can do to spit on us in return. Today it is going to stop. "Your mother knows this story. I have never thought that I would be telling it to you, but I am going to right now. "When I was about your age, I was just like you. To be blunt, I was a jerk, a 16 year old jerk. I did something, I am not going to tell you what I did. But it was bad. I got caught. And I mouthed off to my Mom and Dad. Mom told Dad 'leave him to me' and Dad turned and walked out of the room. Mom looked at me and said 'Son, till you learn what it means to be a decent caring man and son, you are not going to be a son or a man around here anymore. "And she made good on that promise. When she had finished with me, and it was more than a few weeks later before she was done with me, I knew what it meant to be a man and a son because she took me to another place. A place I never wanted to go to and never want to go again. "So, Son, today your mother and I are going to take you to that place. I think you will soon appreciate what you have had and what, maybe, you can have again. It's up to you. "Now, I am going to leave you to your mother. At certain times I will join her in creating your punishment. DO NOT cause her any trouble or your punishment may become your life." Dad turned and left the room. Mom turned to me and said, "Stand there, don't move." She left the room and went to sis's room and came back very quickly with a pile of clothes in her arms. "Take off all your clothes, right now!" I was so shocked at her voice, I just stood there. She slapped me hard. "I said take off all those boy clothes, right now, you silly boy!" She had never struck me before. I was in shock. I pulled off my shirt and pants and stood trembling in front of my mother in my jockey shorts. "I said, take off all your clothes!" "Do you mean my underwear too?" "Of course! You won't be needing those ugly boy garments any longer." What did she mean by "ugly boy garments"? I stripped off my underwear and stood naked, at 16 years old, in front of my mother. I didn't know what to do with my hands. My mother said, "Well don't just stand there naked, you have to put on some clothes. Step into these." From the pile of clothing she had laid on the bed, she tossed me a pair of pink silk panties, a pair of my sister's panties. "Mom, you can't be serious. These are girls panties, I can't wear them." "If you can tie bras in knots, you can and will wear panties. Put them on immediately! Now young man, or you will be out on the street stark naked. And I do mean what I say. Your time as a selfish boy, teenager or not, is over." I jumped to step into the pink panties and slid them up over my 16 year old penis and around my shaking butt. When they were in place. Mom walked around me to check the fit. "These will do for today. I am sure a better fit will be arranged." "Mom, please don't make me wear these panties. I feel foolish." "Of course you feel foolish. That is the idea. That is the punishment. You are to be humiliated like you have never known humiliation before. "Enough of your protests. Take your punishment like the boy you used to be." "Yes, mother. I just don't want to wear girl's clothes." "Foolish boy, of course you do. And if you don't, you will be just that much more humiliated. "Now, since you ruined all your sister's bras, I am going to have to loan you one of mine. Won't that be nice for a humiliation? A 16 year old boy wearing his mother's bra. Again, it will do for today. Tomorrow we will get just the right fit for you." She picked up a bra from the pile and held it up by the straps in front of my face and allowed me to see what i was to wear. "This is an underwire full support push up bra, which I wear when I am feeling particularly flirty. It may not be the right style for you, but it will do for today. Tomorrow we will choose the right styles for you. "Put your arms straight out in front of you." "Mom! Please! I am a boy. I am almost a man. I can't wear a bra!" "Yes you can and yes you will if you ever want to be considered a member of this family again. Now put your arms out so I can strap you into your first bra. Just think, tomorrow you will be fitted for your own bras and many other wonderful things. Now smile and put your arms out." Trembling and fighting back, not too successfully, a tear, I did so. She slipped the shoulder straps onto my arms and up on my shoulders. She then went around behind me and grabbed each loose end of the bra and brought them together. Then she whispered in my ear. "I get to fasten my son's first bra. I never thought I would say that. But it does feel very nice to say it. I fastened Marie's first bra for her, also. From now on you will have to do it yourself." The bra got tighter around my chest and I felt her fasten the hooks and eyes, probably on the last setting. She then came around in front of me, and with a big smile, she adjusted the straps so that the underwires brought what little excess flesh I had in that area, snuggly into the cups. Giving me an appraising eye, she reached for some curved pads which she had also on the bed. She slipped a pad into each cup and the bra cups stood out with no wrinkles in the material. "So, my son is a 'B' cup. Who would have guessed? You should be proud to have such a nice set." I gazed down at my chest in disbelief. I was wearing a bra. I had realistic breasts sticking out from my chest. "Now put these jeans on." She handed me a pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans which had sequins outlining the pockets and around the waist and down the sides of each leg. I stepped into the jeans and they were very tight. I had to work hard to get them up my legs and settled on my butt. They "settled" about three inches lower on my midsection than did my own jeans and they seemed molded to me. My butt seemed to be more rounded and to stick straight out in the back, but tightly curved down over the top part of my legs. "Those will do for now. After tomorrow you probably won't have any jeans anyway. I think you are more the skirt and dress type of son. "Which do you think you would prefer? Dresses or skirts? "I have never thought to ask my son that question before. Kind of humiliating for a boy like you, isn't it? Well, when we get to trying dresses and skirts on tomorrow you will be even more humiliated. You will be a boy in a dress. Think about it. You should have thought about a lot of things before you knotted up those bras. Hope it was worth it to you. At least you will find out which you prefer on your body, dresses or skirts." Next she picked up off the bed a pair of silver lame ballet flats. "Put these on. I think they will be tight but again, it is only for today. Heels in the proper size will come tomorrow along with the skirts and dresses. I think you will find that skirts and dresses will call for a rather high heel so that your lovely stockinged legs will show well. It will be rather humiliating for you to have to learn how to walk in heels. Maybe we can get a few of your female friends to give you lessons." I slipped into the slippers and looked down at my feet by peering over my bra cups. My bra cups, what a thought. I was humiliated. "Now, son, I hate to do it, because you look so cute in that bra, but let's get you into a nice blouse. Unless you want to be very brave and go with the 'bra as an outer garment' look? Don't worry, I won't do that to you. At least not today." She reached for the final garment on the bed and handed me a white sheer cotton blouse with short puffy sleeves and a Peter Pan collar. I slipped my arms into the blouse and she helped my with the unfamiliar buttons. The blouse was so sheer, there was no mistaking that I had a bra on underneath. Besides the bra cups gave the blouse all the shape it needed. "Well, that actually fits very nicely. What I really have in mind for you are some blouses which are buttoned in the back. That gives such a nice stylish look to the front of the blouse and really accentuates your breasts. You will see what I mean tomorrow." I was wearing the clothes of a 16 year old girl and I had the shape of a 16 year old girl. "Mom, why are you doing this to me? I promise I will never be bad again. Please don't make me wear these clothes." "Sorry, son, we are doing this to you because you have proven yourself to be a boorish boy. You may become a boorish man very soon. We are not going to let that happen. If you can't be a good boy, then you WILL learn to be a good girl. "You haven't been a good son. Now you will have the chance to be a good daughter. "Maybe you can redeem yourself. Your father did years ago. He went through this punishment and much worse and became a better man for it. Of course, you may like the new you and maybe will want to stay the beautiful young lady you are going to become. That is your decision. BUT for now this is your punishment. And it will stay your punishment until you are a better son or a new daughter. It's up to you." I had tears in my eyes. "Mom, how long are you going to punish me like this? The summer just started and I wanted to have fun with my friends." "Son, your father and I have laid out a course of punishment which should take about two weeks to accomplish. If at the end of our schedule you still don't seem to have understood your place in our family, we may have to go to the extreme measures which were employed on your father. That could take several months. And possibly some punishments will not be able to be reversed. So you better learn to like your punishment and to grow through your humiliations." I hung my head in shame and was confronted with the sight of my very feminine blouse and chest. Mom gathered up her purse and shocked the hell out of me when she said, "Now, son, it's off to the beauty salon for you and me. We have appointments in 45 minutes." "Beauty Salon! Mom! I am a man. I can't go to a beauty salon. A beauty salon is for women, like you and Marie." "Son, let's gets something straight in your head. For at least the next two weeks you are not a boy. You are not a man. You are going to be, and just look at yourself right now, for want of a better term, a sissy. You are going to be just like me and Marie, except you will be humiliated doing it. Do you understand me? Dad came back into the bedroom at that point and looked me over. He didn't smile, laugh, frown or anything else. He just appraised me. "Well, maybe there is a good side to you having all that long hair. When I was your age, and had to undergo this type of punishment, I had a crew cut so I had to endure all those hot and smelly wigs. I am sure the salon will do lovely things with your hair since you have given them so much to work with. "I will try to stop by the salon a little later. I will be quite interested to see what my son looks like with his hair in rollers and nets and sitting under a big salon dryer. Maybe a very hot dryer will make a man of you." Then Dad said to Mom, "Honey, give me one of your lipsticks. Maybe for his first time it should be one of your pinks shades." Mom placed a black L'Oreal tube into his hands. Dad slowly pulled the top off the tube and very slowly he twisted the bottom of the tube. The shiny shaft rose higher and higher in front of my eyes. Dad looked at the pink shaft and then he looked at me, his son. "Son, close your eyes and open your lips slightly. "My father did this to me. I never thought I would have to do this to my son. But it has to be done. "I am going to paint your lips in a Cupid Bow just as my father did to me. I bet you will learn to enjoy the process after a few days." "DAD! Please don't do it. I am your son, not your daughter. I don't wear lipstick! That's for girls!" "Yes, you do, son. For at least the next two weeks you will wear lipstick 24 hours a day because for the next two weeks you will be at least a sissified boy or better yet a woman in training. You think lipstick is for girls? Well, son, you ARE going to BE a lipsticked girl. "Now hold your head still and be man enough to accept this humiliation." I felt the lipstick come in contact with my lips and felt my dad coat my lips very gently and precisely and confidently with the pink lipstick. When he had finished, he handed me a tissue and told me to do what I had seen my mother do many times. I took the tissue and put it between my lips and pressed down, leaving a lip print on the tissue. Dad then took the tube and reapplied a second coat. He then rewound the tube and put the top back on it. He then handed me the tube and said, "You're going to need this. Put it in your pocket, son. You won't have a purse until tomorrow." Dad left the room and Mom took a brush and carefully brushed my long hair into a very manly hair style, with a part on one side and brushed back behind my ears on each side. She put a bobby pin on each side to hold it in place behind the ears. "You will have to go to the salon dressed as you are with your hair in a manly style so that all who see you will see a boy wearing lipstick and a blouse and a bra. By the time we get to the salon, I bet you will be begging to look more like a woman so you won't be so humiliated." "Mom, Please!" "Marie, come here and say goodbye to your brother. He has as appointment for a trim, wash, roller set, salon dry, hair styling and makeup at the Pink Panther. Won't that be nice for him?" "Oh Mom, he looks so cute! Those lips! Those tits! That ass!" "Now, Marie, you shouldn't embarrass your brother with all those compliments. Wait till he comes back from the salon. Can you imagine him in curlers,under the dryer, having his nails done? I have a feeling they will do wonders with him. Then you can compliment him on his makeup and coiffure." "When we do some back, Marie, he will be yours to play with the rest of the night. If you want to try different makeups or hairstyles or clothes on him, you may. Find a nice peignoir set for him to wear to bed this evening, something with a built-in bra would be nice, and you may want to think about, even though he has just had a set, giving him a roller set to sleep in tonight. He will need a full head of curls for our shopping trip tomorrow. I know I can rely on you to take care of your brother. Your sissy brother. "Now, son, give your sister a little kiss on the cheek. Isn't that sweet! A dainty little lip print on your sister's cheek. Your lip print from your lipstick, my son. "Now stand up straight and push your chest out proudly and let's get going to the salon. We can't keep the girls waiting. And they ARE waiting for you." Mom put her arm around my waist and gently led me to the car. As we walked, she whispered in my ear, "Miss Vickie at the salon is dying to get to work on you. She has done this type of punishment before and just loves doing it. When I called her she was bubbling with excitement. She even suggested that she enter you into her schedule book under the name of Wendy. She has always thought that a very appropriate name for a sissy. So, I had to agree. From now on, at least for the next two weeks, my son's name is Wendy. Wendy Sissy. So cute! "Now get in the car and sit up straight. Make sure your seat belt is fastened. Isn't it so nice how it fits right between your breasts and gives even more definition to your girlish figure?" "Mom, please don't make me go out like this. I look silly. I can't stand to have people see me like this. Can't we just stay home and you can do whatever you want to me. I will be good. I promise." "Wendy, please be quiet and speak only when spoken to. We will start proper young lady deportment lessons tomorrow. Obviously they are needed badly. Now shut up those lipstick coated lips and do only what you are told and speak only when you are asked to do so." Mother slammed the car door shut and went around to the driver's side and got in. She put the car in gear and looked at me. "Your first car trip as a girl. Well, almost a girl. Wait till we come home. Then you will be a girl. My son will be a beautiful girl. A girl named Wendy." The car started moving and my mind was just about shot. I didn't know what to think or what to feel. My lips felt strange with their coat of lipstick. The seatbelt tugged across my bra encased breasts. My jeans were so tight I could hardly bend to sit in the car seat. The ballet flats shimmered in the sunlight from the car window. Very soon after we started Mom exclaimed, "Oh Goody! We are coming to a stop light and it will be red. This will be your first outside the family humiliation. Get your lipstick out of your pocket and open it like your father did. Flip down the makeup mirror above you. Now as soon as we stop at the light, you will take your lipstick and refresh your lips, using the mirror. While you are doing it, I want you to be sure to turn and smile at the truck driver in the van next to us. Here we are. Show the nice man how a sissy puts on lipstick, Wendy." I had put the mirror down and saw my strange face in it. When Mother told me what to do, I just did it. I had never used a lipstick before but it didn't seem to hard a thing to do. I had seen Mom and Marie do this same action many many times. Mom watched me carefully as I brought the tube to my lips. I checked the mirror and pressed the tip of the tube to my upper lip and smoothed the cream across my lip. At that time I did a quarter turn to the right and with my lipstick in hand did my lower lip while looking at the man in the van next to us. I heard him say to the man in his passenger seat, "I think that is a boy putting on lipstick in the car next to us. There's all kind of queers in this world." The light changed but the blush on my face was just as red as the red light had been. Mom laughed and said, "Get used to it Sweetie, there is a reason we call this a punishment. Besides you did a very nice job, this being the first time you applied your own lipstick. I remember the first time Marie applied her own lipstick. I was so proud of her. Such a little lady! I can't say I am proud of you but maybe sometime in the next two weeks I will be able to do so. But I think you will be a natural!" I closed my eyes and tried to put all the thoughts of what these people at the salon may do to me out of my head. Unfortunately most of those thoughts were still left in my head because we arrived at the salon in just a few minutes. The salon was in a long strip mall, at the very south end of the building. Mom pulled into a parking spot very close to the north end of the strip mall. Since it was about four in the afternoon, the mall was very busy. "OK, son, out you go. Go down to the salon and go right in. Tell the receptionist that you are my son and have come for your appointment with Miss Vickie. I am sure they will be happy to welcome you. I have to stop at the cleaners and pick up a few things. I will be along shortly. But I am sure that a big 16 year old sissy like you can handle herself very nicely till Mommy comes. Bye." "Mom!!!! I can't walk all the way down to the salon. People will see me. I have lipstick on and a bra showing underneath a blouse." "Of course, people will see you. That is the idea. You are being punished. Every day for at least the next two weeks people will see you. Speaking of lipstick, stop half way down the mall and use a store window as a mirror to apply another coat of your lipstick. You don't really need another application but it will be fun seeing you apply lipstick in the middle of all those people walking on the sidewalk. Just think, after the salon, you will at least look like a girl. Then it won't be so bad. But now I want you to be a spectacle. A sissy spectacle. An embarrassing spectacle to yourself. Now get out of the car and do what you have been told. Walk very straight and tall so your bra thrusts out. Bye." I opened the door and put my flats on the asphalt. My body unwound and when I stood up my breasts seemed bigger than when I got in the car. Several people were walking by the car and I could see glances coming my way. I walked to the sidewalk and turned left towards the salon. It seemed a long way off. I started walking and it seemed that every store was pouring customers onto the sidewalk just as I was to pass. My butt felt very tight in my Gloria Vanderbilts and my silver slippers sparkled in the bright sunlight. After about five storefronts I remembered my instructions. I stopped at the window of a nail salon. I looked through the window and saw several women in various stages of nail work. One or two looked in my direction. I took my lipstick out of my pocket and again unrolled the shaft and brought it to my lips. One of the women inside poked a woman next to her and then all in the shop were watching this boy in a bra put a lovely pink coat of lipstick on his lips. I finished the process to the applause of the spectators in the shop and continued my path to the salon. This was going to be some punishment. I looked back to where I had left my mother. She was standing in front of the dry cleaners, watching me. She saw me look and blew me a kiss. She turned and went into the cleaners. I turned and walked to the door of the salon. Taking a deep breath, which caused my bra to press against my blouse, I pushed open the door to the salon and stepped inside, resigned to my fate and my punishment. The smell hit me at once. I had never been in a beauty salon before. The smell was something I had never encountered as a boy playing ball or riding my bike. It really wasn't a bad smell, just a smell I was not used. There were several women sitting in the waiting area, reading magazines or talking with each other. One twosome seemed to be a mother and her 11 year old daughter. I didn't make eye contact with any of those women but I could feel their stares taking me in. I walked straight to the receptionist's desk. A lovely young woman of about 25 sat behind the desk and smiled as I came close. She looked me over from top to bottom and before I could say a thing, she said to me, "Good afternoon, sir, how can we help you?" "My mother told me to say that I had an appointment with Miss Vickie, listed under the name of Wendy." "Let me see, sir. Miss Vickie does have an appointment listed for a wash, trim, roller set, salon dry, styling and makeup for a Wendy in 15 minutes. Are you Wendy? And, Wendy, I must say that your blouse is very cute." "Thank you very much. I must be the Wendy for that appointment. My mother did mention those things. This is my first time, so I am not really sure what is to be done to me." I lowered my voice and asked the young lady, "Will it hurt?" She laughed. "Well, Miss Wendy, please have a seat and Miss Vickie will be with you shortly. Here is a the latest copy of Teen Miss which you can look at for a few minutes while you are waiting for your stylist. There are some very interesting articles on eye shadow and tampons in there." I took the magazine and found a seat across from the mother and daughter and between two nicely dressed 40 something women. The mother placed her hand over her mouth so I could not see her snicker. The girl was open mouthed. The woman to my left reached over and patted my hand. She looked me in the eye and said, "Have you been a bad boy? I bet you have. Well, your mother probably thinks you deserve this. And she is probably right. I have seen other boys being dragged in here to see Miss Vickie. Just let me say that you are showing a lot more nerve than those poor boys. And let me say that when those boys who were dragged in her by their mothers had been finished by Miss Vickie, they left here a lot more docile than when they came in. Prettier too." "Yes, mame, my mother and father say that I have to have a change of attitude. A major change. As you can see, the change has started. Miss Vickie is the next step." "Well, honey, did I hear your name is Wendy?" "Yes, mam, I am to be called Wendy, at least for the next two weeks." "Well, Wendy, I love your lipstick. Such a nice pink for a young lady. But those bad boys never left here wearing pink lipstick. Their lipstick was always deep scarlet when they left. Good luck, son." The woman on the other side of me was chuckling and the little girl and her mother were deep in conversation while never taking their eyes off me. Just at that time my mother walked through the door. She spotted me and came right over. "Wendy, give your mother a kiss on the cheek. Aren't they ready for us yet? "I see you have been getting acquainted with some of Miss Vickie's customers. That is wonderful since you will be good customer here also. "Hi, ladies! Have you met my son, Wendy? Wendy is a 16year old boy. Wendy is being punished for being a nasty boy. I hope as he goes through all the procedures here today, you will stop by and offer encouragement or just stop by to laugh at him. That's why he is here. To be humiliated and ridiculed and also to be made very pretty." The women and the girl all nodded their heads and congratulated my mother for doing what had to be done. just then the receptionist called "Wendy and his Mother" My mother helped me to my feet and put her arm through mine and we walked together into the working area of the salon. We were led to a styling station which had two styling chairs side by side. Miss Vickie was standing there behind the first chair. She motioned for me to sit in that chair. My mother sat in the other one. Miss Vickie was about 5' 10" plus 3 inch heels. She looked like Marilyn Monroe on steroids. Her hair and makeup were impeccable. She was a formidable woman. "My sweets, welcome to Miss Vickie's station. I will personally take care of young Wendy. My assistant, Brenda will do the Mother." "Wendy, I know exactly what you need. So don't say a word. Just do as I tell you and be quiet. First thing is to give you a shampoo. Lean back as I adjust the chair over the sink and we will take care of that matter very fast." Miss Vickie took a pink rayon cape and draped it around my next and covering up my blouse with the bra so evident underneath. The shampoo started. Miss Vickie, herself did my wash and seemed to be inspecting my long hair very carefully. My mother was also being washed at the next sink. We finished at about the same time. Miss Vickie towel dried my hair to a medium dampness and then took a comb and combed my hair straight all around my head. She looked at the length for a long time and then the scissors and the comb and the razors seemed to fly around my head. After a while she grunted and all motion stopped. She surveyed her work and liked what she saw. "Wendy, here is a tissue. Please wipe off that juvenile pink lipstick. We will take care of lipstick a little later. My boys never wear pink." Brenda was working on mother and had already started to roll her hair on medium rollers. Miss Vickie grabbed a comb and started separating my hair into sections and with great skill she rolled my hair on slightly smaller rollers than my mother was being rolled on. Miss Vickie applied a smelly lotion she called a setting gel and wound the rollers to the point of pain in my scalp. I noticed that mom's rollers were all baby blue and mine were pink. As i have said, my hair was very long for a boy. The trim didn't take much away in length. My mother's hair was completely rolled while I was still in the process. She came over to me and patted my hand. "How many rollers will you use on him, Miss Vickie?" "I just finished number 25 and think their will be about seven more to go. I have made the rollers very close and very tight. He will have a mass of curls to work with later." Soon she was done. But instead of putting me directly under a dryer, she said that for a boy like me, she wanted to have a finished product sit under the dryer. Mom clapped her hands and said that sounded like a wonderful idea. Miss Vickie had me sit down in the styling chair once again with my head totally rolled. "Now, Wendy, we will do your makeup. Since it is getting rather late in the day, I will do a more sophisticated night time makeup on you. Something that will allow you to go out tonight or just back home to show your father." "Now sit still, young man, I am going to make you pretty. As pretty as a girl can be. Remember, soon you will learn to do this yourself. Relax and don't move unless I tell you to." Mom stood net to Miss Vickie and watched intently the whole process. I was not allowed to see anything. Tubes and jar and wands and brushes appeared at Miss Vickie's side. With the skill and speed of an artist, confident in her trade, Miss Vickie went to work of this poor boy. Until my father applied my pink lipstick a few hours earlier, I had never worn any makeup in my life. I was a boy, for God's sake. Boys didn't wear makeup. Now I was. Miss Vickie talked as she worked but didn't want any back talk unless she asked a question. She told me and my mother what she was doing with every step. The foundation covered my face which had yet to feel a razor across it. It was a rather neutral beige, giving a base and a shade, not a color. Miss Vickie attacked my eye brows with a passion. I found out that plucking can be very painful. "A girl must have very defined eye brows. I prefer my boys to have a substantial arch and a swept wing. Wendy, I will give you a truly feminine look to your brows. Now a little eyebrow pencil to further define the sweep and that part of the process will be done." Mom loved the plucking process. "Now we will give you the smoky eyes which will attract male and female attention from across a smokey room." 15 minutes later, after the application of four different shades to each eye, my eye lids felt weighted down. Then came the wands and the pencils as those smokey eyes were outlined and rimmed and my lashes grew a half inch with three coats of heavy mascara. Mom oohed and ached and kissed my hand. "I always knew your lashes were wasted on a boy." Miss Vickie wielded a new brush very gently. The blusher floated across my cheeks, bringing a woman's life to a dull boy's face. The she took a powder puff and set all the make up with a matte shine. "Now, Wendy, where you had that little girl pink lipstick a while ago, now you will have the lips and the lipstick of a real woman." Again pencils and tubes appeared and I could do nothing to stop them. I saw a dark red pencil come to my lips and felt Miss Vickie outline my lips a great deal further out of my natural lip line than my father had done. Then she showed me a lipstick still in the tube which was the color of blood. She brought a brush to the tube and as an artist she painted my lips, and then painted them again. Then came the gloss. My makeup was done. And so was I. My mother applauded and hugged Miss Vickie. Brenda took my mother back to the other chair and gave her rollered hair a misting of water to wet it a little. Miss Vickie did the same to me. My curlers were wetted in anticipation of being installed under the dryer. My mother and I would be side by side. The dryers were huge stainless steel torpedo shaped machines which came down from the ceiling above each styling chair. Now I was allowed to see myself in the mirror as the helmet was lowered over my rollered head. The pink cape had been removed and my breasts and bra showed through the sheer blouse. With helmet lowered down over my hair, all that showed in the mirror was the helmet and the precision makeup art on the confused face that supported the rollers. A manicurist and her table came into view next to my left hand. The dryer was turned on, high and Mis Vickie used sign language to tell us that we, mother and son, would be under the dryer for 50 minutes. Mom squeezed my right hand as the manicurist started her torture on my left. I noticed a bottle of nail polish on her cart which looked to be the same shade as my new lipstick. At about the 40 minute mark on the timer, after my nails had been done a scarlet red and were air drying, my father came into the working area of the salon. He hugged Miss Vickie as he would an old friend. He came to my mother under her dryer and stroked her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Then he came to where I was encased in the dryer. He took the helmet and raised it off my head. He looked at his son. His son with his head covered in rollers. His son completely made up as much as Judy Garland. His son wearing a blouse and a bra. He took his hands and felt the tightness of the rollers. He gently touched my newly painted nails. He traced the arc of my new eye brows. He raised my chin so he could better see my painted lips. Then he took the helmet and lowered it back down over my head. As he was lowering it, I heard him say to Miss Vickie, "He will have at least three appointments each week and maybe more over a longer period of time if there is a need." He turned and left the salon. The timer on the dryers both chimed at the same time. Brenda took the dryer off my mother's head and started to unroll her set. Miss Vickie patted my shoulder and did the same to my dryer. Very quickly she unwound each and every roller and soon there were a mass of curls all over my head. I watched, fascinated as the curls lay caressing my head. Miss Vickie saw that I was looking at my curls. "No, no, Wendy. The curls do not stay this time. Maybe when you come for your perm later this week you will have curls. These curls I will now brush out and use then to give you a sleek hair style somewhat like a 1960's Doris Day. A lot of volume and a sleek outline to give your head a coiffure which could only be a woman's hair do." And that is what she did. Brenda gave my mother her usual page boy style with under turned flips. My hair was a confection of styling gel and hairspray which sat on my head like a fluffy helmet. Miss Vickie told me to stand next to my mother. We both looked in the mirror at a mother and a daughter who had just had their hair done at an elegant salon. Except the daughter is really a son. I felt like crying but mother saw that and immediately said, "Don't you dare cry. You will ruin your makeup." All the ladies who had been in the salon and some who had come in later all gathered around us. The little 11 year old girl cautiously reached out and touch the hardness of my lacquered hair do. She smiled and asked her mother if they could do that to her big brother. Mom told me to thank Miss Vickie and to kiss her hand. I did as I was told. I heard mom telling Miss Vickie to put Wendy down for a perm in three days time. My mother and her new daughter walked hand in hand to the salon door. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that i wasn't afraid to go out in the world anymore. I looked like a very sophisticated and worldly young lady. I was a 16 year old girl with a professional makeup job and a exquisite, to die for, hair do. Mom must have known what I was thinking. "You think this isn't so bad as a punishment now, don't you? Well, enjoy the trip home. Your sister is waiting for you. That can't be pleasant. Tomorrow I am sure we will find a way to let everyone you meet as you are fitted for bras and girdles know that you are just a boy in girlish training. Some days you will be in full makeup as you are now, but in boys clothes. Other days you will be in the clothes of a seven year old girl with no makeup. Wait till you buy your first box of tampons. Hell, wait till you learn how to insert tampons. And, my lovely little boy, you have an appointment at my gynecologist for a mammogram and a vaginal exam. I haven't decided if you will go to that doctor in girl's clothes or in boy's clothing but with full makeup. What do you think would be appropriate? Eh? Wendy???" We left the salon with mom wondering out loud if I should have breast implants or not. "Wendy, dear boy, do you think they should be C or D size?" I didn't have a ready answer. Mom didn't wait for an answer. She kept right on with her musings on my punishment. "Wendy, before we go home to your sister's tender ministrations, let's sit here on this bench. I want to make the coming weeks very clear to you. I don't think you really quite understand yet." I sat down on the park bench on the mall sidewalk with loads of people wandering by. Mom sat next to me. "Sit up straight, Wendy, like a proper young lady. If you slouch, Missy, your posture will become all out of whack and no one will be able to admire your fine young breasts. And also, when a lady sits down, usually she will take the palm of her hand and pat her hairdo to be sure all is in it's proper place. "Now, let me see how you do that." I sat up as straight as possible and my bra thrust out to strain my blouse. I took the palm of my right hand and gently patted the hairdo near my right ear. I did the same with my left hand. Mother beamed! "Very nicely done. Just as a true sissy would do." "But that is what I have to talk to you about. Right now you are a beautiful young lady and unless I tell someone, they would not know that you are a nasty boy who is being severely punished. So don't think that you will get off easy by being a beautiful girl with on one the wiser. That's not what is going to happen. I made you beautiful today so you would know that being a woman might just be fun and glamourous. Even though you started out hating this day, I bet by now you would admit that you had fun and do think that you are glamourous so this punishment won't be so bad. Get that idea out of your pretty head. "The idea is not to make you a beautiful woman, but to show you to everyone in the city that you are a nasty teenage boy who is being made to wear woman's clothing and makeup for the pure humiliation you are to experience. "I mentioned some things which are in your immediate future, maybe you should know and think about some other things also. "Starting tomorrow you will be wearing 3 inch pumps at all times. This is when you are dressed as a boy too, not just when you are in female clothes. The only time you will not have to wear heels is when you are showering or playing tennis. One never wears heels while in a tennis skirt. If you are going somewhere special, you may have to wear 4 inch stilettos. That is something to look forward to, isn't it? "Starting right now you will be required to wear professional quality lipstick 24 hours a day. No just slapping a swipe of a lipstick across your mouth. You will have to wear the total lipliner, lipstick, gloss package every minute of the day and night. You will be required to have your lipstick with you at all times and will be required to reapply your lipstick every two hoarser at any time I or your father or your sister tell you to do so. You will NOT be allowed to use an all day lipstick. A girly boy has to be required to apply his lipstick dozens of times a day. "Starting right now at no time in the next two weeks, except showering, will your breasts be without the support of a bra. This includes male clothing as well as female clothing. During the course of these two weeks, at my or your father's discretion, the size of your breast forms, which we are starting out as a B, may be increased, possibly as far as a DD. Again it makes no difference if you are to be put in male clothes or female clothes. You will have a selection of bras to choose from but you will also at times be required to wear a corset or longline bras. "Think how you will feel attending the high school baseball game at the school field, wearing a t-shirt with a black bra underneath. Or walking into church on Sunday in a boy's suit while wearing 4 inch silver lame stilettos. You know that "click click" sound heels make on the marble floors at church? That sound will be coming from you. "Think about just your hair for the next two weeks. You will have six appointments with Miss Vickie. You will have a perm. You will have highlights and color changes. You will be required to have your hair in curlers every night for bed. Will your ponytail bother you when you are bowling with the guys? Is an undo with rhinestone clips suitable for working on your jalopy? "Are you going to enjoy the modeling classes you will have to attend three times a week for the next two weeks? I checked with the school. The course schedule for these two weeks is "Evening gowns, Cocktail dresses, and Bridal gowns". Your father and sister are going to love that fashion show! "By the way, our first stop tomorrow, after fixing your hair, is to have a pedicure. You will be wearing a lot of open toed pumps. Then you must have your ears pierced. Long dangling earrings are a must with the gowns in your modeling class. "Wendy, I could go on and on. You are going to go through hell. You deserve it. That is just a few of the tortures we intend to put you through. Miss Vickie's today was the easiest part of the punishment. "For your information, next Saturday your Aunt Gwendolyn is having a family and neighbors pool party. We are all going. Do you think you would prefer a figure flattering spandex one piece swimsuit with a molded bra built in or maybe a cute little yellow with white polka dots two piece bikini? "Well we have to get you home. This is just the first few hours of your punishment. Tough! "Oh, wait, I just thought of something, Marie asked that we bring something home her to play with tonight with you. "I will wait here. Here is some money. We just have to get you into carrying purses as soon as possible. Go into the drug store down the mall and buy Marie a big box of Tampax Super Absorbent Tampons. I haven't the vaguest idea what she wants to do with them. She usually just uses pads. Well, I am sure you will be learning all about pads and tampons and periods over the next fourteen days. Right son?"