Fallen Angel Chapter 11 Althea the School Girl
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Finding My Voice - Chapter 2 - Upping The Ante free porn video
FINDING MY VOICE
Chapter 2 - Upping the Ante
Of course, no sooner had I arrived home from my shopping expedition, than
it was off with my male drab and on with my new purchases. I found that
whilst I couldn't tighten the laces on my corset to the extent that Edith
had managed, I still managed to squeeze my waist sufficiently to create a
reasonable curvy figure. Once fully attired in my underwear, I spent
several deliciously enjoyable hours trying on all the dresses; skirts; and
tops I had retained from Mummy's wardrobe. I even slipped into a few pairs
of trousers and jeans. As a "new girl" I naturally preferred the
excitement of wearing skirts, but I had to admit my bum looked quite good
in skinny-fitting slacks.
When, eventually, I had tried on everything in my, admittedly limited
collection, I decided to undertake some more research into resources
available to transvestites. I was only too conscious, from looking at my
reflection in the mirror, that I really did need a wig and some make-up.
Pouring myself a glass of wine and wearing a navy-blue, box-pleated, knee-
length skirt with a pale blue sweater, I settled down in front of the
computer for an evening of browsing.
It wasn't long before I was in a state of overload; there were just so
many sites offering goods and services for men who liked to dress as
women. One particular link caught my eye which, when followed, led to a
list of establishments that offered "dressing services". On investigation
I discovered that these were places where you could go to be made-over
into the woman of your imagination. Most were at odds to stress that they
offered "dressing services only"; a few said they would be happy to
discuss "other services", by which I took them to mean "sex", and as this
wasn't what I was looking for I quickly bypassed them. A refinement of my
search criteria soon produced a list of dressing agencies with 50 miles of
where I lived. There were three of them and I perused over their web pages
avidly. All of them displayed photographs of some of their clients and I
was astounded by how attractive and realistic many of these men appeared
when in their female persona.
One site in particular drew my attention. "Illusions" was a dressing
service that seemed to be very professional. Their website was well laid
out and their prices more reasonable than others. I was quite attracted to
the idea of paying them a visit to see how good a transformation a
professional make-up artist could make of me, before I started investing
yet more money in clothes and accessories of my own. I therefore
bookmarked their web address and decided to sleep on it before taking a
decision.
My dreams were full of images of me swirling about in a variety of pretty
clothes and, not surprisingly, upon awakening I decided that I would ring
Illusions that very morning. I waited until 10 o'clock before ringing - my
hand had reached out for the phone many times before then, but I thought
it better to wait until they were open for business!
A pleasant female voice responded to my call. "Illusions; how may I help
you?"
"Are you the dressing service based in Bromley?" I enquired, somewhat
inanely as I knew full well that they were!
"That is correct," came the reply. "Are you considering making a booking?"
I said that I was and that this would be my first time for visiting a
dressing service. "I have cross-dressed a bit at home," I explained, "and
I am curious to see how realistic a woman I could become with proper
help."
"I'm sure we can help you," said the woman. "By the way, my name is
Imogene. What is your femme name?"
Foolishly this was something I had never considered. I thought quickly; "I
have always liked the name Sonia," I replied. ("Sonia" had been a girl I
had once had a crush on at school, but it never came to anything!)
"Well Sonia," said Imogene, "when would you like to come and see us? As
this will be your first visit, I would suggest a three hour session. That
way we can get to know each other better; I can assess your 'inner woman'
and dress you accordingly; and there will still be time for you to enjoy
relaxing in all your finery."
This seemed a very sensible suggestion and we arranged that I would visit
Illusions the following Saturday at 11:00 am. Imogene gave me instructions
for finding Illusions. "Park in the forecourt of The Angel pub," she
concluded, "then ring me and I will give you directions for the last part
of your journey. We never give out our exact address to first time clients
as too many of them never show up."
I assured Imogene that I would definitely keep my appointment, but that I
understood her caution and that I would phone her when I reached Bromley.
As I put the phone down I became conscious of my racing pulse. I had to
sit down and recover my breath. I could hardly believe what I had just
done. I was so excited that I wondered how I was going to get through the
next week of anticipation.
The week passed incredibly slowly, but eventually Saturday dawned. I gave
myself the closest shave ever and made sure I was squeaky clean before
dressing in an "all male" outfit - I thought it best to make no
assumptions about what to expect at Illusions. I arrived at The Angel a
few minutes early - (better early than late) - and sat nervously in my car
waiting for the time for me to ring. Unfortunately this also gave me the
time to reconsider what I doing. Remember; apart from playing around with
dresses as a child in a desire to fit in with my mother's female
household, I hadn't cross-dressed until the last few days. In fact I had
never thought about putting on a frock until faced with the prospect of
clearing Mummy's wardrobe. Was this something I wanted/needed to do, or
merely some short-term aberration? I debated long and hard with myself. In
the end I concluded that having come this far, I would regret it if I
didn't go through with my appointment. After all, what was the worst that
could happen? I could feel embarrassed and foolish; waste a few quid and a
day of my life; no big deal and at least I would know for sure and not be
plagued with "what if" issues. If I bottled out now I would always have
doubts.
And so I rang Imogene at Illusions. She was pleased to hear that I had
turned up for my appointment and gave me directions for finding them.
Illusions turned out to be based in a large detached house a few streets
away from the pub. It was set back from the road in a secluded garden and
a U-shaped drive provided ample space for parking my car off-road. I rang
their doorbell. Imogene opened the door. She proved to be an attractive
woman in her early 40's; smartly dressed and impeccably made up. She
greeted me with a smile. "Welcome Sonia. Do come in." I entered and she
showed me through to the lounge where a tray of coffee was waiting. It was
a pretty, light room; stylishly furnished for a feminine taste. We settled
in easy chairs across the coffee table and she poured us our drinks.
"Now tell me a bit about yourself and what you are expecting from this
visit to Illusions," Imogene started, once we had gone through the usual
pleasantries.
I explained about Mummy and the memories that had been awakened as I
started to clear her wardrobe. "To be honest I don't know what came over
me," I started, "I just felt this overwhelming urge to try on some of her
clothes." I then went on to explain how this had led me to buying some
underwear of my own and that I had decided to visit Illusions by way of an
experiment to see whether a complete, professional make-over would help me
understand whether these urges were a "one-off" or something deeper.
"That is a very sensible approach," replied Imogene. "If I may say so, one
of the most coherent reasons for coming here that I have heard in a long
time. I suggest that we now go upstairs and get you changed and made-up.
It will be easier for you to assess your feminine feelings if you are
appropriately attired."
So saying, Imogene ushered me upstairs to a room crammed with feminine
accoutrements; wigs on stands were ranged on shelves; boxes of jewellery
and makeup stood on dressers and tables; and a mannequin in a pretty party
frock occupied one corner. Fortunately it was a large room!
First off, Imogene handed me a pair of black, nylon panties and a lilac
dressing gown. She showed where the bathroom was and asked me to take off
my clothes and put on those she had given me before returning to the make-
over room. It did not take me long to change and I was soon seated on a
high chair whilst Imogene cleansed my face of any excess oils. She then
proceeded to make me up. I couldn't see what she was doing as she had
covered the mirror that stood in front of me with a scarf. "I want your
transformation to be a surprise," she told me, with a laugh in her voice.
Although I had never worn makeup before, I was broadly familiar with what
was happening and Imogene kept up a running commentary, explaining exactly
what she was doing. She started with foundation and powder and, step by
step, proceeded through the application of eye-shadow, mascara, liner, and
false eyelashes - (that was an odd sensation; initially it seemed as
though I had two caterpillars in front of my eyes!) Blusher, lip-liner,
and lipstick followed. As the make-over progressed we chatted about all
sorts of topics - mostly unrelated to cross-dressing - as Imogene started
to assess the sort of person I was and the interests I enjoyed.
Once my makeup was in place, Imogene took one of the wigs from it's stand
- I couldn't see which one - and placed it on my head, asking me to hold
the front band steady whilst she tugged it into place. Several minutes
were then taken up with Imogene combing, pining, and titivating my new
hair. Finally she announced that she had finished and, whipping away the
scarf, she allowed me my first glimpse of my "feminine" head. I was
staggered! I could hardly recognise the person gazing back at me from the
mirror. This wasn't nerdy old me; this was a pretty, younger woman;
smiling in pleasure at her reflection. I finally came to terms with the
fact that it was me, when both I and my reflection moved a hand to my
cheek in amazement. "Don't smudge your makeup," Imogene laughed, clearly
accustomed to this sort of reaction to her work.
Imogene had achieved something I would have thought impossible; she had
made me look younger than I actually am. Although I am only 35, early hair
loss makes me appear quite a bit older. In makeup and wearing a fabulous
wig, if asked I would have put my age at about 28. The wig was truly
wonderful; it was a light reddish-brown with blonde highlights. It fell in
soft waves to my shoulders and had a sweet fringe that helped accentuate
my prettily made up eyes.
"Time to get you dressed" said Imogene, smiling at my evident pleasure
over what she had achieved so far. I was asked to take off my robe and
Imogene took a critical look at my figure. "Well you are nice and slim"
she commented; "Narrow shoulders help and you have very shapely legs and
ankles. I'm pleased to see you don't have too much body hair and I can
cope with that today. However, if you decide to continue with your
dressing, I would recommend that you either depilate or shave your body,
legs and arms." This caused me to blink; I hadn't considered having to get
rid of my body hair. Still not a decision I needed to take today.
Imogene started by handing me a pair of opaque, flesh-coloured, dance
tights. "These will ensure that no hair is seen through your stockings,"
she told me, as I sat, rolled the legs of the tights down, and slipped my
feet into them. I struggled a bit to get them on and Imogene discretely
lent a hand. Next she clipped a six-tab suspender belt around my waist and
helped me put on and fasten a pair of mink-coloured stockings. "Now to
create your feminine figure" Imogene announced, producing a fearsome
looking below-the-bust corset which she proceeded to fit around my waist,
fastening the front busk and drawing in the laces at the back. She
continued to tighten the laces until I was gasping for breath. (Her lacing
was tighter than Edith had achieved back in the shop and much more so than
I had managed on my own.) "That will do for today," Imogene announced,
"but, with a bit of practice, you could take another couple of inches off
your waist." (I couldn't think how; I could hardly breath now, but she was
the expert and I was sure she knew what she was talking about.)
Bra, breast forms, and control knickers followed. They were very similar
to the things I had bought for myself, which was a reassurance. Once
attired in underwear, Imogene produced a gorgeous royal-blue sheath dress,
with long sleeves and a high neckline. "This will hide your arm and body
hair," Imogene announced. "If you do depilate, I have loads of more
revealing outfits that would display your feminine charms to advantage!"
She then handed me a pair of matching blue, satin shoes with a four-inch
heel and pretty little bows at the back. "Try these; they should fit," she
said and, slipping them on my feet, she was proved right. I wasn't too
familiar yet with walking in heels and I staggered a bit as she asked me
to walk round the room. When satisfied that I wasn't going to fall over,
Imogene sat me down again and put on my jewellery. A rope of blue plastic
beads around my throat, with matching earrings and bangles completed my
ensemble.
"Well, what do you think? Do you like it?" Imogene asked with a smile as I
stared entranced at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
"Like it? I LOVE it," I responded enthusiastically. "I never imagined in
my wildest dreams that you would effect such a transformation. I really do
look like a girl!" My delight was self-evident and Imogene gently patted
me on the shoulder to indicate that she too was pleased with my
appearance.
"Why don't we go downstairs and I can introduce you to my husband?"
Imogene suggested. The look of fear that flashed across my face at the
prospect of appearing cross-dressed in front of another man must have been
apparent because she hurriedly went on to say, "Don't worry; Paul is a
cross-dresser himself. He isn't dressed today because we never risk that
with a 'first-timer,' but he does know exactly the feelings you are
experiencing and won't in any way embarrass you. Also he is our
photographer and I am sure you will want a souvenir of today to take away
with you."
Of course she was right and I hastened to reassure her that my reaction
had been purely instinctive and that, whilst I was still nervous, I would
be happy to meet Paul.
Imogene helped me descend the stairs in my unfamiliar high heels. "Hold
onto the handrail," she advised, "and place your feet slightly sideways on
the steps."
I somehow managed to negotiate the stairs with falling and, shyly, entered
the lounge. Paul was seated fiddling with his camera. He rapidly rose,
crossed the room and, gently taking me by the shoulders, gave me an air-
kiss on the cheek. "Welcome to Illusions, Sonia," he greeted me. "I
sincerely hope you will become one of our regular girls. You are very
pretty and you look so confident, I cannot believe this is your first
time." I blushed at his compliments and was grateful at the tactful way he
was trying to put me at my ease. I thanked him and sat down with him
whilst Imogene made us all another cup of coffee.
I found it surprisingly easy to chat with both Paul and Imogene. They were
clearly very used to entertaining nervous cross-dressers in their home
and, in no time at all, their relaxed, cheerful banter had me laughing and
telling the two of them more about myself than maybe I had originally
intended. "So do you think you will continue to dress?" Paul enquired.
"I'm not sure," I answered, "but I am certainly enjoying myself today and
it feels perfectly natural to be sitting here wearing a dress." So saying
I tugged my skirt down a little, where it had ridden up, in a typical
female manner. "I have never previously considered that I might be a
transvestite and it has come as a bit of a shock to find just how much I
am enjoying the experience."
"Don't be embarrassed," Paul said, "it is a much more common condition
than most people realise. It doesn't harm anyone and, if you like
presenting as a woman, why shouldn't you? I get a great deal of pleasure
out of it myself and, on another occasion, if you are happy, I will dress
as well and we can chat as two girlfriends!"
"I'd like that" I replied.
"Much as I would like to sit here chatting for the rest of your
appointment, I think it is time we started taking a few photos of you in
all your finery," Paul said reluctantly, rising from the chair. He turned
out to be a great photographer and whilst my first few poses were stiff
and self-conscious, he soon had me laughing and fooling around as he
encouraged me to flirt with the camera. "Always smile," he advised, "it
not only lights up your face, but it makes you look more feminine at the
same time. I don't know if you have noticed, but women use their smile
much more as a 'social tool' than we men do."
So I kept practicing my smile until it ceased to be an effort and became
perfectly natural.
All too soon my 3-hour appointment was over and Imogene gently encouraged
me to return upstairs where she helped me out of my borrowed finery and
cleaned off my makeup. I felt sad as the different components of my
transformation were removed and either put away or piled up ready for the
washing machine. Handing me a flannel and towel, Imogene suggested I use
her bathroom for a good wash. "Make sure you get all the makeup off," she
advised, "pay special attention to behind your ears, the corners of your
mouth, and around your eyes. You will be amazed at just how far makeup can
creep! Also, don't forget to remove that unsightly body hair when you get
home."
I did as she suggested and returned to the make-over room for one final
inspection before getting dressed.
As I paid her Imogene encouraged me to come again. "It's not the money,"
she said, "although I won't deny that is helpful! I sense that this
'experiment' is going to encourage you in your dressing, rather than turn
you off, and Paul and I would very much like to help you in your journey.
Paul isn't usually as easy with 'first-timers' as he has been with you. I
know he is really looking forward to dressing and having 'girly time' with
you on your next visit."
I felt quite humbled by this outpouring of affirmation and had to blink
back tears. "You are right; I have really enjoyed myself today," I
responded. "I'll need to think things over, but I am fairly sure it won't
be too long before I am ringing you to make another booking."
At the front door, as I was preparing to leave, Paul came over and gave me
a hug. "I prefer you as 'Sonia' to your male persona," he joked, "but I'm
sure that will change as we get to know each other better." So saying, he
handed me a CD of my photographs and we said goodbye.
It is hard to describe my feelings as I walked to my car and set off home.
Visiting Illusions had been a real eye-opener; not only had I enjoyed my
time as a woman, Imogene had shown that I could be a pretty one as well.
My mind was in turmoil. I had made this trip to see whether cross-dressing
was merely a passing fad, or something in my psyche that I had been
suppressing. I was starting to guess the latter! Time for more research
and experimentation.
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