Heather Willow Book IIChapter 2
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The Will - Part Three free porn video
"PTP - Pre-Transformation Period"
I was now beginning to understand what those words really meant.
It has been almost six weeks since I had voluntarily applied Mother's
lipstick to my male lips in that strange rite of acceptance.
So much has changed.
It is amazing how eating salads and yogurt and fish every day can result
in a 20 lb. weight loss in just six weeks. Still thirty lbs. to go. But
Mother has no worries on that score. She is so happy. She has even been
dieting along with me and has lost five lbs. herself. In just the right
places. Her voluptuous curves have become even more sensual and she has
flaunted her figure to show me what is desired of her son. I will lose
those thirty additional lbs. and be the soft clay, ready to be molded
into the curvy figure Mother desires her son to have. Mother is a hell of
role model.
Since I am losing so much weight, so fast, Mother has hired a
Tailor/Dressmaker to be on constant call to adjust my male clothing to my
new, less than manly, dimensions. Whenever Tessie measures me to adjust
my male clothing to my new size, I have the feeling that her eager
fingers can't wait to measure my bust, waist and hips for a deliciously
flirty cocktail dress. But Tessie will just have to wait. There are still
several months and a breast implant surgery to attend to before she can
encase me satins and crinolines. So do your sewing, Tessie, and leave my
bra size to the future. And with the "D" sized implants I am to have,
Tessie will a nice amount of territory to work with.
It has really been a strange experience, these past few weeks. I know
that I am a male but everything I do is, and is designed to be, feminine.
I have to operate with a male body in a totally female environment.
Mother has been home schooling me in womanly ways. Each day we work to
make, me as a male, to be more female. I think the word is "effeminate".
The way I walk, the way I talk, the words I use, the manner of my hand
movements, the way a fork enters between my lips, the way I sit, the way
I stand, the way I look at my nails, the way I pat my hair in front of a
mirror, the way I go to the restroom, everything about me is changing
under Mother's instructions. It has been a struggle. I AM A MALE! It is
hard to change. I know I must, but it is hard. I would, in the past, have
called the person I am now a Pansy. But now I must call that person -
me.
I haven't had meaningful contact with another male in six weeks. I
haven't seen or read about or played any manly sports since I decided on
the Lipstick Route. I watch only soap operas or Kardasian reality shows
or Project Runway or Ellen on the TV. My reading material is exclusively
Vogue and Glamour and Allure and all the rest of the magazines I have to
read to get a glimpse of what will happen to me in a few months.
Mother so enjoys the evenings that we spend, every couple days, pouring
together over ELLE or ALLURE, with her asking me which bra ad most
appeals to me and why. A man hasn't lived till he has sat with his mother
and discussed the effects a WonderBra would have on that son's boobs. She
quizzes me endlessly about what types of bras and girdles I think would
be most flattering on me, her son. Do I like longline bras? Do I think
OPI nail polish is sexier than ESSIE? Do, I, her son, really need scarlet
lipliner on an everyday basis?
We sit together, Mother in her most revealing peignoir and I dressed as a
25 year old business man, discussing my desired future cleavage and my
expected tampon needs. It is surreal.
Over these past few weeks, Mother has been very busy. My room has been
transformed into a dreamscape for a Fashionista. Silk, satin and ruffles
everywhere. My leather easy chair is gone, replaced by a pink watered
silk daybed, like something Cleopatra would recline in while Anthony
sucked on her toes. My dresser has been replaced by a mirrored lighted
makeup vanity which may have come from the estate of Marilyn Monroe. My
bed contains so much satin and silk that I routinely slide off it each
night, at least once. My shaving mirror had become a full length lighted
mirror on every wall. A bidet has been installed for my future feminine
hygiene. Tessie loves my new room. She has visions of me being fitted
into gorgeous ball gowns in front of those mirrors. My bearskin rug has
been replaced with a pure white deep pile carpet designed to show off the
scarlet painted toenails of whatever lovely young lady dipped her toes
into it. I was to be that scarlet toed lovely young lady.
A spare bedroom had been transformed into a home Beauty Salon. There were
two professional stylist stations for hairstyling and two frighteningly
huge ceiling mounted stainless steel torpedo style hairdryers, direct
from the 50's. There was a manicure station and two pedicure thrones,
covered in white leather. Near the manicure station was a makeup counter
whose stock would be the envy of a Downtown Macy's. Hundreds of lipsticks
and eyeshadows and foundations and whatever else would be needed in the
future to make Mother's tawdry son into Mother's beautiful daughter. One
wall held a collection of 300 hundred glistening bottles of OPI nail
polish. There was a large padded table for waxing and massages and
specialized heat lamps designed to be used during hair coloring. Even
though I was attending Beauty School and would be a licensed Beautician
in a few months, Mother was planning on hiring a Beautician to be on
staff at the mansion to handle my Mother's beauty needs and, of course,
her son's. That is why there were two of a lot of the contents of the
beauty salon. Eventually Mother and Son would be beautified at the same
time, sitting next to each other under extremely hot dryers. The family
that perms together, stays together!
In a room, which was newly built, off the Beauty Salon, was a complete
Gynecological Exam clinic. A massive Exam chair was there with all the
stirrups and leg wings and moving parts which scared the hell out of me.
Sinister gleaming stainless steel instruments covered a table near the
chair. I didn't know the purpose of any of the menacing items arrayed
there, but I am sure I will learn very quickly. I don't know why, but the
Exam chair was equipped with leather restraints for the legs and arms and
wrists and across the chest. I did not like this room. For sure not as a
male and probably I won't like it as a woman. But it was part of my
womanly suite of rooms in the mansion. I would be spending a lot of girly
time in this room. Being a girl was not to be all fun and games. I was
quickly learning that fact. This room would be verification.
I could tell that Mother greatly enjoyed directly the building and
decorating of my new rooms. She would take special delight in explaining
to me the joys and torments I would have in these rooms after the WOT
(Week Of Transformation). Even though I am still outwardly a male, my
inner femininity is really being brought out by Mother's attentions and
instructions. Sometimes I even find myself looking forward longingly to
that WOT so that Mother's and Grandmother's wishes for me may be
fulfilled. The tension is building within this male body which will
erupt, either into a happy blossom of girlhood, or into deep depression.
For now, I have been assimilating womanhood fairly well. As one step in
my PTP, mother has, I guess, hired four young ladies of about my age, to
spend two evenings a week here in the house, playing cards or making
pizzas or just gossiping. all with me included as a male who is quite up
to date on feminine matters. I am sure they have been instructed to hold
nothing back in their conversations. My opinions on Maxi-Pads vs. Tampons
have been thoroughly explored. And I tend to agree will Sally's very
traditional views. We have had heated discussions on up do's for weddings
as opposed to flowing permed waves. My reading of all these woman
magazines has allowed me to keep up with these discussions and, willingly
offer my opinions, which are accepted as one of the group. The most over
the top matter we have discussed is "Is 'No Bra' an acceptable fashion
statement?". Some are all for doing away with their bras. My opinion,
backed up by Mother, is that a woman is not dressed without a bra. I can
assure you that all four of these lovely young ladies will always be
wearing a bra when they visit this home. And soon, even Mother's son will
be joining their ranks. I have grown to love these evenings of feminine
companionship, not as a man, but as a woman. Though it is quite hard to
control myself at times because they are quite beautiful. But I have to
remember that I will be just as beautiful as they shortly. But, Hey!
wasn't there a clause in the Will about a lesbian relationship? Oh Boy!
Modeling classes at Miss Terry's and sewing classes at the local YWCA
began almost immediately after the Lipstick Rite of passage. Though I was
never allowed to wear female clothing, I was totally involved in the
modeling classes, learning proper posture and walking the runways. Hand
modeling and graceful hand movement were a course at which I came to
excel. The girls loved when I walked the runway with my hands aflutter,
just as graceful and feminine as they. I have to say that Tessie may have
to watch out for her job. I loved my sewing classes. I even did some
fashion designing. Mother was so nice to allow me to use her as a
mannequin. I think we bonded even further the first time I disgracefully
stuck a pin into her so soft rump. Nothing is so charming as a son
adjusting the bust darts at his mother's cleavage. Mother promises to
wear my creation the first time Mother and Daughter dine out. I have
great ideas for her accessories. And I know just the heels she will have
to wear. We will have such a good time picking out just the right
foundation garments which will show off my Mother and my design to the
maximum advantage. What a delightful thrill it will be for me to measure
and fit Mother with just the right bra and girdle.
As my hair, which was long for a man to start with, has become even
longer, Mother has allowed me, when attending my classes, to wear my hair
in a high pony tail most of the time. A few times she has even fussed
with my hair before sending me off with a chignon based bun, tightly
placed either at the nape of my neck or perched provocatively at the top
of my crown. Naturally this fashion statement is always while in male
clothing. Thankfully Mother knows that this coiffure statement, while I
am presenting still as a male, allows me to be able to more fully embrace
the femininity to which I have to aspire. Sometimes if my hair is still
arranged as such when the girls come over, they loved to try various
ribbons and barrettes in my do, to try to make me blush. Mother laughs
heartily.
I was so scared the first day I had to attend Audrey's Beauty School.
Mother was so excited that her son was about to enter into a, oh so
feminine, world of beauty. For this occasion Mother fussed with my hair
and installed a chignon bun at the back top of my crown. Just a little
female touch to let the girls at the school know that, even though I was
wearing wingtips and a Brooks Brother's button down, when I put on the
school smock, I would be trying to become one of them.
At first I was a little intimidated by being in a class with 30 young
women. Young women who were all doing their best to show themselves as
perfectly made up and coiffed vixens. There were a few giggles and behind
the hand whispers when I joined their ranks. But soon I was accepted as
just another, rather strange girl, learning wet sets and acrylic nail
design. It did seem that I was singled out more than my share for sitting
as model for the class. But I accepted my position with great good humor
and was liked by the girls for doing so.
The work was very hard. Especially for someone who had to learn even the
most basic female rites for the first time. How do you make a perfect
roller set on someone else when you have never done so on yourself?
Mother was so helpful to me during this time. She allowed me to wash and
set her hair so many times as I practiced for my exams. The first time I
did her makeup was surreal. She was so sweet to allow me to put paint on
a canvas which was so perfect all the time. I didn't do anything to make
her more beautiful, that would have been impossible. But I was able to
create a make up for her, which when she looked in the mirror,
brought tears of joy and happiness to her face. DON'T RUIN YOUR MASCARA,
MOTHER!
For the final exam at the Beauty School, each student brought in a model
for a complete Day Spa Treatment, a shampoo, cut, coloring, wet set,
styling, manicure, pedicure, and total make up application proper for an
evening on the town. Mother agreed to be her son's model for this exam.
My hair, by this time was very long. As I applied the last coat of Candy
Apple Red polish to Mother's toes, my naturally wavy (I had not been
allowed to perm or set my hair until the WOT) locks fell across my eyes
and I pushed the waves back in a feminine manner and looked to see Mother
with a smile on her face like there had never been before. I knew that I
had passed the Beauty School Exam with an A-plus!
Almost three months have now gone by in the PTP. Beauty School has been
mastered to Mother's great joy. I am now a Beautician! A beautician who
loves to model and sew scrumptiously divine frocks. The girls in my bi-
weekly gossip sessions have even asked me to do their hair and makeup and
design matching Hooter's outfits for them. I love being asked to do such
feminine things. I now want to do such feminine things.
My weight has gone down another twenty lbs. in just the right places. My
male clothing, even with Tessie's constant attentions, drape on me
awkwardly. My frame is begging for control and a proper fit. Only a few
months to go. It is strange now, that what I had feared, becoming a
woman, at the start of this process, now was what I longingly dream about
at night. This time as being a male learning to think and act like a
woman is growing ever more stressful. The more I learn, the stronger the
need and desire to put into practice, not on my Mother or my girl
friends, but on myself. Oh, it is so hard to carefully do Mother's lips
and then not do my own. What this PTP was designed to do, it is doing
perfectly. Under Mother's careful tutelage her son is dying now to be her
daughter.
Still three months and a new tutor, a Dominatrix, and a surgery before
that wish is fulfilled. Then my head will be in rollers under that dryer.
Give me the strength to last these next three months. Three months till
Wendy!
Lizbeth
- 18.11.2022
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