picnic x ish
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Sleeping Beauty-ish free porn video
Sleeping Beauty-ish
By Shawna Stimple
"Damn!" Eugene Wilson exclaimed as he ran down the street, trying to find
anywhere that would cut his hair. It was Christmas break, nineteen sixty
five, and his mother decided it was the perfect time for family photos.
His sister would be home from college, and it was the first time that
they had seen her since she had left. Mrs. Wilson thought that it would
be the perfect occasion for a photo, helping them to remember that time
in their lives.
Eugene's mother had bribed him, with a new guitar, and lessons, if he had
his hair cut in time for the photo. He's hadn't had it cut in months, and
it fell to his shoulders, in unkempt uneven lengths. He had
procrastinated for too long, and the photo was today. He had 4 hours, to
get his haircut, and get back home. For a fifteen year old, without a
car, it wasn't easy.
The first storefront he'd passed with a pair of scissors on the window,
he entered. It was a small one room shop, with pastel pink wall paper,
and furniture. A small desk sat next to two chairs and vanities, filling
the space between the front and back walls. Opposite the Chairs was a
singular wash sink. Eugene examined the young blond woman with a simple
high ponytail tied back by a blue bow, wearing a smock, sitting in the
first chair, thumbing through a magazine.
He quickly got her attention, by loudly clearing his throat, and said, "I
desperately need a haircut."
"This is a womens salon. Sorry sweetie, but you're going to half to go
someplace else," the woman said, before returning to her magazine.
Eugene was a good kid, but his outlook on the world was a little skewed
from growing up so privileged. "Can't you make an exception. You must
really need money. Why else would you work in such a tiny shop? You're
husband must really need the help."
The woman looked back up from her magazine with a glint of rage in her
eye."For your information, I'm not married. I have such a small shop,
because with what my clients pay me, I don't need but five a week. You
just happened to show up, on a day I had a cancellation, who rescheduled
for this evening. I do happen to have a few hours free, so if you'd like
I can fit you in."
"Sure. Whatever you want to tell me. Let's just get this over with. I've
only got two hours, and I have to get back to my parents," Eugene said,
as he strode past, and sat down next to her.
She couldn't believe the nerve of this little shit. He hadn't believed a
word she'd said. "What a pompous little asshole," she thought to herself.
"If he wants a haircut, he'll get one."
"Go through this and tell me which one you want," she said, handing him
the magazine.
As he flipped through the magazine, he failed to notice every picture was
of women with hair styled in several different variations. Finally he
came upon an advertisement, with a picture of a young wife scolding her
husband and the dog. "I guess this," he said, pointing to the picture of
the first man he'd seen. She scanned the wife's style, taking in every
detail.
"I can't cut your hair, while it's this greasy. I'll need to wash it
first," she said, as she draped her pink apron over his shoulders. She
took him by the hand, and walked him the few feet to the sink, and had
him lay back, while she warmed up the water. She shampooed his hair, and
once she was finished, she noticed he had fallen asleep.
When Eugene was a small boy, he would be too afraid to sleep, so his
sister would play with his hair, until he was falling asleep sitting up.
She would then guide the young zombie to his bedroom where he would stay
for the rest of the night. Even though he's unaware of it, whenever a
female plays with his hair, he falls asleep. The woman didn't know what
the reason was, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"He's making it too easy" she thought to herself, as she quickly began a
deep conditioning treatment on his hair. It was 20 minutes later that she
woke Eugene, and led him sleepily over to the stylist chair. He sat down
yawning, while she reached for her scissors. Within seconds he fell
asleep sitting upright, perfectly still. She was too amazed. There was no
need for distraction, and she no longer needed to come up with an excuse
to cover the mirror, let alone come up with an explanation for the
curlers.
She quickly began trimming his hair up to his neck. Then she evened the
ends perfectly, before trimming side swept bangs just over his eyebrows.
Next she coated his hair in setting lotion, and put curlers in all of
his locks, with the top and front rolled under, and and back and sides
rolled outwards. After she placed a bonnet dryer over his curlers, he
finally slumped back in the chair, and started snoring.
She woke him for a moment after she removed the dryer, but as soon as she
removed the first curler, he was comatose once again. Once the rollers
were removed she brushed out all of the curl, before spending the next
ten minutes spraying, and teasing the hair into her desired creation.
Once she was finished she stood back, and praised herself for her handy
work. After taking in the complete image, she realized she could do just
a little more. She left everything to chance, and started on his
eyebrows, with a nearby pair of tweezers, with nothing but the hope he
wouldn't wake up. Sure enough, he slept through the entire process, only
making slight faces of discomfort, until his brows were delicate feminine
arches.
She covered his new do in a final coating of extra hold spray, before
removing the apron, and jostling him back into consciousness. As he
regained his bearings, he glanced towards the mirror. One look told him
his hair was styled into a bouffant with his hair sweeping from one side
to the other over his newly thinned eyebrows, down to his jawline, where
it curled outward in one smooth flip all the way around. "What the hell
did you do to me?!" he screamed as he looked closer into the mirror.
The woman answered with a sly grin. "I can see that you're not satisfied.
As I am a professional, I will not charge you. I would have stopped if
you'd asked me to, but you slept through the entire process. You should
probably have that checked out. However I have no interest in trying
again. As you have not taken the time to learn my name, I assume you have
the same interest in me that I do in you. Anyway my next appointment
should be arriving soon, so I'm going to have to asked you to leave."
Eugene just watched, mouth hung open, as the woman reached into the
nearby closet and pulled out a few garments, before grabbing him by the
arm, and leading him to the door. "I have these just in case the
impossible happens, and one of my clients isn't satisfied, and wants to
leave incognito," She quickly threw the coat over his shoulders, and
shoved the hat on his head, before shoving him out the door, and locking
it behind her.
As he looked in the reflection of the store window, Eugene noticed he was
wearing a purple paisley pea coat, with a high collar, and matching
cloche hat, with a brown ribbon around the small brim tied in a bow. He
looked around nervously, and was thankful to notice he was alone on the
street. He quickly slipped his arms through the sleeves, and then
fastened the coat, doing his best to hide his face behind the collar.
As he rushed home, he prayed no one would take any notice of him. It
seemed like eternity before he saw his front porch off in the distance.
The final leg of the journey was done in a sprint, as he ran through his
front door, and slamming it behind him, falling back into it. He opened
his eyes to see his mother, father, and sister sitting on the sofa,
dressed and ready.
"Jeanie! Is that you?" his sister exclaimed. Jeanie was a pet name, only
his sister used. He'd hated it, but she'd done it all his life. There was
no stopping her.
"Hi Mary Anne."
"Nice coat."
He suddenly remembered what he was wearing. "I...uh..," was all he could
manage, while his mother stared angrily, and his father laughed
hysterically. He quickly ripped off the coat and hat, throwing both on
the ground. Unfortunately for him, as trustworthy as the moon, his hair
sprung back into it's near perfect bouffant shape.
"What happened to you?" his father asked with his belly jiggling like
Santa as he chuckled.
Eugene told them the whole story right up until the moment he walked in
the door, while his father kept laughing harder and harder.
His father said, "Well your mothers going to be mad at you for a long
while buddy. I feel sorry for you. Just imagine her face after she has to
reschedule the photographer," His dad then again burst into outright
laughter.
"Enough!" his mother yelled, as she finally burst out. "I had to book him
two months in advance. Imagine how long it's going to be till his next
opening. Hell, it took me 3 hours to get you to but on a tie, instead of
that stained t-shirt. We're only together for a short time, and by god,
I'm going to have a picture of a nice, well dressed, happy family!"
The family had only seen Mrs. Wilson so angry, only a few times before,
and they knew when she was, it meant business. After she composed
herself, she turned to Mary Anne, and said, "Dear, take Jeanie upstairs
to your room, and find him something to nice to wear for the picture. Oh,
and I think he's old enough for a little makeup."
Everyone sat quietly for a second, not knowing what to make of the turn
of events. Mrs. Wilson turned to Eugene, and sweetly said, honey, please
go upstairs with your sister," Her usual demure smile, had returned to
her face, but the rage in her eyes was evident.
"Listen to your mother. Go with your sister," Mr Wilson said, no longer
guffawing uncontrollably. The siblings quickly ran up the stairs, no
longer taking any time to access the situation.
In Mary Anne's room, Eugene sat on the bed while his sister dug through
her closets, and pulled out all of her Sunday best, and setting it next
to him. Once she'd emptied the corner of her closet, she held up several
outfits against him before making her selection. With the dress hung up
on the door, she had sent her brother to the bathroom with a new pair of
underwear, and told him to return wearing them. After he returned she
selected one of her old bras, and fastened it around his chest and then
stuffed the cups with several pairs of pantyhose. She then directed him
into the necessary foundation garments for the dress. He thought the
petticoat was alright, but the girdle was squeezing him to his limit. She
then had him step into a simple gray sheath, with a black belted waist,
and zipped him in tightly.
She sat him at her vanity and started painting his face. While she was
working on his eyes, she said, "You sure have a knack for getting in
trouble."
"What would little miss goody two shoes know about trouble?" he replied.
"I've learned a thing or two while I was at school. Now shut up. I have
to do your lips," After she meticulously lined his mouth, she painted in
the space with a bright red lipstick, then he finally got a chance to see
himself in the mirror. The makeup wasn't overdone, and appropriate for a
girl of his age, but Mary Anne expertly applied the eyeliner, and blush
in such a way, to radically feminize his young boyish features.
"I'm pretty," he said stunned.
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. You still need to accessorize."
She placed a single strand pearl necklace around his neck, and clipped
matching pearl studs to his ears. Afterwards she helped him into a simple
black cardigan, and stood back to absorb the whole picture. "Somethings
missing," she thought out loud. "I know!"
She dug through her drawers, and found a small black bow, and pinned it
high on the side of his bouffant. After she had him step into a pair of
simple black low heeled court shoes, the two walked back downstairs, to
find their parents sitting on the sofa, and the photographer, having
finally arrived, setting up his equipment in front of the fireplace.
He kept quiet the entire time the photographer was there, just following
his directions blindly. He did his best to hold the feminine poses he
kept placing him in as he stood next to his parents sitting in their
chairs smiling. After one torturous hour, the photographer thought he'd
had enough to work with, and just as the family began to disperse, he
offered a free picture of the girls. "I think you guys would enjoy just a
picture of your two beautiful daughters. Something to sit on the night
stand, you know?"
Twenty more minutes of posing, and letting his mother preen him, and he
was done. The photographer packed up, and left, and made his way out the
door. Eugene started to unbutton his sweater, when his mom said, "What
are you doing? We're going to have a nice family dinner, and listen to
the radio afterwards."
"Do we have to?" he whined. Her glare needed to words to be a sufficient
reply.
After an unbelievably awkward meal, they listened to music while chatting
sparingly about current events. Around nine o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Wilson
decided it was time for bed, and wished their children goodnight. As she
gave him a hug, Eugene's mother whispered in his ear, "I hope you've
learned your lesson."
He wasn't sure what lesson he'd learned, if any, but he hugged her
tightly agreed. Once they were gone, Mary Anne said, "Come upstairs, and
I'll help you out of those clothes," Seeing no need to dawdle, he jumped
out of his seat, and eagerly followed.
Once the dress, and jewelry was off, he sat at her vanity in his
undergarments, while she tried to think of anything to do with his hair,
that wasn't so girlish. She grabbed her brush, and just dove in, hoping
to figure it out as she went. It wasn't a minute past, the first stroke,
and he was out cold.
To be continued...
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