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BECOMING BETH By Betty Noone CHAPTER ONE. THE EARLY DAYS Before I married my beautiful wife of fifteen years, I confessed to her that I occasionally had the desire to dress as a woman. At the age of 24, I had my own apartment before I wed, and had just a few articles for me to dress up in. One pair of panties, a bra, and a house-dress, commonly called a duster. I used pancake concealer to hide my beard and a little lipstick. I did not have a wig, but used a cotton turban, which when placed on my head and over my ears, sort of softened my face. On the occasions when I had the urge to dress, and it was not that often, I always became sexually stimulated. I would dress up with my meager ensemble, look at myself in the full mirror, and find that I was so excited that I needed to masturbate. As I did so my fantasies were of being a pretty girl, and doing girly things. When I was finished and cleaned myself up I could not get out of the clothes fast enough and go back to being George. And I put away the clothes until the next time. There was no way that I would ever look 'pretty'. I am five foot ten, and 180 pounds. I wear a size 11 narrow shoe and my hands are also big. My waist size is 40 inches, but I imagine with a cincher I could get down to 38. In checking sizes when looking at women's clothes on the internet, I find that I would wear either a large, 20, or 18, depending upon the manufacturer. I would need a size 12 woman's shoe, and only if it was open-toed or a round toe. The fashionable pointy toe would not be comfortable on my foot and would look much too big. I knew that even if I tried to dress with nicer clothes I would never look like those transformed in the fantasy stories on the internet. Not even close. But that doesn't mean that one does not wish it so. I had just received my sales license to sell real estate, and after a few months made my first sale. I had a talent for it and was soon making a decent living in real estate sales. I met Linda at the office when she became a client of mine, looking for a home to purchase. She is five years older than me and a licensed therapist, specializing in children's disorders. At her young age she had yet to start her own practice and was working at a clinic. Nevertheless, as a doctor, she earned a significant amount over what I did. It took us four months to find the right house for Linda, and in the meantime, spending so much time with each other in the quest for the right house , we became quite attracted to one another. It started with lunches, then going to dinner, and soon it was dating and then 'your place or mine' where we spent the night together. We were made for each other. It didn't take long for us to have a change of clothes in each other's apartment as well as keys. After the closing on the house that she bought, I made the commitment and proposed marriage. The proposal was at a lovely Italian restaurant, dimly lit, with a thick candle on each table making it all the more romantic. It was then that I confessed my occasional dressing up and, she being a trained therapist, kept her face impassive so I could not tell how my confession was accepted. She asked if she could give me her answer to my proposal the following day, and what else could I do, but agree? When we met the following day, she told me she discussed my 'problem' with her mentor and was told that it was a harmless diversion, and that if she loved me, it would be O.K. I was in love with her, and was sure that she felt the same about me. When she moved into her new home, I gave my landlord notice and moved in with her. And life was good. The real estate market was crazy. Not only were people buying homes to move into, but speculators were buying homes to make a profit. The value of the houses moved upward so rapidly that in six months a speculator could make a tidy profit by flipping the house. And I began to make crazy money. Most of us did. At the age of 25 I am earning over $125,000 a year. Linda found that she did not have to open her own practice, as the Director of the clinic offered her a full partnership along with three other therapists. She would soon be making more than me. Between us, we would able to prepay the mortgage in a few short years, certainly in a lot less time than the 30 year mortgage we had. And we enjoyed each other. Her hours were regular. She was at the clinic by 8 A.M. and got home a little after five. My hours were erratic. There were days when I had little to do at the office and was able to leave for home early. But if was servicing a client my time is their time. So working Saturdays, Sundays and nights is routine. Linda knew I loved my job and didn't seem to mind my erratic hours. And this went on for fourteen years. I am now 39 and my Linda is 44. I have become the lead salesperson in the office, and there was talk by the management of offering me a partnership so that they don't lose me to another office or to my opening up my own office. Linda is now a full partner at the clinic, and it is also doing quite well. I always tell her what I am earning, which has become significant, however, while she tells me she is doing well and matches my salary in our joint checking account, she places any overages in a separate account in her name only. There is so much money coming in that I don't care or question it. She has her idiosyncracies as I do mine. CHAPTER TWO THE BUBBLE BURSTS MY REDISCOVERY Then, the bubble burst. All of us in Real Estate were making money on easy mortgages. The appreciation in the value of the houses outpaced the low inflation rate bymany times. We thought it would never end. But it did, and the market crashed. All of a sudden the market value of a property dove off a cliff. A significant percentage of the home owners found themselves 'under water'. That is, they owed more on the house than it was worth. Not only could they not sell their house, but all of the buyers simply disappeared. And the market values got even lower. In some markets values plunged by over fifty percent. And suddenly from earning over $125,000 a year, in one swoop, I was earning zero. Nobody was making any sales, not even hot-shot me. After a couple of months of this, there was no point in even going to the office. There were rumors (true as it turned out) that the office would not stay open and would shortly close. Not only did it affect the Realtors, but mortgage people, banks, companies that insured the mortgages, title companies, and on and on. Millions of people making a living or in this industry were now out of work. And it isn't going to get better for a long, long, time. With nothing to do, I got depressed. I stayed around the house with little to do. I did not offer to do any additional chores around the house. Linda, being a therapist saw my depression and tried to talk to me, even to offer a prescription for 'happy pills', which I turned down. All of my life I was proud of my appearance: clean shaved; suit and tie and otherwise properly groomed. Suddenly I went days without shaving, wore nothing but Tees and Jeans, although I continued to shower daily. My appetite was poor and just moping around without exercise I found that I lost 11 pounds. Occasionally Linda would ask me to shop for groceries and with a list in hand obliged her, but without any enthusiasm. With little to occupy my time, the computer became my friend. I surfed different chat rooms, and found them to be uninteresting. One day by mistake, (or was it?) I Googled and found a TV story web site. Suddenly I discovered something that I was interested in. I didn't realize it at first, but I began to spend most of my days looking for web sites and reading the fantasy stories. And it turned me on. I began to do something that I hadn't done in fifteen years, and that is, masturbate. Not only masturbate but while doing so, fantasizing about the stories that I read on the web. And I wanted my clothes. I found that I was happy only when thinking about dressing up and doing womanly things. After a week of this, I suggested to Linda, that since I had nothing better to do, would she mind if I took over the care of the house. I told her I would keep it clean, shop for and prepare the meals and otherwise try to make myself useful. Linda thought that it would be good for me to have something useful to do and agreed to it. The next morning after Linda dressed for work, she began to make the bed in our room and I told her to leave it, that the job would be mine from now on, at least until I could find employment, (which incidentally I had not tried to do. I was waiting for the real estate market to come back) She gave a little smile, and dropped the sheet and we went downstairs. I had her sit at the kitchen table, while I prepared her breakfast. She had orange juice, Cheerios with a half of sliced banana, coffee with a half piece of jellied toast. A good breakfast. By habit she began to bring the dishes to the sink to rinse them, and I again told her to leave them, that I would take care of it. She smiled and said that she thought she could get used to the pampering. She kissed me good by and left for work. The French Maid fantasies are so silly. There is not that much to do in a house once it is clean. At most one has a full day's work only once a week. The carpets do not have to be vacuumed but once a week, nor do the bathrooms and kitchen floors have to be scrubbed any sooner. What else could a full time maid really do? Nothing. The daily chores consisted of planning dinner and shopping for food. I tried to make it nice. Instead of eating our dinner at the kitchen table I set the table in the dining room, with the good china and either fresh flowers or a lit candle. When Linda came home I had her favorite chilled white wine ready. She noticed that I was coming out of my depression. I began to again groom myself. I went to the barber and got a haircut. At home I continued to wear Tees and Jeans. Linda seemed happy that I was coming out of my depression, and hugged me a lot, and told me how happy she was that I was again becoming my old happy self. What Linda did not know was that I dug out my goody box that was stored in the basement, and that for most of the day I was in bra, panties, and housedress with the turban on my head. When I left the house I put on my male clothes to shop, but for most of the day I was in feminine attire. Except for a few hours of the day, to make the bed, tidy up the bath sink, do a little laundry, and make dinner, I had the day to myself. And I spent it on the computer. Looking for web sites, Googling different word combinations to get different results. I found sites for adult babies, which I found didn't interest me at all. Those stories to my mind had little basis to reality. But a male being turned into a female by either a loving, cruel or indifferent wife, could under some circumstances be reality. I found that I now masturbated daily after spending time on these sites, but I also found that I no longer wanted to get out of my dress when I finished. I was comfortable wearing my female clothes . I found myself to be happy again, but happy when fantasizing. Masturbating daily meant that I no longer performed well when with Linda. I am sure she was aware of it, but she never talked about it to me, either. Linda continually made comments as to how pleased she was that I was finally coming out of my depression. She also began to enjoy that any responsibility to running the house was no longer hers, and seemed to enjoy the pampering that I gave her. A couple of times I asked if I could help her by brushing her shoulder length hair and she said she preferred to do it herself. But as a therapist, my request did not go unnoticed. CHAPTER THREE LINDA'S FINDS OUT One of the bedrooms of our four bedroom home was made into an office. We both had our own desk tops, mine for fun (It was used extensively when I was working real estate) and hers mostly to record patient files that she may need to refer to when working from home. Therapists have a theory that seemingly accidents are not accidents at all. I am not sure it this was so in my case, but I began to get sloppy about removing the history files daily from the computer. I found on more than one occasion I left open a web page that I was reading, and when I came to the computer the next time, the page was still on the computer. And one day Linda found it. Although I left the web page on,and the computer was on, it was in sleep mode. Linda passed my computer and saw that the screen light was green and pressed the space bar, and a the TV web site appeared on the screen. She sat at my desk and began to read. I cannot say how she felt at that moment in time, but i am sure it was not good. She went to my history file and opened up several more sites. She was still reading when I called her for dinner, all the while thinking she was working on her notes. She came to the dining room, I served dinner. and in my enthusiasm failed to see that she was unusually quiet as we ate our meal. I, on the other hand, was bubbly, telling her of what I thought was an amusing incident that I saw when at the grocers. After dinner she said she had a headache and was going to bed early, and would I mind if I slept in the guest room tonight. This is the first time since we were married that she made this request, and though a little puzzled I said I would. She got up from the table and walked out of the room. I did notice that she made no attempt to say good night or to give me a hug or kiss as she normally does. I figured she was in pain and that it just slipped her mind. After I finished with the dishes and put them away, I went to my computer and was surprised to see that I had failed to shut it down and clean it up. When I pressed the space bar my TV site immediately came on, and I panicked. Did Linda happen to see this? Is this the reason she was so quiet tonight? I quickly erased all the evidence and went to the guest room to make the bed for the night. I tossed and turned, until I decided to fantasize and masturbate, which helped relieve my tension and finally fell into a restless sleep. When I woke in the morning and went to the kitchen I found a note on the kitchen table from Linda saying she had a very early meeting and would be eating breakfast out. She was gone. At eleven A.M. she called, very businesslike, telling me that she had a dinner meeting and would not be home for dinner. This was also most unusual and I realized that I had been found out. In comfort I spent most of the day in my housedress, bra, panties and sneakers. I was so frightened that I spent no time on my computer sites that day. By ten P.M. Linda had stlll not come home and I again went to the guest room to sleep not knowing if I would be welcome in my marital bedroom. In the morning when Linda came down to breakfast at 7 A.M. (an hour later than usual) I was waiting in the kitchen ready to prepare her breakfast. She said she just wanted juice and coffee this morning which I served her. After she had finished, she told me that we have to talk. I already knew by the pit in my stomach what she wanted to talk about. She waited until I cleared the table and rinsed the dishes and we sat at the kitchen table. "How long has this been going on?" she asked. I feigned innocence and said, "What do you mean?" "Don't be cute. You must know by now that I found your web-sites. I am a therapist and am used to hearing about all sorts of things that are different from what we call normal, but I have to tell you, what I saw on your web-sites really shocked me." I started to say, "I'm sorry..." she interrupted me. "Sorry, isn't going to do it. I want you to tell me everything. I am now prepared to listen to it. I spoke with Margaret (Dr. Margaret White, her senior partner, specializing in adult variations of behavior.) yesterday morning, and we met again for dinner last night. She told me that she didn't believe that you were capable of stopping no matter how many promises you would make to do so. That in her experience the intensity of desire only increases with age. And I believe her. So we are going to have some rules." CHAPTER FOUR, THE RULES " The first rule is that you are not to lie to me, or cover up your activities. If we are going to have a chance of this marriage continuing, your activities and fantasies will become an open book. I must know your entire activity. I must know your fantasies. Only then can I make any decisions about where we go from here, if at all," she said ominously. I nodded my head in agreement. "No. Don't not your head. Say it. Say it out loud. I will tell you everything, Linda," she said. "I will tell you everything, Linda," I parroted. "Promise?" "Yes." And I told her about my not having any problems until I became unemployed and unemployable. That in my misery and depressed state I turned to my feeble attempts at dressing up. I brought out my box of clothes that I kept hidden in the attic and showed her my few garments. She said she wanted to see me dressed, and I took the box and went to the guest room and shortly came out. When she saw me, even though she was mad as hell, she began to laugh. Of course this did not do much for my ego. "I can't help it," she laughed. "You look ridiculous. You can never 'pass' you know. Go to the mirror and take a good look at yourself and tell me what you see." And I complied. I saw a man, a masculine man in a house dress. Hairy arms and legs. I had to laugh a little, too. CHAPTER FIVE THE RULES BEGIN "Rule number one, is that you will never lie to me again, or evade telling me everything. And I mean everything. Whatever it is, you will freely tell me openly and honestly. You will tell me what I need and want to know even if I don't ask you for it. Understood?" "Honey," I began to say, and she stopped my conversation. "Rule number two. I am not your 'honey, sweetheart, darling, or any of the other names you called me when you were my husband. My name is Linda, and that is what you will call me. Further, I am not your mistress. Don't curtsy, don't call me 'maam' or pretend that you are my maid. I have read the fantasies, and I am sure that there are a lot more for me to read and learn about, but for now, I really don't know what you are in my life. Until I sort it out, while we are married, I cannot see you as my husband. So, when I am at work today, move all your stuff into the guest room and that will be your room for now," she added. "You have been masturbating as well, have you not?" I again nodded. She said, "Rule number three. When you talk to me, you do not nod. You must say it out loud. I want you to say it, and I want to hear it, understood?" "Yes, ma-" I caught myself from saying ma-am and said 'Linda'. She smiled at my correction. "And?" she asked. "Yes, Linda, I have been masturbating." And then I proceeded to tell my activities from the beginning. How it made me feel, and how I fantasized while masturbating. How I read the stories of acceptance with envy, realizing that it would never work for me, as I could never pass as a female. Linda was quiet while I told her my story and it took almost two hours. CHAPTER SIX THE TRANSITION BEGINS She told me that she cancelled her appointments this day so that we could have this conversation. I told her that while I knew I looked silly while dressed, I could not help how I felt inside of me. And I began to cry. I haven't cried since I was a small boy, but the tears came easily. Linda handed me a tissue and was quiet. "Margaret has clued me as to what to expect, so I am not too surprised by your story. I don't think that I can handle you being two people. One George and the other....do you have a girl's name?" I shook my head, but realized the rule, answered, "No." "Here is what we will do. I want to try to see that you are happy. I realy was quite concerned about your mental health when you first lost your job, and i don't want to sse that again. You have taken over the house which I suppose is part of your fantasy, and I have to confess that I am not displeased with it. But these rags that you are wearing are probably not doing much for you either. Here is rule number four. I don't want to see George around here, at least not for now. I want you to explore who you think you are inside of you, and I will try to help you. But if you have to wear male clothes, make sure that I don't see you. So if you go out to shop as a male, if I am at home when you come back in, come in through the back door. I don't know at this time what our relationship together will be. But for now it is not going to be husband and wife. You cannot pass as a woman, so you will have to be a sissy. And 'sissy' Is what I will call you. Any problems with that....sissy?" "No, Linda." "Rule number five.. Margaret told me that almost all of you are ashamed to be seen for what you are. You probably want to stay hidden in the house well, that is not going to happen. You are a sissy? Then I want you to be proud of who you are. You will have to learn that you don't care what others will think of you, and most of society will not think kindly of you, sissy, You know that don't you? "Yes." "But if you are going to be a sissy, my sissy, then you will hold your head up high, and be what you are. It will be difficult for you, I'm sure, but that is rule number six." "Yes, ma-am." "What?" Linda flared. "Maam is not acceptable. I am not going to be your maam." "I understand, Linda, I will try my best to comply." Well then, let's go to the computer and see if we can get you some appropriate clothing for you to wear." She took me by the hand and led me upstairs. She didn't realize it but I was thrilled as this was the first time Linda touched me since this started. In the computer room she had me strip except for bra and shorts and measured me carefully with a tape measure. She determined that I would need a size 18 in a dress and skirts. A ' large' in sweaters and blouses. Linda then sat at the computer and I drew up a chair and sat next to her, close enough that I too, could see the screen. She looked at a list of sites that she had already made and the first one was Paula Young, a wig vendor. I would have liked to have hair coming down past shoulders, but Linda thought that a straight do, coming down to just below my jaw line with soft bangs would be better for my face. My hair is dark brown and after discussion she determined that a light auburn color would be appropriate for my skin tone. They were not terribly expensive, only 49.95 each (she ordered two) with free shipping. She then went to Payless shoes. The shoes were not only inexpensive but in most ladies styles they carried them in size 12 which we determined I would need to fit me. She first selected what I would call nurses oxfords. A laced shoe with a 2" wedge sole. She ordered one pair in white and one pair in black. Then, working from the inside out, there were bras, panties and slips. There were cotton hose in black and tan. There were also sheer nylons, "for dress up occasions," she said. "Aren't we spending an awful lot?" I suggested. "There is still plenty of your money in the pot from when you were working, but even so, my career is set and I needn't worry about money ever again, so even if it isn't even, it will be my gift to you." "Thank you," I said. "What about makeup?" "We can get makeup locally. It will be better if we can match it to your skin tones in person. Maybe we can do that this afternoon. We'll see. It is past 12:30 and I am getting hungry. Why don't you go to the kitchen and make lunch? Call me when you are ready." I did. Linda was taught all about doms and submissives. She didn't want to become a dom to her sissy. She didn't know yet, what she wanted to be in the relationship, assuming that there would be a relationship at all. So she was careful not to give sissy any direct commands, but phrase all her requests in the form of a question. Being a schooled therapist, she was also aware that her sissy accepted each question as if it were an order and never did I not do as was requested. While I was in the kitchen, Linda went to another web site, selected a contraption and ordered it by express delivery. Delivery promised within 48 hours by FedEx. When she pressed the tab 'order' she smiled at a job well done. After lunch they went back to continue shopping. More shoes were selected. Mules with a heel for getting out of bed, pumps and loafers. One pair of sneakers in white with a pink trim. Then there were nighties. Nylon classics coming to just above the knee. Then a terry robe for the bath or shower, and a nylon robe for lounging. Waist cinchers, one in black and one in nude. As for jewelry, Linda said she would lend me what I needed, for now . Last, but not least, were skirts, blouses, sweaters, a rain coat and a top coat. The top coat weordered would come down to myknees with a tapered waist, belt, and full skirt. By the time this was done it was now close to four P.M. Too late to shop for food and prepare dinner. Linda suggested that w go out to eat. For the first time I protested. "But I can't go out like this, and rule four is that you are never to see me in male clothes." She said, "Rule three is that you are to be proud to be what you are. If you are a sissy, then be proud. You cannot stay in the house forever. Now is a good time to bite the bullet. I will lend you one of my jackets. I think you can wiggle into an old pair of my jeans, and I have a blouse that will fit you.. Add just a little foundation and light lipstick. Wear your loafers if you like. But we are eating out." "But my voice...." "Don't try to talk in falsetto. Just try to get your voice out of your chest and try to talk a little more from your throat. Raise the pitch just a little. You will come out deeper than most girls, but it won't be too bad. You'll see." I had no choice and did as she bade. It was just getting dark when we arrived at a little local Italian bistro. We were shown to a table for two and there was no comment either positive or negative as we sat down The hostess handed us the menus, saying that our server would come shortly. "I have an idea, sissy," Linda said. "In addition to what I suggested, lisp when you talk. And talk very softly, not loud. Say something to me so I can hear how you sound." "What thould I thay?" I lisped softly. "Perfect" Linda exclaimed. "Just like that. You are really going to be a real sissy. You're coming along quite rapidly. Are you happy, so far?" "Confuthed ith more like it," I lisped. "What do you mean?" "Well, I don't know how far we are taking thith. With what we bought today it theems that thith is not going to be a thort range thing, ith it?" "No, sissy. It is not. I still don't know where we are going with this either. But if you are comfortable, and I am starting to get comfortable with it as well, why don't we see how it plays without thinking too much about what will be." "All right," I said. The waiter arrived and Linda ordered a glass of the house white wine, and she nodded at me indicating that it would be O.K. for me to order a wine as well. "I'll have the thame ath thee hath." I lisped softly. I saw the waiters eyebrows lift a little when he heard me order, then he took a closer look at my made up face, smiled to himself, but said nothing and left for the bar to get our drinks, as we read the menu. The waiter shortly returned with our wine and a basket of warm Italian bread with a ramekin of butter. Linda told me to sit up straight and throw my chest out. Be proud of who you are and what you are going to become, she whispered. I immediately followed her advice and she said, "Better, much better." We made our dinner choices, put our menus down and Linda said, "I never thought I would ever say this, but I am getting involved with your transformation. I realized it when we were on-line ordering your new wardrobe and I began to get excited at being a part of your transformation. I am starting to get excited about seeing you in some proper clothing." "Transformation?" "Of course, silly. I can see that you are taking to your new persona quite well . You are happy about this, aren't you?" she again asked. I took about a half minute before I replied. "I don't know about happy. But I do know that I am quite comfortable with what I am doing. I am alone a lot, and that is not good for me." "You mean your masturbation problem?" I nodded, not wanting to say 'yes' out loud. She went on. "There will be a solution to that soon. I ordered a chastity belt for you to wear. I believe it is called the CB3000. When you are wearing it you will not have access to your penis as you will be locked away. Another good feature of it is that you will have to sit to pee, like women and real sissies do. It is being shipped in special and you should have it by tomorrow or the next day." "Wear it all the time?" "As a doctor, I am aware of your need to get an ejaculation and get rid of your semen from time to time. I will see to it that you get relief no less than once each week. But of all the changes, the one that disturbs me most, is your constant playing with yourself, and I want that to stop." "And what about uth?" "Us is no longer an issue, sissy. I don't know how long it will take before I feel the need for my sexual needs, and when I do, you will not be a part of it, in any way. Understood?" I couldn't help it, and momentarily forgot rule number four and said, "Yes, maam." Fortunately Linda didn't make an issue of my lapse. The waiter shortly returned, and Linda ordered spaghetti and meatballs, and I ordered the lasagna. Linda ordered another glass of wine for herself, and when I looked at her she shook her head, indicating that I was not to have any more. We sat, munching on bread waiting for dinner to arrive. We both sat quietly in our own thoughts. After dinner, Linda paid the check. I had no pockets in my jeans as they were women's jeans, and I was not ready to carry a purse for my personal stuff, so I had nothing on me. "Next time you will take a purse, won't you?" Linda chided. "Yeth, Linda. Next time I will carry a purth." CHAPTER SEVEN MILLY'S MAKEOVER After dinner we went to the mall. In the center aisle of the mall there was a kiosk selling cosmetics. A very pretty young girl in her early twenties was on duty. She was wearing a white smock as if she were a beautician. When we approached, she said to Linda, "Hi, my name is Milly. How can I help you today?" Linda said, "Yes. We need some foundation, and all the stuff necessary to do a makeover. Can you do that?" "Oh, yes. We are factory trained and a full makeover is what we do. Of course, if you like it, we expect you to purchase our products. Did you say, 'we'?" "The makeover is not for me, but for this sissy here. I want his face softened so that he looks more feminine. I want you to show him how to wear daytime makeup and nighttime make up." "Did you say, 'sissy?'. This is not for some kind of party?" "No, he is going to become a full-fledged sissy." "Oh, my," Milly gasped, "I never met one before." While this conversation was going on, I could not help myself and began to cringe a bit, saying nothing. Linda saw it and immediately said, "Head up, sissy. Be proud of who you are. I don't want to have to mention it again." I immediately did as she asked. Milly began to accumulate different bottles, tubes and compacts. She started out by saying to Linda, "I can apply Erace on his eyebrows to give the effect of thinner brows, but he really should have them taken care of." "You are right," Linda answered. "I will have to look into that." With every application Milly was careful to explain what it was, and what she was doing and how it was to be applied. I listened attentively as did Linda. It took a little over 45 minutes for her to complete my day makeup. My eyebrows looked thinner, there was mascara on my lashes, foundation, powder, a little blusher and lipstick. The lipstick had a flavor to it which I found very nice. She showed me how to first outline my lips with a pencil and then fill them in with a lipstick brush. She made my lips larger than I was used to, but I found the effect quite nice. "There, all done!" Milly stepped back. Linda took my chin in her hand and turned my face to one side and then to another. "I like it," she admitted. "Not a woman, but a girly man," she added. She then handed me a mirror with a handle on it, and I have to admit, while I am not pretty, nor am I a girl, I looked much better than before. No one could take me for less than what I am, a real sissy. With the new makeup on, I was beginning to be proud of my new status as a sissy. "What about evening wear?" Linda asked Milly. "With the exception of eye-shadow which I will put on him now to show him how, it is all a matter of changing colors. For evening wear he must use darker colors in the foundation and lipstick and that is about it." She then applied eye shadow to my lids telling me how she was doing it. She then wiped it off, and had me apply it myself, which she was satisfied with. Milly, a good salesgirl, also recommended makeup remover, and cream lotion for my face to keep it soft. She put all the purchases in a plastic carry bag and handed it to me, asking, "What do you call yourself, sissy?" "Sissy. I am called sissy," I replied. I took the bag, and for the first time, Linda took me by the arm as we walked away. It felt so good that Linda was beginning to touch me again. We walked past several more kiosks and wound up at an ear-ring counter. "He wants to have his ears pierced," Linda said to the girl at the kiosk. While she could see traces of the cosmetics still on my face, she made no comment but asked where, and how many? "Just one in each lobe. Do you have a post with a pearl on it?" Linda asked. "I think so, let me check." She soon came back with a packet with two round pearl beads. Instead of the ivory color as pearls usually are, they had a slight pink tinge to them. "I'm sorry, but these are the only ones we have," the clerk said. "It's O.K. We;ll take them." With that the operator wiped my lobes with alcohol, took her gun, loaded it and I had pearls in my ears. She handed me a paper where the care of the ears must be maintained until full healing is effected. I thanked her, Linda paid her and we went back to our car for the ride home. "It has been a busy day, wasn't it, sissy?" "Yeth, Linda. It hath been," I lisped. "You know," Linda went on, "by the time you are through,you are going to become the best sissy ever." When we got to our respective bedrooms, I was so pleased when Linda gave me a quick hug, and said goodnight. We went to our respective bedrooms, I changed into a nighty and even though I was exhausted from this day, found it difficult to get to sleep. I tried to play with myself, but found that my penis was not responding, and soon I turned over and fell asleep. CHAPTER EIGHT THE SISSY IN CHASTITY I made breakfast for her, and was so pleased that she gave me a little hug as she left for work. She mentioned that she would have given me a peck on the cheek, but didn't want to mess up my new cute face. Cute? No, not really, but certainly less manly than before. The doorbell rang at about four P.M. and I went to answer it. I already have become accustomed to answering the door, and whoever was there had to see the sissy. So what? I am listening to my Linda, and she says I must be proud of who I am, and I am trying. I sign for the package and realize that the delivery guy is so wrapped up in his work and in a hurry to speed to the next stop, that he has no idea it was a sissy that answered the door. Somehow, it disappointed me a little. I am starting to want to be seen as a sissy. I know what the package contains, but put it down waiting for Linda to open it, as she is the one who ordered it for me. I began to make dinner, and upon Linda's 'suggestion' that we have red meat but once a week, and salads, fish or chicken the rest of the week, I prepared a nice grilled salmon on a bed of rice. I set the dining room table with fresh flowers as a centerpiece, and waited until Linda came home before starting to grill the fish. When I was George, (George? Where did he go? And who was he?" I liked beer. But I have since learned to enjoy a chilled glass of white wine with dinner, especially with a fish or chicken entree. As soon as she came in, Linda saw the package. She couldn't wait until dinner was over. Normally I clear the table and get the dishes into the dishwasher at the end of the meal, while Linda watches the news in the family room, but tonight she wanted to start on getting the belt on me and told me to do the dishes later. We wound up in my room. Linda opened the package and took out the parts. There were five different sized plastic rings, a little lock and some plastic ties along with the plastic tube itself. Linda, first read the installation instructions and then, being a perfectionist, she read them again. She went to her bathroom and came back with a bottle of baby oil and a long piece of thread. She had me lay on my bed with my panties down and penis exposed. She tried several rings that went behind my scrotum before she felt she had the proper size. She closed the ring shut. She then oiled the inside of the plastic tube with baby oil, and then put a little oil on my penis, which was starting to get erect. "This is not for pleasure, sissy, Remember, I am a doctor, this is clinical. She slapped my semi-erect penis several times with some very hard slaps and my erection began to come down. She took the thread, wrapped it about the head of my penis but did not tie it in a knot. She then inserted the thread down the tube so that the end came out of the tip of the device. She put my now soft member into the tube, and gently pulled on the thread, and it pulled my penis into the tube. The oil did the trick. She then inserted the other end of the tube into the pre- drilled holes placed in the scrotum ring, set it in place, and inserted the lock, and with a click I was secured. Finally, she gently tugged on the thread a couple of times, loosening it and withdrew it. Complete. I am now chastised. "Once each week I will give you the key for you to unlock yourself for two hours. During that time you can pleasure yourself however you want, After you are done you will re-install your belt and give me the key until the next time. Is that clear?" "Yeth, I underthand." "Good. What day do you want?" "Can I have Thaturday morning, after breakfatht?" "Of course you can, sissy." And with that she took the key to her bedroom. Linda did not hide the key and left it on her dresser, knowing that sissy would not dare to take the key without permission. CHAPTER NINE THE STUFF ARRIVES It took almost two weeks before all the merchandise ordered arrived. Every day packages came. Many of the evenings were spent trying on clothes. Most of the items were keepers, and only a small amount had to be returned for quality or fitting reasons. I hung up my new clothes in my bedroom. I was also surprised when Linda purchased a new spread for my bed. It was of white nylon with red brocaded roses as a pattern. There were also two pillow shams in the same pattern as well as a ruffled white bed skirt. How femmy. I loved it. When I told Linda that I loved it, she said she knew I would. "George has his clothes in my bedroom," Linda said one morning. "I want it out of there. You can either donate it to Good Will or store it in the basement, I don't care which. I don't think George is ever coming back do you, sissy?" "No. But I would like to thtore the thtuff in the bathement. May I?" "Of course," she replied. It took almost a half day for me to accomplish the task. Walking to the second floor and then down to the basement, one box at a time (Linda brought home cardboard packing boxes she bought from a moving company for the task.) took a lot of energy. Fortunately I was wearing a blouse, jeans and my sneakers. That helped. I was exhausted when I was through and went to my room to lay on the bed and rest. My hand instinctively went to my penis, and found it sheathed in plastic. I squeezeD the plastic tube to see if I could feel anything and I could not. "Why do they call it a 'belt" I thought, "It is not a belt, it is a tube.. Oh, well." Exhausted, my hand left the device, I pulled up my panties turned over, pulled a cover over me, and took a nap. Over the next several days, out of habit I found my hand going to my penis, but unable to feel anything, soon stopped. Going to the bathroom having to sit to pee, was something I took to right away. It reinforced my sissy status but also felt natural. Over the next several weeks I was experimenting with my wigs, makeup and new clothes. I dressed in a house dress during the day, wearing only foundation powder, and lipstick. I wore different shoes (except when I had to thoroughly clean the house on Saturdays. when I wore my nurses oxfords, which I found to be quite comfortable to wear. Linda asked me not to clip my nails and by the end of the second week they were getting quite long. On the firstSaturday, after being put in chastity, while at the breakfast table, Linda handed me the key to my CB3000 and said she would see me in a couple of hours. I finished cleaning the kitchen and went to my room. I had a jar of vaseline waiting on my nightstand. The first ejaculation was too quick as I was too excited to last very long. It took about twenty minutes before I was able to get erect again, and then had a more satisfying ejaculation. I wiped myself with a soapy hand towel and reinstalled the device. I used some baby oil, both on the tube and my penis and it went in quite easily, even without the thread. I re-locked myself and got dressed for the day, wearing my wig and a nice blouse and skirt. I chose a three inch heel to wear as I decided that I needed to get used to wearing them. Walking in the heels put a little sway in the skirt that Linda noticed when I came downstairs. "Cute." was all she said. I knew she was getting used to see me as her sissy. I spent the rest of the day cleaning house, and wearing heels and a skirt was the wrong thing to do. So I went upstairs and changed to jeans and my sneakers. Scrubbing the bath and kitchen floors on one's hands and knees is awfully hard on the knees, and Linda had me go to the hardware store that afternoon and get knee pads that tied on to wear when scrubbing the floor. By four P.M. I was done, but quite tired. I mentioned this to Linda and she suggested we order a pizza in. I thought it was a great idea. Before the pizza was delivered, we each had time for a little glass of wine, and found ourselves chatting about different styles. Most evenings were spent in the family room watching TV. Naturally I no longer had control of the remote and watched whatever Linda watched. They were girly shows. I found that I lost interest in reading the paper, except for the women's section, and local and world news no longer interested me. My new life was all that absorbed me. I was no longer confused as to what was to become of me, and frankly was looking forward to each new experience. Linda had a habit of not telling me what is in store for me until the day it was to occur, and I got used to the excitement of not having to think about anything in advance. Was I becoming a ditzy air head? I only knew that I wasn't thinking as clearly as before. CHAPTER TEN GOING TO THE SALON On Sunday morning at the breakfast table Linda tells me that we have a one o'clock appointment at her salon. I asked her what I should wear, and she says whatever I want is O.K. , but to wear my wig and to take my purse. I chose a nice cotton blouse and my jeans. I wore my loafers with knee high nylons. Of course wearing my bra and panties was an everyday thing now. My ears healed but I was still wearing the pearl posts. At 12:30 I found Linda waiting for me at the foyer. Handing me a cloth coat, saying it might get cooler later in the afternoon, I put my purse over my shoulder and off we went. I sitting in the passenger seat as always. I didn't realize that for many salons, Sunday is the second most busy day of the week. Friday being the busiest. It was full of women sitting in their chairs, some under driers, others getting manicures and pedicures. We were greeted by the receptionist who knew Linda. "Hi, Doctor Blakely," she said. Just give me a minute to hunt down Beverly and we will be ready for you." Linda told her, "I am giving my appointment to my sissy here. He will be getting the treatment. You will notice that I booked extra time today. I am just coming along to offer advice if needed." Looking at me closely for the first time realizing that I was not an ugly female, but a feminized sissy, all she said was, "Oh!" Shortly Beverly came out, seemed happy to see me and led me to a changing room. She handed me a gown and paper slippers and told me to take off my clothes except for my under things. She obviously was unsure of what I was wearing underneath. I took off my clothes and hung them on the hooks provided in the changing room, donned the gown and slipped my feet into the paper slippers. The slippers were a little snug on my large feet, but I got them in without tearing them. I walked back to the empty chair where Beverly was waiting for me. Linda was seated in a chair opposite from me, scanning through an issue of the Cosmopolitan magazine. Beverly took her time examining my face, and asked where I got my makeup. I told her it was from the kiosk in the mall, and she tsked. All they want to do is sell the product. She said that the lighting is bad for cosmetics in the mall and what you are wearing is not right for you. But we will take care of it, not to worry. Not that I was worried. Upon hearing this, Linda looked up from her magazine, winked at me, and returned to her reading. Beverly removed my wig, and told me that she was going to shave my head. I asked why and she said a wig over hair would continually cause it to slip. But with a bald head and with a nylon wig cap on, once the wig is in place it will stay there. I was apprehensive about having all of my hair cut off, but knew better than to protest. Beverly led me to a sink, I sat on a stool, and she bent me forward that my head was over the sink. She put a stopper in the drain so alll my hair could be collected without stopping up the sink. She then took a clipper and gave me a buzz cut. I realized that she was going to cut my hair one layer at a time. She switched to a different clipper and this one cut my hair down to a stubble. She then lathered my scalp and with a pink razor and a bowl of water to collect the hairs and keep the razor clear of hair, she began to shave my head. Afterwards she put a dollop of cream on her hands and rubbed in in my scalp.. When she wiped the excess cream from my head, it was as shiny as a billiard ball. If I looked strange before, I looked stranger now. She wrapped my head in a towel, turban fashion, and led me back to my chair. She laid me back and with hot towels not only removed all of my make up but opened the pores on my face. She took her pink razor and with warm water as a lubricant shaved my face as close as she could. While I was in the laying down position I felt someone take my hand and proceed to give me a manicure. After twenty minutes I heard the manicurist talking to Linda and then proceeded to apply polish to my nails. I got one coat of enamel and when applied the girl began my pedicure. First one foot then another in the warm bath and then she completed the job. I then felt her apply a coat of enamel to my toes, after first separating each toe with rolled cotton. She then applied a second coat of enamel on my fingernails. When Beverly sat me up from the facial, I looked at my hands and really liked them. They looked quite feminine. My hands looked slimmer somehow. I was starting to feel more feminine than sissy sometimes, and this is one of those times. I saw Linda give a little smile when she saw me examining my manicure holding my hands in the feminine manner. I don't know where these mannerisms came from. They seemed so natural for me to do. Beverly told me that my eyebrows were just too thick to pluck and that she was going to remove them entirely. She said it would hurt, but only for a little while and for me to be a good sissy and try not to cry out. I nodded that I would. But I asked her if I wouldn't look strange without eyebrows and she said that we would apply eyebrow pencil to shape new ones. Lots of women do that, she said confidently, suggesting that I was one of them. It hurt more than she said it would. I almost bit my tongue in pain but being a small area, it was done in one application, and the pain did not linger. Beverly made up my face, telling me how to use different colors to reduce the appearance of my nose. She changed the colors somewhat, and said that a little eyeshadow in the daytime was acceptable as long as I didn't use too much. When she was finished, she reset and combed my wig, I looked like a different girl. My face did not look like a man in drag, but Beverly made me to be an acceptable woman. . Acceptable for a middle aged woman. My God! I am thinking of myself as a woman, now. Where am I going with this? Linda expressed her complete satisfaction. I was allowed out of the chair to get dressed, and Linda handed me one of my skirts, saying that this would be more appropriate than my jeans. I took it, and when I came out changed, both Beverly and Linda clapped their hands in approval. I smiled what I thought was a pretty smile. Linda said, "You don't smile enough. I see you are happy now. Women smile all the time. Happy sissies do too. So I want you to concentrate on smiling, even when you are alone. It will do you good in the long run, you'll see." On the way home with my bag of cosmetics in my lap, I kept a smile on my face. The first thing I did when I got home was go look at myself in the mirror. And I liked what I saw. Not beautiful, not even pretty, but acceptable. I liked it. I was never able to achieve this effect before, and now I was falling in love with the image in the mirror. It was now five P.M. and I made a nice salad with garlic Texas toast. We had some tea afterwards, along with a few sugar cookies that I baked the day before. I was getting to be a whiz in my kitchen. Did I say 'my kitchen? Sometimes even I am amazed by my thoughts. I changed to a robe and gown and joined Linda in the family room. We watched a chick flick and I found myself crying in a tissue because it was a sad love story. Afterwards I left the room as I had to remove my makeup as my tears smeared my mascara. I put on a little lipstick before I went down and rejoined Linda. I found that I had a standing appointment every two weeks at the Salon, and an appointment in my own name. Last week Linda sold my Lexus and leased a Honda for me to drive since I was not going to put on a lot of miles on it. I noticed the name on the lease was Linda, but the designated driver was Beth Blakely. When I asked Linda, she said my name was going to be changed to Beth. 'Sissy' on a drivers license would cause to much attention. I would be called 'sissy' but legally I would become Beth. I wasn't asked if I liked or even wanted the name 'Beth." Fortunately, I did. I signed the name change application which Linda took to the office and had the company attorney make the arrangements for the legal change. By Wednesday Linda came home early with the papers from the court. She called from the office telling me to be ready to go with her as soon as she arrived home so we could get to the drivers's license bureau before they closed. We arrived in plenty of time, and with me in tow, handed the papers and new drivers license application to the clerk. The clerk paid no attention to either Linda or me, asked for the ten dollar fee, which I dug out of my wallet that was in my purse and paid for it. We were given a number and directed to the camera station. After a fifteen minute wait, my number was called and my picture was taken. Only five minutes later, I heard the call, "Beth!" I went to the counter, the clerk handed me my license, and whispered, "Good luck. My brother is just like you." I smiled, took the license, inserted it in its pocket in my pink wallet, closed my purse, threw it over my shoulder, and sashayed out of the place, swinging my hips just a little in my 3" pumps. Linda was laughing out loud at the sight of me, and followed me out to the car. She handed me the keys to her Lexus and said, "You're legal now. sissy. You drive home. But be careful. You are in heels. and the feel on the accelerator and brakes is a little different, so take it easy. I slid behind the driver's side, for the first time in almost three months and drove her car home without incident. Life for me is getting better all the time. CHAPTER ELEVEN MEETING THE PARENTS. We haven't seen either of our parents since my coming out. We talked to them at least once each week and if my parents noticed the change in the timber of my voice or my more feminine way of speaking, they never mentioned it. Linda' parents always made me feel welcome although I was aware that they wished she married someone with more education than a High School diploma. At least a doctor, like herself. Nevertheless, when Linda told them that I was the 'one', they made themselves welcoming in-laws. I felt after we were married for a little while that they even began to like me. "You realize that it is time for you to come out to the folks, don't you?" "Yeth. I guess it ith time. But I am really worried about how they are going to take it." "Well, I will do my best to prepare them before they arrive." I let it go at that. It was to be the following Sunday, after our visit to the Salon so that we both would be as pretty as we could. Linda, for sure, me, mentally for sure, but otherwise not so sure. As we went upstairs at four P.M. to get ready for our guests were to arrive at six for dinner, Linda handed me a dress box. In it was a long silken skirt in pale yellow. I tried it on and it came down to my ankles. It fit perfectly around my waist and it was complemented with a small gold metal belt. The skirt flared. I loved it. "Wear it with your ivory blouse. And put on your patent leather 2" pumps. I know you would like to wear the higher heel, but I don't want you tripping on the carpet. The two inch will also be more comfortable to wear for the entire evening." When I was dressed and showed myself to Linda, she involuntary clapped her hands, saying, "Perfect!" She went to her jewelry box, and brought it to my room. I was already wearing a gold watch, and she put a gold chain about my neck. She removed the pearl studs from my ears, (which I have been wearing all the time ) and inserted gold drop earrings that swayed each time I moved my head. I loved it. I already had three thin gold bangles on my right wrist. Adding the jewelry completed my ensemble. Wearing the long skirt took only a few minutes of getting used to. I put on my makeup and combed my wig. I went to Linda's room and asked, "How do I look?" "Really very nice, sissy. Just remember to go with the flow tonight. I have tried to prepare both sides, but you never know how they will react when they meet you in person. Just remember to smile a lot and talk softly. I notice that when you get apprehensive you tend to go back to your old way of speaking. Talk from your throat and softly. Maybe you shouldn't lisp tonight." "I don't know if I can do that, Linda. I have been lithping for over two monthth now, and it has become part of me. Thee, I did it again." "It will be O.K. sissy." "Linda, do you think it will be all right if maybe, jutht for tonight, you call me Beth?" "Oh, Beth. Of course. And she came to me and gave me a hug. It made me so happy that Linda seemed to be O.K. with what I have become. They were fifteen minutes late. But both parents came almost at the same time, For a change Linda answered the door, and admitted her parents. She took their coats (It is now late September and cool.) and hung them up in the guest closet. In their greetings to their daughter they didn't notice me standing a few feet back of the door, waiting. Linda said, "Mom, Dad. This is Beth. I stepped forward and noticed that for a second both of their jaws dropped. But being forewarned by Linda to 'be nice' they quickly recovered, but not coming close, LInda's mother said, "Nice to meet you at last, Beth. But I thought you were called, 'sissy'." "My name is Beth, now, mother." In my previous life I always called her by her given name of Clara, but somehow, 'mother' came out of my mouth. Jim, Linda's father, in an attempt to be nice, came forward with his hand out to shake hands, He was surprised to find that I put my hand in his, femininely, and he dropped it as if it were a hot potato. At that very moment my parents came in, the front door still being open. Along with them was my only sibling, my younger sister by three years and her husband Bill. Linda did the same thing with the coats, but this time my mother saw me standing behind Linda and came right up to me. "Oh, George. Um, excuse me, you're not George anymore are you? Sissy, I believe Linda said." "Hello, mother. My name hath been changed to Beth. I altho will anther to thithy. Take your pick." "Why are you talking like that? Um, Beth." "Because thith is the way thithies talk, mom. I have been doing it for tho long that I don't think I can thtop it." "Well, sissy, let me take a good look at you. Turn around. I pirouetted on my heels my skirt flairing out, and smiled. Mother took my hands and saw my red manicured nails, smelled my perfume and then gave me a hug. She whispered in my ear as she did so, "Is this making you happy, dear? You are not being forced into this are you? " "No mother, I am truly happier now than I have ever been, and thith is who I want to be. It took Linda a long time to get uthed to it. Thith was not her doing, mom, it wath mine." My mom then told me, "Beth, you are not a parent. But I want you to know this, if a parent's child is happy, then the parent is happy. I will always love you no matter what you are. Know that." She then turned to my dad, and said, Max, go hug your sissy son. He is called 'Beth' now." And to my surprise, he not only hugged me, but said, "What your mother just said, goes for me too. I am not sure I understand you, but if this is what you are and want to be then I will support you and love you as best I can." My eyes filled with tears, in gratitude. Then my sister and her husband who have been behind them watching the scene came to me. Clarice hugged me and said, "I've always hoped to have a sister, and now I have one. You really look very nice tonight." "Clarithe, I am not your thithter. At leatht not yet, and maybe never. For now I am a thitty.. Thittites love to dreth and act ath women, but we thtill have that thing between our legth. I am not on hormonths, or anything like that. I am just a thithy." "But you don't seem to be upset about it. are you?" "No. From the beginning when Linda was not comfortable with my coming out, she made a rule that if I wath a thithy I mutht be proud of who I am and will be. I followed that rule as betht I can and while it was difficult at timeth, I am a proud thithy, and I don't care who knowth it." At this time my brother-in-law came by and said, "Hey, guy. You sure look different from the last time I saw you. But, hey, if you're O.K. with it, why should I complain?" Laughingly he continued, " I just hope this doesn't give Clarice some strange ideas. Ha ha." And with that they all left to seat themselves in the family room, joining Linda's folks. Linda went to get the appetizers as I took orders for the cocktails. I swished to the little bar that I set up near the kitchen and made the drinks. I brought them out two at a time on a tray, not to spill any of the liquid. When I served them I bent over at the waist, and they were all able to observe the little cleavage that my bra made. Naturally, most of the conversation was about me. Linda came out with a tray of munchies, and without too much urging told my story. While this was going on, I excused myself and went to the kitchen. I donned a white party apron so as not to soil my beautiful skirt. After about a half hour I announced that dinner was ready and everyone piled into the dining room. I brought out two bottles of champagne which I left for the men to open and went back to the kitchen to bring out the rest oif the meal. I made a beautiful rib roast, with oven browned potatoes and creamed string beans. I thought of making a dinner salad, but I felt that with the cake I made for dessertit would be too much food. After I served (Clarice offered to help but I turned her down, while Linda kept on telling the long story of my transformation. She left nothing out, even to telling about my CB3000. "Linda," I exclaimed. "There are thome things they don't have to know' Linda ignored me and kept on with the story. I sat with rest of the family. After the entree, Clarice did help me remove the dishes and reset the table for dessert and coffee. Linda's mother said, "She did this all by herself?" calling me with a feminine pronoun for the first time. "He, mother," Linda corrected. "Not 'she', 'he'." "Sorry. But you have to admit, it is easy to get confused 'He' (she emphasized it) does'nt look like a 'he'." "That;s why I find it so fun," Linda confessed. I had to admit this took me a little by surprise but said nothing, but just smiled. "At the end of coffee, with everyone's belly full and completely talked out, the guests announced that it was time to go home It was now past 9:30 and I know that between the excitement of meeting me as Beth, the meal, and the recounting of my tale, I too, was exhausted. My parents left first, and when they were going out the door they reminded us that we were expected for Thanksgiving dinner. "Is Beth welcome, mom?" I asked. "I think Beth is more welcome than that other guy, I even forgot his name," she laughingly said. I smiled happily and Linda standing next to me gave her a big hug. I was surprised when dad too came and gave me a goodby hug. My sister not only hugged me but kissed me on both cheeks, and her husband merely said good by,but he did say, "Good by Beth." Then it was Linda's folks turn to leave. Her mom said to me, "Sissy, you are always welcome at our house. Isn't that right dear?" she said to her husband who was standing alongside of her. He said, "Um. Sissy or Beth, it doesn't matter. Yes, don't even think about it, you are most welcome at our home. Like your mother said, even more so than before." I knew they were lying. What I didn't find out until many years later, was that driving on the way home in their car, their conversation went like this: "Well she, um, he is sort of nice looking. After a while you seem to forget that she,um he is a male. Not a