The Mrs Hollingsworth Project Part 9
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The 'Mrs. Hollingsworth' Project (part 1) free porn video
"The 'Mrs. Hollingsworth' Project"
"Of course I'll be staying on for the wedding, I wouldn't miss that
Tiffany dear!" Ms. Lawrence said with a smile as she stood behind me as
I sat at my large vanity in my feminine boudoir of a bedroom inspecting
my makeup and putting the finishing touches on my hairdo, getting the
curls combed, arranged then hair sprayed tight. She seemed pleased, the
nice lady that had been as constant as my shadow for the past two and a
half years. They didn't make women like Ms. Lawrence anymore. Her name
was Grace but with the class and feminine deportment with which she
carried herself calling her "Grace" just wasn't enough. She was known
to everyone at the estate simply as "Ms. Lawrence." A kindly woman in
her mid fifties who looked much more severe than she really was with her
horned rimmed glasses hooked to a shiny silver chain that went around
her neck and with her hair pulled into a tight bun. Her slightly gray
hair always combed to perfection, without a hair out of place and her
makeup done in vintage style was always done to perfection too. And you
never saw a run in any of her stockings, ever! It was after all a
lifestyle for her, she had run a charm school for proper upscale ladies
for years and was in semi-retirement when she'd been summoned by Rick to
work with me. It was a most unusual job offer but with proper financial
consideration she soon moved in.
A knock came at the door. Ms. Lawrence turned on her high stiletto
heels and minced across the room, her nylons zipping, "shick-shick-
shick" her satin lined black wool skirt formed to her buxom curveatious
frame whispering as she wiggled along, her large bust jiggling under her
long sleeved, bow tie blue satin blouse. She opened the door, her long
gloss red nails evident as she turned the knob to greet two women who
were part of the staff. She noticed the boxes and plastic bags. "Once
you've finished take everything to the trash, we won't be needing it
anymore" she said then ushered them into the room where they quickly
moved to the large walk-in closet, opened the wide white double doors
and went inside. As Ms. Lawrence returned to me I could hear the ladies
in the closet busy gathering things, filling the boxes and bags.
"I'd like to go through some of those magazines and brochures with you
this afternoon dear," she said as she stood nearby as I finished
preening my hair and makeup and smoothing my dress.
"So soon?" I spoke with a bit of surprise.
"Well, the wedding is only three months away. You have to pick out a
gown, it has to be made and then you'll have to have several fittings.
All that will take time you know," she said as a matter of fact. "Are
you coming down for breakfast dear?"
"N...no. I'd like a little time to think, to be alone. I think I'll
spend the morning by myself," I added.
"We'll look over those brochures this afternoon at tea then?" she said
with a smile but with the characteristic note of authority in her voice
that long ago I'd learned to obey.
"Yes, yes that will be fine Ms. Lawrence," I replied.
The ladies working in the closet soon appeared with boxes filled and
large garbage bags brimming as they carried them off. Ms. Lawrence
followed them out of the room her nylons swishing, her perfume following
with her as she closed the large white door behind her leaving me alone
in the large feminine boudoir.
Normally I'd have gone down to breakfast to start my day as the pampered
lady-of-the-house, but with an upcoming wedding and all the details
swirling in my head I felt a bit dizzy and felt my stomach begin to
tighten. I felt like laying down for a bit. I got up from the vanity,
switched the lights at the mirror off then minced to the closet for a
satin padded hangar. I unzipped my dress and hung it up so it wouldn't
get wrinkled then took a long white satin dressing gown from another
hangar and slipped into it. As I looked around the closet I noticed
that the ladies had done a through job. The three men's suits, and
dress shirts were gone, as were the two pair of wingtip shoes. My
tennis shoes and two pair of street shoes were gone along with all my
shirts, T-shirts, several pairs of blue jeans, three baseball caps and
all my ties and belts. My baseball bat and favorite glove, gone. Even
a small trophy I'd won years ago in a golf match was now gone, along
with a diploma and a couple other awards and knick-knacks I'd collected
over the years, all gone now. Because the clothing didn't fit my new
lifestyle, and the awards? Well they were made out to a Tim DuBois a
name that was now only a fading memory. With Richard's money, power and
connections and with the constant attentions of the ever present Ms.
Lawrence, Tim was history, Tiffany had taken his place. I was now
permanently and quite inescapably feminized! I was Ms. Tiffany, soon to
be Mrs. Richard Hollingsworth!
I looked at the full length mirror at the far end of the walk-in closet
past the rows of high heeled women's shoes, past the rows of dresses,
blouses and gowns to see the woman that looked back at me now. Standing
there fully dressed in lingerie wearing a full length white satin robe
open at the front. I could see the curves, the trim waistline, the wide
womanly hips and the very real breasts that now brimmed at the cups of
my white lace trimmed nylon brassiere under the matching full slip. Ms.
Lawrence's work on my hair was perfect as usual, curled and styled to
vintage feminine perfection, my makeup was flawless, the long lashes,
the eyeshadow, the blusher, the diamond stud earrings in my now pierced
ears and the pearl necklace clasped around my smooth, perfumed and
powdered neck. The gloss red lipstick matched my expensive porcelain
nail extensions and that color included my pedicure, the gloss red
clearly evident even through the sheer nylon stockings at the toes of my
open toed sling back five inch stiletto heeled pumps! The floral
perfume hung in the air around me!
My head spun, my ears began to ring and I felt the knot at my stomach
begin to twist as I gathered the robe around me and left the closet. I
switched the room lights off and switched my little night table lamp on,
the light shining through the pale pink shade trimmed with feminine lace
then pulled the heavy satin drapes closed. I could feel the slip
sliding over the strict foundation garments, the tight long legged panty
girdle and the full cupped brassiere. Thankfully, instead of a corset
today Ms. Lawrence allowed me a simple white front hooked waist cincher.
I could feel the wiggle in my steps and the jiggle now too as I minced
to the bed on the high stiletto heels, the nylons whispering their
familiar "shick-shick-shick" all the way across the room!
I slipped out of the robe and laid it across the padded bench at the
foot of the lace frilled four poster bed then sat on the edge of the bed
and slipped off my shoes. I gathered the lace trimmed quilt at the base
of the bed then pulled it up around me as I laid back on the cool pink
satin comforter bed spread waiting for my confused thoughts to clear.
I'm Tim Benson, male, 25 years old. I live in a small one bedroom
apartment, drive an old rattle-trap of a car and work for an overbearing
boss at just above minimum wage as head stock-boy and assistant manager
for a large local hardware store. I do enjoy the overtime pay but
there's no holiday pay, no dental, no 401k, no retirement plan. It's a
kind of eat-as-you-go plan. I'm stuck, going nowhere fast but still, I
have hopes of better days to come.
But, here I am now, dressed completely from head to toe and from the
skin out like June Cleaver or Donna Reed, in my huge feminine boudoir of
a bedroom in a ten million dollar mansion! My confused thoughts
continue to swirl in my mind. I think of Tim, but it's hard to conjure
those thoughts and getting harder to all the time. It might be the
"training" partly, but I think it's those twice monthly injections and
that pink pill that Ms. Lawrence hands me every morning and then watches
with satisfaction as I take one each and every day. I can feel the
estrogen, the female hormones flowing through my veins, through my brain
working on my thoughts, softening them, changing them, forcing my mind-
right, forcing me to conform to my new shape, my new and soon to be
quite permanent identity! The confusion tires me, I begin to drift, as
I try to think, to replay the past two and a half years of my life, to
make sense of things. Then I remember the Halloween party again!
Yeah, that's where it all started. They say a man can change his
destiny by missing a bus or making one choice instead of another. I was
living alone, bored, and an old college friend had called to tell me of
some big Halloween costume party that was happening downtown in one of
those swanky clubs the following weekend. He said he could get tickets,
he wanted to get together with a few of the guys and maybe some dates
and we'd hit the town in style With little else to do and with that
weekend off I took him up on his offer. That wasn't the night I met
Richard, Mr. Hollingsworth. But it was the night he met me! I finally
got drowsy enough to drift into a troubled sleep.
"You're quite the lady Timmy!" The girl giggled as she grabbed at the
hem of my vintage house dress and swished it up. "Weeee!" All the
girls giggled to see the white nylon chiffon lace edged petticoat swirl
into view followed by the tops of my vintage, beige seamed nylon hose
held taut at the welt by satin ribboned metal garter tabs! The guys
blushed a little then gave me the look that maybe I'd done too good a
job in looking like a 1950's housewife! The girls teased more, figuring
that under that dress was a pair of "tightie-whitey 'Y' fronts" and over
them some cheap dime store scratchy mesh pantyhose. But that wasn't the
case. I'd worn it all! And the shoes! I could have gotten some cheap
flats in my size at a thrift shop but these were gleaming black patent
leather pumps, with five inch stiletto heels! I soon realized that this
too, was another mistake!
I'd had plenty of practice with my clandestine hobby. Even the feminine
mannerisms I brought to the party in addition to the female wardrobe,
but it was far too convincing, and it didn't help that I was only a
little over five-foot-six and maybe 130 pounds. Yeah, with the spirit
of the evening, the flowing champaign and everything I'd dropped my
guard and brought my "alter ego" to the party instead of myself. I'd
done too good a job with my Halloween costume! The only hope now was
damage control.
I bluffed my way around the laughs and guffaws and the "sissy" remarks.
I wanted to "get-into-character" and if you're going to wear a costume
you might as well "Do-it-right!" I added. But then they started a
closer inspection. The makeup was a bit too-well-applied, and they
noticed the glamor length false nails painted a vintage gloss red, and
they noticed the pearl necklace. "Are those pierced earrings?" The
girls cackled. "No!" I replied. The wig I wore also looked real! The
only thing that helped divert attention to me was the flow of champaign,
the crowd and the loud band on the stage! But the night was over for
me. I bought the last round by writing a check then after thanking my
old college buddy for the invite I finished my drink then got up from
the table, grabbed my purse then minced out of the lounge on those
patent leather heels! I stood in front of the building in the cold fall
night trying to hail a cab. One finally pulled up. I got in and we
rolled away into the night. But back in the bar looking on through the
window and out into the breezy night from a barstool with drink in hand,
Mr. Hollingsworth had already taken notice!
He was at the end of a long work day and had left his office suite far
upstairs in the large downtown sky scraper he just happened to own and
decided to have a nightcap at the bar before calling his chauffeur for
his ride home for the night. The fact that it was Halloween hadn't
dawned on him. But in retrospect it was a surprising coincidence!
He'd seen the crowd and heard the loud band and had seen the little
tussle at the table when the girls teased that other "girl" at the table
who had come as a 50's housewife. He'd been glancing over trying not to
be obvious. Glancing over to notice those incredible black stiletto
pumps with the five inch heels and how they shined like black diamonds
in the room light. He noticed the seamed stockings too and how they
shined, and he got a real show to see they were real vintage stockings
when the dress was swished up to Tim's gasping, red-faced embarrassment.
And how he'd seen the delicate lace trimmed layers of the white nylon
chiffon petticoat and the tight garter straps holding the shiny beige
hose tight on those long, smooth shapely legs! He also noticed the
frantic effort to swish the dress back down, the feminine embarrassment,
the limp wristed movement to quickly swish the dress and slips back
down and then just for a moment seeing Tim drop out of character as he
started his explanation, trying to "macho" up to get past the questions
now circling him like vultures!
And he'd watched the mincing wiggle, noticed the trim waist and how the
floral patterned full skirt of the rayon dress fluffed out and rustled
and shined in the light as what was obviously a man in a dress as he
walked past where Mr. Hollingsworth was sitting at the bar, the faint
trail of floral perfume lingering even as Tim stood outside hailing his
cab!
Who was this creature? This person, this man going out dressed as he
was!? Who was this man that was dressing with such obvious style and
class, like women, REAL women used to dress!? Mr. Hollingsworth was a
very, very wealthy and powerful man, a man in his early 50's a man who
well remembered how women used to dress, used to act and used to move in
such vintage fashions. It brought age old memories back, his ideas of
what a real woman should be like. The sight was incredible, mesmerizing
to him.
With his great business acumen an idea, a plan of sorts was quickly
beginning to take shape. He didn't know this person but he had to find
out who this person was! And he had to act before it was too late,
before this nameless, faceless, anonymous person faded and disappeared
into the multitude of others in the crowded city!
He thought for a moment then turned his chair back to the bar, put his
arms over the rail and waved the bartender over.
The busy bartender wiping a glass leaned over the bar to hear the words
over the crowd and the band. "You took a check a while back, a blue
check!?" Mr. Hollingsworth hollered over the bar.
"We take a lot of checks Mr. Hollingsworth!" he said as he put the glass
on the rail and began setting up another round of drinks.
"It was a blue check, from that table, that table right over there! Not
more than fifteen minutes ago!" he said pointing to the still giggling
girls and the guys now moving in, the thoughts of Tim leaving early now
gone from their minds.
"What about it!?" the bartender shot back.
"I just want to see that check!" he replied.
"I can't do that! Once it goes in the till that's it. We can't give
out any personal information," the bartender went on.
Mr. Hollingsworth took a crisp 100 dollar bill out and slapped it on the
table. "I'll buy it then!"
"What if it's for more than a hundred!?" the bartender returned.
"I'll match it and you still keep this hundred!" came the reply.
The bartender nodded then turned and rummaged through the till and
returned with a handful of checks. He sifted through the top ones until
a blue check appeared. He pulled it out from the bunch and looked at
it. "It's only $26.50!"
"Alright, you sell me that check for $26.50 and you keep the change!"
Mr. Hollingsworth finished.
"Is that legal!?" The barkeep chuckled with luck at his quick and large
tip!
"Well, your till will still balance. I don't see a problem. Do you?"
Mr. Hollingsworth said looking on with all the seriousness of a world
class poker player not caring about Tim's check book balance.
The bartender slid the blue check across the bar and took the hundred
dollar bill and the handful of other checks back to the till. As the
bartender quickly deducted his "tip" Mr. Hollingsworth noted the name
and address on the heading of the check. "Tim Benson, 1156, 58th ave.
south. Hillager apartments #565." He smiled as he reached into his
pocket, flipped open his cell phone and punched the button to summon his
driver. He looked at the check again memorizing the name and address
then folded it and put it in his suit coat pocket!
Mr. Hollingsworth reached the curb just as the long black limo pulled
up. He got into the back seat and closed the door. The limo then drove
off into the night as the party at the exclusive lounge went on.
India
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