Good News Bad News
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Good News, Bad News, Part 3 free porn video
Good News, Bad News, Part 3
By Pindick
"Hello, April." I groaned inwardly. My personnel director was NOT the
person I wanted to see at the Pink Pearl Spa, especially with me dressed
in girly jeans, an embroidered T-shirt and four-inch heels and carrying a
tiny little purse. My wife, Laney, had dropped me off a few minutes
earlier, explaining out loud in matter-of-fact terms the young
receptionist that I was being transformed into a female image because my
penis was too small to satisfy her.
April was extremely competent and, next to me, the most powerful employee
in the firm. Unfortunately, she knew it, and for years, she had treated me
arrogance and something bordering on contempt. Running into her like this
wouldn't help! Upon hearing her call my name, the other five women in the
room looked up, and one of them failed to suppress a laugh.
"What all are you having done?" asked April. "And why are you dressed like
that?"
"It's just something Laney wanted me to do," I said, hoping that would be
the end of it, knowing it wouldn't. "Hair and nails, I think," I said.
"Actually, that comes later," said an attractive brunette who had just
walked in. "First, Mr. Powers is getting his waxing done." She held out
her hand to shake. "I'm Cecile, and I'll be doing your waxing."
I shook her hand and mumbled, "Pleased to meet you.
"Oh really?" said April. "What's he having waxed?"
"Pretty much everything if I'm reading this right. It calls from a
Brazilian," she said. "We're going to be together for a while!"
We went past another dozen women and service providers on the way to the
waxing area. As she shut the door, I asked, "Why did you have to tell
everybody in the room?"
She looked puzzled. "We're pretty open here, and anyway, your wife told
Deanna to treat you like one of the girls ... or whatever. Now, if you
don't mind, I need you to take off all your clothes and lie face down on
the table."
I complied as she turned away to cut some cloth strips and check the
temperature of the pot of wax. "The good news," she said when she turned
back around, is that this won't be as painful for you as it could. I don't
think I've ever seen a man with so little body hair. Have you been waxed
before?"
"No."
She clucked. "Well, maybe it's a low testosterone thing. Anyway, let's get
started." Beginning at my neck, she worked her way down, smearing the hot
wax, pressing cloth strips on it and ripping it away. The back wasn't so
bad, but it hurt like hell when she ripped out the hair in my ass crack
and underarms.
"Do you have to do that?"
"Oh yes! A Brazilian means no hair. Period!" After a while she reached my
feet. "Now flip over," she said.
When I did so, her jaw dropped. "Well, at least Mrs. Powers didn't
exaggerate," was all she said. I knew what she meant but didn't want to
bring it out in the open, so I let it go. She paused for a moment.
"What is it?"
"Mrs. Powers asked us to document each stage of your makeover. I'd better
ask." She reached over and pressed the intercom button. "You there,
Deanna?"
"Yep," said the 16-year-old receptionist. My wife, Laney, had instructed
me in no uncertain terms to do exactly as Deanna said. If I didn't, Laney
would exercise her rights as 51% stockholder of my company and fire me as
president and CEO. I hoped that the intercom couldn't be heard throughout
the spa.
"Do you think Mrs. Powers intended for us to take before-and-after photos
of Mr. Powers' Brazilian wax?" Cecile asked.
"I'm not sure. Will it be a very dramatic difference?"
"Not too much. He really doesn't have much body hair, even around his
bikini area."
"I'd better call Mrs. Powers to be sure. At any rate, I forgot to give you
the camera. I'll send it in just in case," said Deanna. Moments later,
there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," said Cecile. It was a woman I hadn't seen before.
"Here's the camera. Mrs. Powers said we can skip on the Brazilian
before/after but she wants to make sure we get the brow wax," she said.
"Oh, wow," she said when she saw me.
"What is it?" I said.
"Nothing. Not much anyway," she said, and prompting a snicker from
Cecilia. "We need to meet anyway. I'm Angie, and I'll be doing the brows
and makeup. We'll do the brows as soon as you're done in here, and the
skin can be settling down while you get your nails done. At any rate, we
always try to do the makeup last because it's easiest to mess up," she
said. "I did Mrs. Powers' makeup yesterday. Was she sizzling or what?"
"Beautiful," I said.
"Yes," said Cecile. "I waxed her pussy. She seemed to be planning on
putting it to good use last night. Did her plans work out?"
I tried to manage a smile. "Yep."
"Wonderful! I convinced her to keep it bare from here on," said Cecile.
"A lot of men prefer sex with a woman who's been waxed. Have you ever
tried it?"
I paused, noting that while Cecile knew Laney was having sex the previous
night, she did not seem to be assuming it would be with me. How much had
Laney told her?
Angie interrupted my thoughts. "Well, call me when you're done, Cecile,
and I'll come get him to do the brows. The body waxing doesn't look like
it's going to take too long."
"Nope. Not maybe 20 minutes tops. I've already done the back side and
underarms. He won't have to worry about showing skin when he goes shopping
this afternoon for some pretty tops and dresses," said Cecile. She went
back to work as Angie left.
I am taking it for granted that the reader understands that this waxing
hurt a great deal! Hot wax was being spread across my skin, and hair was
ripped out by the roots over and over again. The underarms were especially
painful. Now, as Cecile was coming to my genital hair, I mustered the
courage to ask:
"May I ask you an honest question?"
"Sure," she said. Just then, there was another knock at the door. "But
it'll have to hold a minute. Come in!" Deanna strolled in with a woman I
hadn't met.
"Mind if we chat with Mr. Powers a sec?" she asked Cecile.
"Perfect timing, actually. I need to get some more rubber gloves. You two
keep him company while I grab some," said Cecile.
As she walked out, Deanna and the other woman walked up next to the table.
"I wanted to introduce you to Brenda, who will be your nail tech."
"Hi, Brenda," I said, reaching out to shake hands. Brenda was a thin,
forty-something lady with red hair.
"Hope you didn't mind our coming in," said Brenda. Then she noted that as
she and Deanna had come in, my penis had grown stiff. "I'm going to take
that as an indication that you don't mind," she said. Deanna smirked.
"I wanted to take a look at your nails to see what we're going to need to
do," said Brenda. She picked up one of my hands and examined the fingers.
"They're in bad shape, but I can work with them. I was afraid we would
have to put acrylics on you, but I only do that as a last resort. I'll be
doing your fingers and your toes."
"Thanks," was all I could manage. Then Deanna produced a manila folder. "I
nearly forgot to have you fill out the standard forms we get everybody to
do. I got all the information from Mrs. Powers, so they're already filled
out. Can you just sign them?"
I flipped through the pages and signed wherever there was a sticker
indicating I needed to do so. Cecile walked back in just as I was signing
the last page.
"Okay, ladies. Unless you want to help with the waxing, I need to get back
to work," she said.
"No problem," said Brenda. "We're done. Just send him around when he's
ready." She and Deanna left.
Cecile moved my hard penis to one side and smeared the other with hot wax.
"Wow, you seem to be enjoying this! Well, I don't really blame you. It's
acting like it hasn't been touched by a female in a while," she said.
"Now, you were about to ask me something."
"I forgot. Must not have been important," I lied. In truth, I was dying to
ask her whether Laney had told her she was going to be fucking another man
last night.
"Well, if you remember, just ask. Anyway, as I was saying, Mrs. Powers was
really excited yesterday. I'm glad to hear that she got the ... uh ...
attention she was hoping for," said Cecile. With that, we lapsed into an
awkward silence until she finally announced, "OK, you're done! You can hop
up now. Put on that terry robe and your heels and go back out to the
service waiting area, and I'll tell Angie you're ready."
I thanked her, put on the robe and struggled with my heels until I was
able to get them on and return to the waiting room. I was relieved to see
that April wasn't there, and Angie arrived before I had a chance to sit
down.
"Come on, let's get those brows," she said. "We do those in the front of
the shop. Follow me." She positioned me on a stool a few feet from
Deanna's receptionist station. The eyebrows went quickly, and I heard the
intercom go off just as Angie was finishing up.
"Is Mr. Powers ready to start his nails?" I recognized the voice as
Brenda's. Deanna looked at Angie for confirmation, and Angie nodded. "Yep.
Want us to bring him back?"
"That'd be great if you don't mind."
When we walked into nail area, I was chagrined to see that it was large
and crowded, with tables positioned side by side so that all the clients
could see and hear each other. There would be no privacy or escape. To
make matters worse, the first person I saw was April, my firm's
overbearing personnel director.
"Hey boss! I was hoping I'd see you again. How'd your Brazilian go? I bet
it hurt around your little peepee!" She emphasized the word "little."
"A little uncomfortable, but not too bad," I said.
"Oh, I'm being impolite. Let me introduce you around. Everybody, this is
Mike Powers, president of Powers Design, where I work." She went down the
row calling out all the names. "I guess you should get to know all the
other ladies, since we're all here every week." The line got an uneasy
laugh from about half the women.
"Good to meet you officially," said the manicurist sitting next to Brenda,
who introduced herself as Rita. "I do hair too. In fact, I'll be doing
yours after your pedicure. I was just thinking of what kind of color would
look good on you."
"Good to meet you all, though I probably won't run into you here
regularly," I said.
"Actually, you will," said Brenda. You have a standing appointment for
this time every week, so you may as well get acquainted. Oh, before we get
started, I need to get a photo of your nails for the before-and-after."
She took several photos, then handed the camera to Rita. "Let's get a
photo of him here at the station," she said.
Rita, took two photos.
"So seriously Mr. Powers," April asked, "tell us why you're here."
"Um, it's just something my wife, Laney, wanted me to do."
"Why?" asked April.
"You'd have to ask her that."
"Good idea. I have her number right here and we're friends!" She typed a
message, reading it out loud word by word: "Hi Laney. Why is your hubby
getting made over like a woman?"
Momentarily, the message ding went off. "Are you sure you want to know? I
don't want to offend you." She read Laney's message out loud. This was not
going well.
April texted back, as Brenda began filing my nails. "Silly woman! How long
have we known each other? Spill it!" As before, she read the message out
loud before hitting the "send" button. All the conversations up and down
the row of tables had gone quiet as everyone waited for the answer.
"Ding."
April looked into her phone and smirked. She showed it to Brenda, who
squealed. "OH ... MY ... GOD!!!!"
"What?" asked Brenda.
Rita held the phone up so I could see it. "Is this YOU, Mr. Powers?" The
photo showed my erect penis next to a ruler, clearly showing that it was
three and a quarter inches. My wife had taken it the night before, and it
was framed by the red garterbelt I had been wearing at the time.
For a moment, I considered denying it, but the phone dinged again. "Yep,
that's you!" she said, turning the phone back toward me, showing the full
shot that included my face. All the women burst out laughing.
The closeup had a message from Laney: "Can you believe this is all he has?
Not much of a man, so decided to see how he works as a woman."
"I always kinda thought he had short-man complex," said April, my
personnel director. "I just wasn't sure what was causing it!" The women
were helpless with laughter.
Brenda stopped working for a moment and picked up her own phone. "I want
that too!" she said. "I'm asking her for it." Like April, she read out
loud as she typed: "Can I have a copy? Is it secret or ok to share?"
Seconds later, she read the reply. "We have no secrets." The receptionist,
Deanna, had just appeared to show in Rita's next client. She had overheard
the conversation.
"Tell Mrs. Powers to send it to me so I'll have it on the desktop in the
front. That way, I can email it easily to whoever wants it," Deanna said.
"I want it!" said Rita. "Who else does?" All of the manicurists, and about
four of the clients, raised their hands. Deanna scribbled their names on
her pad and disappeared. Brenda resumed working on my nails and the
attention shifted away from me, to my relief. About five minutes later,
phones up and down the table began dinging. Rita checked hers first.
"Hey, she sent them both - the one with the ruler and the one showing your
face!" she said. "I guess you really don't have any secrets!"
"Apparently not," I mumbled.
"I'd love to post that on Facebook, but it'd obviously violate their
policies," said Rita.
"That would, but this wouldn't," said Brenda, holding up the camera with
the photo she had just taken of me getting my nails done. She hit the
intercom button. "Deanna, can you stick your head in when you're on the
way through?"
"Sure," came the reply. It didn't take long before Deanna reappeared.
"Brenda turned the camera around so that Deanna could see the picture of
me getting my nails done. "Is there any reason we can't put this on our
Facebook page?"
"Absolutely not. Mr. and Mrs. Powers both signed releases allowing us to
use his image however we like. I'll post it and tag Mr. and Mrs. Powers so
that all their friends will be sure and see it," said Deanna. I realized
that must have been in the papers I signed without reading them.
"Great!" said Brenda. "Go ahead and say in the cutline that we'll soon be
posting images after he gets his hair and makeup done. I imagine we can
get some of him in his new dresses later after he's done shopping too!"
"I'll have it up in five minutes." Deanna took the camera and disappeared.
Brenda, meanwhile, had painted my nails a bold mauve. "It's called Java
Mauve," she explained. "I'm using a gel polish that can't be removed
except with special chemicals, so you won't have to worry about it
chipping. "Mrs. Powers said to use something that was bold and feminine -
not something that Gothic men are wearing."
Deanna had just returned with the camera. "It's up, and we already have
four likes and two comments! I created an album called "Mike Powers," so
we can post everything there. Of course, anybody can "like" a photo and
share it with all their Facebook friends." She noticed my polished nails.
"Ooh, perfect timing! Hold your hands up next to your face." I did so and
she snapped another photo. "I'll go ahead and post this. Be right back."
A few minutes later, Brenda was finishing up, and April had just removed
her nails from the dryer. She checked her iPhone. "Oh look, the one
showing the nails is up! There! Sharing is SO easy!"
"You've been doing Facebook from the very beginning, haven't you, April?
How many Facebook friends do you have?" someone asked.
"About 1,200, including most of the Powers Design employees, members of
the Chamber of Commerce and just people I know around town. I even have
Daria Henley on my list. And they'll all see these!" said April.
"Daria Henley? The Channel 4 anchorwoman?"
"Yep."
"Well," said Rita. "I guess no secrets means no secrets."
"It does now!" said April. "Oh, wait! I manage the company's Facebook page
too!" She tapped her screen a few more times. "There! Now it's in the feed
for Powers Design!"
Finally, we moved over to the pedicure area, where there was a lot more
privacy. Brenda painted my toes the same color as my fingernails and took
the obligatory "before and after" photos. An hour later, I was ushered
into the hair area, where Rita was waiting for me. If anything, it was
even more crowded than the nail area, though there was more space between
stations.
As we were about to get started, I saw Laney's reflection in the mirror.
She was dressed conservatively for her these days, in tight jeans and a
low-cut tank top. Her makeup was dramatic, as usual.
"I just wanted to check on you," she said breezily. "Oh, the nail polish
is perfect! What are we going to do with his hair, Rita?"
"His hair's long enough that we can do anything we want to with it. I was
thinking I'd dye him a dark blonde and add some lighter blonde streaks.
How long do you want it?"
Laney patted her manicured finger to her lips thoughtfully. "What are your
thoughts?"
"If we leave it long, I can put some layers in it, but it may not be that
big of a change. If you want some serious drama, I could do a loose spiral
perm and cut it about shoulder length in lots of different layers. Of
course, he wouldn't be able to pull it back very well," she said.
"Perfect! Let's do that!" Laney said. "Well, I'd best be going now. Mike,
I also brought you a little something to wear for your shopping trip. It's
a lot nicer than the jeans you wore this morning." She removed the bag
covering the hanger to reveal a ruffly pink dress with a hem that flared
out. "I didn't bring any panties, and it's very short and loose around the
hem, so be careful - and stay out of the breeze!"
All work in the hair area had stopped while she showed off the address.
Laney was enjoying the attention.
"At least from what I've seen, he doesn't hang down too far," said Rita,
winking.
"No, it's kinda sad, isn't it? Now you know why I'm having to make some
changes in both of our lives," said Laney. She turned back to me.
"Speaking of which, I'm entertaining a guest this evening, and you'll be
going home with Sandra for a while after your shopping trip. I gather
everybody around here has figured out why at this point," she said.
"Seems a safe assumption," said Rita. "Don't worry. When I'm done with
him, there won't be a trace of male left in his hair. And I feel sure when
Angie is done with his makeup, there won't be a trace left in his face
either!"
"It really means a lot to me that you don't judge me," said Laney.
"Judge you? I applaud you for getting what you need. You go girl!" said
Rita.
Laney turned back to me and said, "see you later, pretty girl!"
I spent the next two hours getting my hair colored, highlighted and
permed. "It's really generous of you to let Mrs. Powers have ... company.
Women have needs, you know, and I hate to tell you this, but size DOES
matter," Rita said.
"It wasn't really my idea," I said. "Neither was all this."
"Can I give you some advice?" she asked. "You'll come off looking a lot
better if you pretend it is. That way people see you as generous and
adventurous instead of as a weak victim. Just think about it."
Finally, my hair was dry and she turned me so that I could see myself in
the mirror. I literally didn't recognized myself. My full, curly blonde
hair framed my face in delicate spirals. "Time to get you in that little
dress and take you out front for your makeup. You're almost ready to face
the public," said Rita, snapping the obligatory photos.
"Aren't you going to post those?" someone asked.
"Not yet," said Rita. "In a few minutes we'll have him made up and wearing
that little dress, and we'll introduce the new Mike Powers to the world
then!"
The dress was much shorter than it looked, and the hem flared out in a way
that revealed even more. With no underwear, I was afraid I might poke out.
Despite that, I realized that I had a strong erection. Angie showed up and
said, "Wow! Let's go finish this job!"
I followed her toward the front, wobbling in my heels. On the way, she
stepped back into manicuring area and had me twirl for the nail techs.
Finally, we went to the front, where the makeup stand was located. April,
my company's personnel director, was just settling up her bill.
"Well well! Look at the boss man now!" she said and I sat up on the stool.
She pulled out her iPhone and took a photo. "Look at that!" she said. "His
weewee was sticking out. You can see it in the picture. Guess I can't post
THAT on Facebook!"
"No, but you can send it to me," said Angie. "And me," added Deanna from
the front counter.
Mercifully, April finally left, and Angie went to work on my makeup. "This
actually won't take too long, because I've already decided what to do. The
foundation will be heavy, but we're just using light eyeliner. I want to
keep it fresh and feminine, not harsh and draggy."
When she let me look in the mirror, I couldn't help being impressed. It
was indeed dramatic, but none of the colors called attention to
themselves. "The lips are similar to the mauve on your nails, but just a
bit lighter." She began pulling the products off the shelves and putting
them into a bag.
"You can play with the colors a bit over the weekend, but on Monday,
you're coming in for a lesson so you can do this for yourself. But for
now, you're done," she said. "Now stand up!"
After a half hour of trying to sit on the stool in the short dress without
exposing myself any further, I was relieved to stand up. Angie took about
a dozen photos - some up close, and some full-length showing off the
dress. She handed the camera to Deanna. "Want to transfer these to the
desktop where you can put them on the Facebook page?" she asked the
receptionist.
"Absolutely. There. Already done! I'm posting a couple of closeups and a
full length," she said.
Deanna turned to me. "Sweetie, we're done with you for now. I called
Sandra, and she's on her way to pick you up. Just sit over there on the
couch until she gets here," she said. She turned back to the computer and
resumed uploading the photos.
It was another 15 minutes or so until Sandra arrived. As she walked in the
front door, she said loudly, "I'm ready to take Mike Powers shopping. Is
he ready?"
Deanna pointed to me on the couch. Sandra introduced herself and sat next
to me, talking about all the pretty heels and dresses I was going to buy -
all while a lady I didn't know sat across from us hearing every word.
Finally, we got up to leave, and as we left, Deanna said excitedly.
"Oh look, Mr. Powers! You've gone viral. That shot of you in the dress has
121 comments and 284 likes!"
Suddenly, shopping for dresses in the department store seemed like a
relief from all the publicity, but I would soon learn that I was wrong!
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