Bunny Girls free porn video

Bunny Girls It was 1973 and the UK was entering recession. My new wife and I both found ourselves unemployed and were worrying about the rent payments on our London apartment. My wife is a bit of a stunner, 36/23/36" and as a last resort applied to be a bunny girl at the London Casino. Apparently over 1,000 girls applied but only 50 were chosen. She was successful and as a special treat she wears her new costume for me at home sometimes. It is a bit of a squeeze,...even for her. It is pink satin and I have to help her zip it up at the back. It is very tight at the waist and thrusts her bosom up. In a way it acts like a corset to remodel her figure to accentuate her curves and make her look super feminine and super sexy. She measures 36.5/21/36.5 with the bunny costume on and explains that she has to lose 2 more inches off her waist as in 4 weeks time the costume will be replaced by an even tighter one as all bunnies have to be as trim and shapely as possible and the further weight and waist reduction is essentially part of proving that they are committed to the life of a bunny. She must achieve the reduction to pass her probationary period. I can't believe the curves her uniform gives her as it moulds her figure to an ultra feminine hourglass shape, and I can hardly wait to see the even tighter one. She has fishnet tights with a seam at the back, 5" high stiletto heels, cuffs, collar, bunny ears and a bunny tail. Her bosom is made to look even more impressive than it actually is and the costume also displays her cleavage and behind to good effect. The outfit is high cut at the crotch so she has had to have a Brazilian wax but it is worth it as the overall effect is to give her seemingly longer legs than she already has. I can hardly keep my hands off her when she wears it and as mandatory work uniform goes it has got to be about as sexy and erotic as it is possible to get. One aspect of the work that turns me on so much is that she comes home in costume. Of course to do that she needs to wear a long tailored trench coat and the only sexy bit you can see is her tights and her shoes but somehow the idea that only a thin coat covers her voluptuous steamily sexy body and outfit is very arousing. I am a little concerned that the work has inappropriate, even prostitute like connotations however she re-assures me that the men are not allowed to touch the girls and if they do they can be barred from the club. Dianne explains that all she has to do is look pretty, be friendly and polite, perhaps a little flirtatious, wait on tables, fetching drinks and wiggling her bottom. She has a "Bunny Girl Manual" which explains exactly what is expected of her and I am pleased to read that she is not allowed to fraternise with the clients outside of the club or even share personal information with them when inside the club. So her role is really to be a well paid waitress and sexy eye candy to the wealthy male patrons. The money is good and in reality we have little choice. In discussion it is apparent that she is trapped into this Goddess role but also proud to be chosen and to show off her assets. The only problem for me is that I am not seeing much of her in the evenings and our social life is more or less on hold. One afternoon, after about my hundredth failed job application, she could see I was at a loss. To begin with I enjoyed the break from work and it was made that much better once she got the bunny job as at least we had a roof over our head, but now, 12 months on, I am starting to get a bit depressed. My situation is made worse as although not a completely accurate or politically correct thought, I always saw myself as the man and the breadwinner and now she is keeping me. My self esteem is about as low as it gets. The only things I can do are to clean the house, shop, do the washing, and cook. I figured that at least made her life a little easier and she was grateful, even though it made me feel more like a housewife and somewhat emasculated. I was a kept man and only able to do domestic chores but at least I felt I was contributing something. Occasionally Dianne would say something like "you will make someone an excellent wife one day" or "you make an excellent house maid" but generally she was supportive. I did not feel that I could buy things for myself as much as I previously did when earning, as the situation had changed the dynamic of our relationship and she was controlling the purse strings and 'wearing the trousers', so to speak. "So what are we going to do with you?" she asked sympathetically. "I don't know, I am at a loss," I replied despondently. "You need a project, a purpose," she said. She was right of course but what? "It's a pity you are not a girl as there are more openings at the club!" she said unhelpfully with a cheeky grin. "Only one snag," I replied, "I'm not." "Well if you are not willing to be flexible in your approach you won't get far." she said sarcastically. I knew she was only joking. "I am willing to try anything but I am not sure I have the figure to pull that off!" "Well I don't know, I've always liked your bum. We could experiment, you never know until you try!" "You are joking!" I replied. She was, but she still looked amused at the prospect and gave me a cheeky pinch on the bottom as she walked behind me. She left for work and a few more days went by. "Still no luck on the job front?" "No" "How about trying the bunny option?" "I just couldn't, surely?" "Well, to make it more interesting, and to test your destiny, what if every time you get declined for a job we try one further step towards making you a bunny girl, and if you do not look good we will stop the experiment?" "At the very least we will have some fun trying and it would give you a project and a focus....anyway" she reasoned, "you are pretty much living as a housewife or housemaid so I do not see why we should not build on that and make you better fit the part." I realised she had obviously been thinking about this. There was a hint of distain in her voice and for the first time I started to realise that she was not completely happy with the situation. I was ashamed, part of me acknowledged the logic and part of me felt that as she was now holding the purse strings I should at least try, and yet another part of me was distressed at the prospect of further emasculation ...but I did want to please her. What if she got fed up and chucked me out? Worse still part of me was turned on at the prospect, but I decided that only a defensive response would be appropriate. "So, to recap you want to slowly turn your husband into a bunny girl?" I said, sarcastically. "When you put it like that it does sound a bit crazy but all I am saying is it would be fun, it would give you a challenge, and if it worked, or even partly worked, you might at least be able to get work as a secretary or a waitress, or a cleaner, even if we can't make you sexy enough pull off bunny girl. After all they don't just accept any old girl, they only accept girls that score 9 or 10 you know," she said proudly. "It might be difficult to pull that off but our efforts might spice up our sex life a little too," she added. "Go on be a sport, you never know until you try and I think you could make a cute girl" "The thought has always turned me on slightly" she confided. "Supposing I agree to this mad plan. Where would we start?" "Well, first we would remove your body hair, then do your nails, perhaps some shaping underwear and then have a go at hair and make-up, then, only if things are working out, we could get you dressed up. We would need to get you used to walking in high heels", she said, smirking, "It is not easy you know, and then maybe get your ears pierced, train your voice and possibly......" "Sorry, I missed that last bit, possibly what?" "Well, you have seen the bunny outfit." "Yes." "There is quite an emphasis on the top!" "You mean breasts, how could I get breasts?" "Well, we could pad or I suppose implants might be possible if the rest is working well,.....or possibly hormones." "You can't be serious?" "You have always liked breasts." "Yes, women's breasts, not my breasts." Several more days of unsuccessful job hunting later. "Have you thought about the plan?" "What plan?" I knew exactly which plan, as I had been thinking about it none stop and to be honest I was slightly intrigued and a little turned on but I did not want her to realise I had given it the slightest thought as at some levels it was also deeply embarrassing. "You know the plan to get you a job." "The one involving me getting breast implants?" "That would be a very last step, only if everything else worked out, you are running before you can walk...or thinking about wearing bras before you have even worn the panties....." "You seem very keen on this plan?" "Just exploring all the options,....lets face it you are not finding work as a man, this plan would double your chances and the worst outcome is that I would come home to a sexy she male house maid." She looked positively glowing at the prospect. I had to admit her logic was right but I had already become a sort of housewife and starting to dress as one only emphasised my new position in life. My penis was getting strangely aroused at the prospect though. "You are already taking on the role of housewife," she said, as if reading my mind, "This is only taking the next logical step. Come on, be a sport and don't be so prudish." I was pretty sure she was simply trying to wind me up now and provoke me. "It seems a big step. People would laugh." "Maybe, but that depends how successful we are." "How about we give it another week, and if you still have no job we will take the first steps. That way if you do get a job you can back out. I promise it will remain our secret and you will only go out if I am 100% certain you look the part and will not embarrass yourself." Somehow a week sounded a long time away so I said, "OK, one week but I can pull out if I get another job or if I am not cut out for it." "Fine, let's make a list:" Job rejection letter 1 - hair removal and dieting Rejection 2 - shaping underwear Rejection 3 - nails Rejection 4 - ears pierced Rejection 5- hair Rejection 6- eyebrows/make up Rejection 7- high heels Rejection 8- clothes Rejection 9- hormones and/or breast implants What does "eyebrows" mean? "Well you know us girls pluck our eyebrows to a high arch and shape them. You will need to have that done to pull off the look." I was not that worried because I had applied to be a shop assistant at a new supermarket and thought that even I could not fail that one. A week later the rejection letter arrived. Dianne looked sympathetic but showed a hint of pleasure and poorly covered excitement too. "Ah well, pity, plan B looks like the only option then. I suspect the supermarket prefer women assistants anyway so really it only emphasises the benefits of the plan." I was ushered to the bathroom where she explained that waxing was the most painful but effective way to remove hair. 2 hours later I knew how a Christmas turkey feels,...plucked. I was sore but after a hot scented bath and some lotion I was not too red and I had to admit that I did feel very smooth and clean and I even smelt good. After a nice salad she went to the club and on her return she seemed to still have some energy. The sex was better than usual as I felt so silky smooth against her smooth body. The following day another rejection letter landed on the mat. This was from the local garage. A new low. "Don't worry," she said, "I have the items for the next phase already." "That's a relief," I replied sarcastically. She produced what looked like a panty girdle. It was skin coloured. Naked, she helped me to wriggle into it. She had me spread my legs and bend over. I was shocked as she pulled my penis back, applied some adhesive medical tape from my tummy and pulled that back to hold my penis and up between my butt cheeks and my lower back. She then clipped the crotch hooks and eyes together to hold everything neatly in place. I looked down to see a smooth girly crotch. The panty girdle already improved my figure. Dianne added some silicon falsies and adjusted the bra straps "a C cup" she pronounced with a grin cupping my new bosom. From the neck down I already looked like a woman albeit with an average figure. I was in a slight daze. "Not quite finished," she said with a wry grin. "Us women have to suffer a little for our beauty," she added. "What do you mean, suffer?" I queried wondering about the 'us women' reference. With that she produced a muddle of laces and silky material and asked me to put my hands above my head. "A corset?" I queried. "Is that really necessary?" "Yes," she explained, "on two fronts,...one it will improve your new girly figure and give you an hourglass shape, like mine, and two, once laced up it will help you limit your food intake as eating will simply make it more painful. Then the less you eat the more we can reduce your waist and so on." "Painful?" I queried. "Yes. You will need to be tightly laced at all times from now on, and as we progressively tighten the laces, so your figure will become more womanly and at the same time there will simply be less space for food!" I gulped, I was shocked but for some unknown reason I was also turned on although my penis was firmly secured. Step 2 seemed to be rapidly advancing me towards all things female with a panty girdle, breasts, a crotch and now a corset. She gradually laced me in and I could see my stomach project out slightly and my breasts thrust a little higher. After 20 minutes of adjusting and tightening I felt positively crushed. "Now I know how a tube of toothpaste feels!" I mused. "Well," she said, "there is a third advantage and that is that to earn our keep I have to squeeze into that bunny costume each evening and so now you can share the experience and also we can diet together." Next she allowed me to sit down, although sitting down was more like sitting bolt upright as I could no longer slouch because of the corset. "Nice posture," she beamed. She rolled some beige stockings up my legs and once standing helped me attach the garters. She explained how to roll them up to avoid ladders. "Right, you are done. That's phase 2, you can get dressed now," she said matter of factly with a wry grin. I looked in the mirror and from the neck down I looked like a fairly attractive woman in her underwear. Not the most shapely, sexy woman ever, but definitely with curves in all the right places. I had killer legs. There is something so sexy and feminine about stockings too. I was getting turned on looking at this woman but the woman was me. My mind was in a whirl and I was a little short of breath from the excitement and the corset. I put my jeans and sweat shirt back on. My jeans did not really fit properly, my crotch looked all wrong and I had to tighten my belt 4 holes passed normal but that was the least of my trouble. My new breasts jutted proudly out so that I looked like a woman in casual wear even though I was wearing men's outer garments, my shape was all woman. "Are these going to show when I go shopping?" I said, looking at the protruding mounds and knowing full well the answer. She grinned. "You could wear a jumper? And maybe your coat will help?" she suggested helpfully. She was right, with a heavy coat and jumper you could not really tell that I had breasts and the coat also covered my crotch. "Now that you know you can go outside ok your first task is to take your underpants and socks to the rubbish bin. They are all worn out anyway and I want to reduce the temptation to revert back." That sounded very final to me but I complied. Now I only had female underwear. Off she went to the club. She came in and I made her her usual cup of tea. She looked at my waist. "It is not as small as I remember?" she queried. I had to admit I had loosened the laces to reduce the pressure but re-assured her I was enjoying the overall experience. "I am glad," she said. "But we will never train your waist if you keep cheating!" She went to the storage cupboard and I could tell she had retrieved something but she would not show me what. Instead she got me to lie face down on the bed and she carefully re-laced my corset. "Steady on," I gasped. She ignored me and I was sure tightened it even more than before. I was starting to feel cut in two when she declared me done. She then retrieved a heavy chromed steel chain and pulled it tight around my waist. I heard a click and found that I was now secured into the corset or at least I could loosen the laces by cutting them but my waist would be held in position by the padlocked chain. She had looped the padlock around the laces at the rear so I could not even attempt to pick the lock as I could not get to it. I realised it would also be quite painful to loosen the corset and I was better off leaving that fully laced to spread the compression. I was now effectively locked into women's underwear. I was in quite a predicament but had to acknowledge that I was no longer depressed, I was too pre-occupied to remain depressed. "Much safer," she declared. "What if I want to back out?" "Can I remind you that you are only backing out if you do not look good and so far, despite your lack of discipline, you do look good. Your legs are better than mine!" she said with an air of finality. She seemed so definite and determined that I knew right there she intended to drive the plan home, but how far? She retrieved a tape measure and took my measurements. "38, 27, 36,...not bad for day one. Keep this up and at least I know you intend to try, I think I might start to lose the plot if we carried on as we were." For the first time I realised that there was a veiled threat to our relationship if I backed out plus she had made that difficult by locking me into the corset. I slept in the corset and panty girdle. We cuddled. I found that I wanted to caress her body so much more than usual and she wanted to caress mine. It was sort of like lesbian sex. Our breasts squished together and our smooth crotches rubbed gently. I kissed her more tenderly. She responded. I found that by sucking her off I also orgasmed. "I love my she male," she said. In the morning she got me to shower and change to a fresh girdle before lacing me back up. I noticed that the soap in the bathroom had become all scented soap and my aftershave had gone and been replaced with perfume. I sprayed some on. She laced me back up "38, 26.5, 36" she measured and replaced the "safety chain" and I noticed the padlock key hung around her neck. I found a rejection letter from the garage job on the doormat. She asked me what it was and I reluctantly confessed. "I see, stage 3 already then." She shaped my nails with a file. After 45 minutes I had clear shiny fingernails and bright red toe nails. "Don't bite your finger nails" she quipped. "I have gone for the clear finger nail varnish so you can still pass as male, but if you bite them that could change." I noticed that in combination my red toe nails made the stockings seem even more feminine. I did the grocery shopping. I felt my bottom was wiggling more than usual and I paid carefully to avoid giving the shop assistant time to study my nails. My feminine figure and crotch was obscured by my coat. I was about to go and she handed me some vouchers for discounts on cosmetics and said, "I don't know if these are of any interest?" She held my stare for a moment longer that normal, I blushed and could only think to say "thanks". I returned home and spent the day applying for some more jobs. My eye was increasingly drawn to roles such as secretary, waitress, care assistant, hairdresser, nail bar assistant, shop assistant in a women's fashion store. Dianne was right, I now had a greater selection. I took a chance and went for the nail bar, shop assistant and waitress roles based on the fact that they were all within easy distance of our apartment. I called myself Priya as at least that gave me the same initial as my real name, Peter. By the end of the week I had become more accustomed to wearing the corset although Dianne had carefully tightened it to keep it rib crushingly tight. I noticed that not only did my waist look smaller but my torso was looking more slender too and she was right I simply could not eat as much. I observed two new panty girdles appear in my wardrobe that looked slightly smaller and more elasticated than my original, four new corsets appeared also, I could see two were smaller than the original and two were even smaller again. My shape started to look even more feminine and less acutely nipped in at the waist. She said that my rib cage was starting to be compressed slightly and that made my torso more feminine and more in keeping with my shrinking waist line. By Friday she declared, "37.5, 25.5, 36, - good progress". Saturday morning, there were three letters on the doormat. 1) - Dear Priya - We would like to interview you for the part time nail bar job on 20th March at 10am. Please come with your most fabulous nails as these will be assessed as part of the interview. 2) - Dear Priya - We would like to interview you for the part time job of sales assistant in our Oxford Street store. Please present yourself as well groomed as you can as presentation is important to our clients and your appearance will be part of the interview evaluation. The interview is on 20th March at 2pm. 3) - Dear Priya - Thank you for your application we would like to interview you for the evening waitress job at our London restaurant. Please come to an interview at 6pm on 20th March. 4) Dear Peter - Thank you for your application for a car sales assistant. Since you applied I regret to inform you that the post has been filled. Dianne looked amused. "That's quite a dilemma," she said. Only one rejection letter so no male job interview but then 3 female ones in 3 weeks time. The next stage is pierced ears but we would really need to take it further than that and more quickly if you are to stand a chance at the interviews?" "Mmmmm," I said, biting my nails, not wanting to commit but following the logic. Dianne pointed out that biting my nails was hardly the look the nail bar would expect and also that applying nails professionally was an acquired skill and that I had 3 weeks to learn that too if I wanted the job. She also pointed out that I had applied for over 100 jobs and had never even been asked to a single interview. She resisted the urge to point out that her plan had worked but did say "You realise that to get any of the jobs you would need to pass as a convincing woman and probably an attractive one as these sort of interviews place a lot of weight on an attractive appearance even though they never explicitly say that in the advert. The sales job does hint at it quite strongly though." She observed. "I have no doubt that is true,....where would we start?" She looked pleased. "Well I think we are going to need some professional help if you are game?" "OK," said a distant voice. She rang a beauty spar and booked me in. She explained that I was transitioning and needed all the help I could to move from part time female to full time. It sounded weird to hear her say that and although a lie, I had to wonder whether it was a total lie or in fact if you strip away the charade it was actually basically the truth? The appointment was a few days off and she started by getting me down to my underwear. I tried some of her stretch skirts, knitted dresses, blouses and tops. Each new outfit triggered a spell of caressing and cuddling. We were so sexually aroused by this whole adventure. I ended up with a black velvet stretch skirt and purple polyester blouse. She let me borrow a wide patent black leather belt to accentuate my waist. It just fitted on the last eye hole. "We could do with getting your waist down some more," she observed. "So you fit the belt better! It will be such fun to share clothes and shop together, you are like my sexy lesbian lover, girlfriend and husband all rolled into one." I would have had a serious erection however my penis was well and truly taped into place and so I just felt very horny. In fact I was more or less permanently aroused but seemed to oscillate between slightly aroused and extremely aroused depending on what was happening. "The best thing to use the next few days before the appointment is to practice walking in heels and speaking" she said, positioning a strappy 4" heel platform shoe on my left foot. These are a little tight for you but will do for some basic practice. But from now on, you will need to wear high heels. It will hurt but I think we will have to go 24/7 to ensure that your feet and legs become fully adjusted to the required position. With this she produced some more chains. She carefully looped one around my ankle and then another over my arch and under the shoe between the heel. She then pulled these and carefully secured the chains with a padlock to the back of my ankle chain. "Sorry," she said. "But I think you will inevitably want to take them off, especially when I go out, and I will probably weaken too so the act of unlocking them will help remind us both of the commitment needed. I do have some high heeled boots and some platform peep toes that we can swap with these to give your feet a rest as the straps on these can dig in." Next she got me to the sink and started plucking my eyebrows, 30 minutes of careful plucking later, my face seemed to look decidedly feminine. "Wow such a difference," I commented. "Yes it helps bring out the girl in you as only women tend to shape their eyebrows that thin and high. Don't worry they will grow back....if you ever want them too, that is." There was something odd and dismissive about her tone and reading between the lines it dawned on me that she had already decided I never would. Next she pressed something against my ear and I flinched, "Ouch." "Sorry, but all modern girls have pierced ears," she said adding a second hole. "They should heal up in 3 weeks." "You only have one per ear," I queried. "Yes but very girly girls usually have more than one and we are trying to ensure that there is no question about your sex," she said, adding a third hole, and repeating the procedure in the other ear. She got me to watch TV sales channels selling women's clothes and makeup. The only difference was that she used the rewind and pause function so that I could repeat whatever the presenter was saying. Once I had copied the words and mannerisms and movements in a feminine way she moved onto the next section. This also gave me a wider knowledge of clothes and shoes and expressions and terms that women use, particularly relevant to the clothes shop job. It also helped train my voice to flow in a more feminine way and at a higher pitch. "Forget housework," she said, "for the next few weeks I want you to spend all your time practicing copying the female presenters and the models." We had an exercise treadmill and she suggested that I try walking a greater distance in heels on this. She suggested 5 miles a day. She did keep a close eye on my feet and let me bathe them whilst also regularly changing shoes to spread the wear. To begin with my calves ached but after a few days it felt natural to wear heels and I could walk quite confidently. Three days later I tottered down the street wearing 4" heels and we made our way to the beauty spar. She had removed my chains for the outing as I had little incentive to remove the shoes or corset when out. My walking was quite good now and the corset and shoes seemed to cause my behind to sway more whilst the heels also tended to ensure a shorter more feminine gait. Dianne leant me her denim crop jacket and handbag and a spare purse and some bangles, a necklace and a spare watch and these accessories all helped complete my new look. I still had gold ear studs only whilst the holes heeled. She had helped me apply some foundation, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara and eye shadow but had kept it basic to avoid a slutty look. I now had bright red finger nails though. She had given me a pink scarf to cover my hair and I easily passed as female, only attracting admiring glances. My painted toe nails were visible in the strappy toe peeps of my shoes so that from head to toe I was looking quite the young lady. Strangely I had started carrying my hands differently and held my bag with a limp wrist. I was conscious that somehow the clothes and accessories were causing me to have more feminine mannerisms. The air rushed around my legs as my heels clicked and I realised that everything about me both looked and sounded female. "Don't worry," she said, "you already look good enough to pass." Under the constant corseting and dieting my figure had come in at 37", 24.5", 35.5" and I realised by the looks from most men that I was more than averagely attractive and had a better figure than most women. The cropped jacket accentuated my small waist and torso and showed my behind which on reflection was quite nicely shaped, as Dianne had originally pointed out. At the salon I was greeted with kindness and positive comments. "You look so cute but don't worry though, I promise we can make you even more pretty than you already are." It sounded so strange to me but I was also intrigued and turned on at the remark and at what would follow to fulfil the promise. I was a little scared to enter this female sanctuary but started to realised that people were seeing me as female and accepting me as such. They gave me a pink smock and sat me down on a salon chair. First my hair was washed, then hair extensions were added. This took several hours and all I could do while I waited was browse the women's magazines that lay to hand. They seemed more relevant than usual and I studied the make up articles and fashions with renewed interest. Then my hair was dyed a reddish mahogany colour with layered highlights, and next it was styled and finally put into curlers and dried. I was given bangs and had long flowing tresses. The colour and length were extremely feminine and with my eyebrows already shaped and the bangs my faced looked entirely feminine now even without makeup. Next I was led to a padded table and stripped naked. They spent several hours plucking me with laser hair removal tools. I was concerned about the further work on my eye brows as these were checked and even more hairs removed. "Isn't that permanent?" I queried. "Not really but it does slow re-growth down and thin it out. Over your next 3 to 5 appointments it should be mainly permanent," they explained re-assuringly. I am not sure I found this re-assuring as I was becoming a woman and although I remembered that is what they had been told by Dianne that I wanted, I do not ever recall actually making that decision. I started to realise that this change was beginning to become slightly irreversible. I felt scared but to some extent also pleased and excited. I reasoned that if I did not want this I would get up and run although I suspected that if I did that Dianne would also leave me. I let them continue and so I recognised that I had in practice decided to become a woman or at least to present myself as a woman. Once this was complete I re-dressed and was led to the nail bar. Emily, the nail technician explained the various nail options to me, gel, acrylic, length, etc and at this stage it was felt best that I was given 1/4" acrylic nail extensions with a gel overlay. She explained that these would allow my nails to grow out and that in time the extensions may become unnecessary. The only down side was that these were special commercial products could only be removed by special chemicals at the salon. They are very durable, almost indestructible. Emily explained the process step by step as Dianne had asked that I be talked through it. First she stripped my lovely red nail varnish and then attended to my cuticles and roughed my nails slightly. Then she applied glue and fixed the tips into place. Next she applied a gel layer and dried that under a special light and this was repeated several times until the nail was totally smooth but thicker. She explained that this would need to be checked ideally 2 weekly or 3 weekly at a pinch as my nail would grow out and so the gap between the gel and my nail bed would need to be filled. Then she applied a sparkly light brown colour and these were dried under special lamps. She then used transfers to give my nails a very sluttish leopard print finish. Then several coats of hard clear lacquer were applied to seal and protect. My nails could have been regarded as ultra sexy but somehow they also achieved a sophisticated look as they were so beautiful and perfectly finished. I was led back to the salon chair and my make up was removed and re- applied. Semi permanent eyeliner was used and false lashes were glued on to give me an ultra feminine look. My eyes were truly beautiful and looked so large. My lips were injected so that they were very pouted, and with lipstick and sealer, soon very red and very shiny. Dianne arrived and had also had the full treatment and looked drop dead gorgeous. "Wow, look at you girl," she explained. "You look fab yourself," I replied. I could tell the whole process was making Dianne horny and my penis was doing its best to erect in its panty girdle confines. As we walked away from the salon I could tell men were gawping at the two of us. I am pretty sure one car that screeched to a halt and nearly rear ended the car in front was down to the driver looking at the two of us and not the road. We even got a wolf whistle when we passed a building site. "You are looking very sexy today," I said to Dianne. "You are quite the hotty, too," she replied. "I am going to make passionate lesbian love to you when I get you home." My penis was leaking precum quite badly and I orgasmed as I wiggled and clicked along with my hair blowing in my face from time to time and my flicking it away, catching a glimpse of my super sexy hands and the jangle of bangles as I did so. We did make passionate love. I ate her out and she rubbed my crotch. The sex was awesome. She helped shower me and look after my new tresses. Once re-laced she presented me with a silky strappy nightie with leopard skin print. "To match your nails," she beamed. I realised she had been planning ahead again. She bought me a very sexy maids outfit and some 5" stilettos and Wednesday was my cleaning day she explained. She bought me a rubber cat suit and some ballet boots, a bondage glove, neck corset, ball gag and ankle and knee cuffs. Monday was to be my rest and bondage day. She bought me an exercise bike and a purple one piece spandex cat suit. Friday was gym day. Tuesday and Thursday were shopping days and we loved to visit different shopping centres and spent hours trying on shoes, skirts, dresses and every imaginable combination. My vital statistics were "37, 23.5, 35". I had never felt healthier and I was very adept at walking in high heels and in fact felt uncomfortable without them. I discovered that eating less makes you more healthy. The fact that I had lost weight down to 125lbs meant that my footsteps were lighter and this made walking in heels easier. My ears had healed and I had multiple sets of hoops and matching triple earring sets, several nice dress rings and lots of bangles. There was something very sexy about 100 little bangles on my wrist dangling and chinking to my every move. No male clothes remained in my wardrobe which had slowly been displaced by my ever increasing array of female clothes. One Friday she decided she would tie me to the exercise bike and said she was going out for a few hours but by the time she was back wanted to see 50 miles cycled and if I achieved that then she had a treat for me. This was such a turn on as my penis was squashed flat against the padded bicycle seat and cycling rubbed me to near orgasm but not beyond so I spent two horny hours with the butt plug only making me more frustrated. The seat was adjusted so that I could only reach the pedals on tip toe and this helped further condition me to the high heels I was also wearing. I had worked up quite a sweat by the time she returned. 51 miles. When she got back she said she had a surprise. She went to the bedroom and returned in a satin red bunny suit. I could tell that she had collected it and worn it back from the club under her coat. It was the new 2" smaller suit and she proudly announced that she was 36/19/35 with its corseting effect. My mouth dropped open, she was even more sexy than I thought possible. Super curvy and super sexy. "And you know what that means!" she said, beaming. "What?" "My old costume is looking for a new home." My penis jumped to attention, or at least would have done if not trapped between my legs. I instinctively followed her to the bedroom, almost shaking with anticipation and excitement whilst mesmerised by her tiny waist and shiny wiggling behind. She helped me out of my corset and panty girdle and I took a shower. "Now you know why you needed a serious exercise workout, this will be a squeeze!" She helped me tape my penis back and also taped over the inserted butt plug. She helped me tape around my chest so that all available fat could be pushed above the tape to create an illusion of cleavage. I was liberally sprinkled with talc. As I sat down and pointed my toes she rolled the mandatory black seamed fishnet tights up my legs. Even without corseting I was quite shapely. I stood and turned around and she carefully straightened the seams. She held the satin pink costume out and I stepped into the leg openings. I was breathing heavily and she was panting slightly too. It was easily the most erotic none love making thing we had ever done. She carefully drew it up me and I had to wriggle to get it over my hips and behind. It was going to be a tight squeeze. The crotch came to bear down severely on my penis and I became smooth and girly and the butt plug was thrust ever deeper. I loved the way the costume widened and smoothed my crotch and gave that classic female gap between my legs in silhouette. She started to zip me up but we had to work at my sides to inch the zip higher. After 10 minutes of very careful joint effort she patted me on my bottom and said, "That's my girl, you are in!" Then she helped insert my silicon breast forms. When standing straight in front of the mirror I sported a lovely clean cleavage created by the fat that had been squeezed up with the falsies just filling out the outfit. The costume was so sculpted and feminine that my ultra hourglass figure left no doubt as to my womanhood. I was not quite as curvy as Dianne but then she had a head start, I was definitely into goddess territory though. My crotch was even tighter as the costume gripped my waist which drew it still tighter. When I bent forward or sat it was tighter still. I was in frustrated ecstasy. When I bent forward more, the false breasts were revealed just slightly at the sides. Dianne said, "And that is why implants are the only way forward." I smiled, a knowing, agreeable smile, utterly lost to the inevitability of the next step and almost with a frustrated urgency at the need to complete the illusion or in fact complete the new me. I stepped into some stiletto heels and she added bunny collars, cuffs, tail and ears to complete the look. With a final cheeky pinch of my bottom she declared me "done". I had never really agreed to becoming a woman but I had to admit I had not protested much once we got started. I reasoned I still had my penis so it was more like playing dress-up. My lack of hair and particularly my permanently feminine eyebrows were really all that prevented me going back. Strangely, why eyebrows are such a small thing, mine were so strikingly female that I could see that was a hurdle to my return. If I was being honest I was happy and did not want to return. We spent the next 2 hours wearing protective aprons and playing with our make up. Once satisfied we revealed the full result and a pair of stunningly beautiful bunnies appeared before us. She pointed out that if I was successful as a bunny then I would be expected to drop a size after the first few weeks. I wondered if that was even possible. We fell into endless kissing and caressing, exploring every extreme voluptuous curve again and again. We slept in each others arms in utter contentment. Several visits to the spa later I had been able to get some help from them in different nail techniques and also practiced on Dianne at home. The bunny outfit was not such a squeeze now and when wearing skirts the original wide belt Dianne had leant me was drawn to its smallest hole. This gave me a small and elongated waist which was very sexy. For the interviews I wore a dark burgundy pencil skirt, cream blouse and matching burgundy jacket. My nails were ?" plain burgundy too but I made sure they were beyond perfect. With my matching burgundy stiletto shoes, snatch bag and sultry eyes I was the shapely sexy business woman but with a sophisticated, understated air. 1) "We love your look, so subtle, your nails are beautiful and understated. Could you start 2 weeks on Monday working 2 to 5pm? You would need to dress a little more provocatively though to show your clients you have the stylish sexy edge they want, are you ok with that?" I nodded, I actually preferred more provocative clothing and the idea of spending my time dressed that way for money seemed too good to be true. 2) "You are perfect, would you be ok modelling our "sex kitten" range as part of your role? Could you start 2 weeks on Monday working 9 to 12?" I nodded, I was excited at the prospect of access to a new, free and sexy wardrobe. 3) "You look fabulous, can you try out some of our new waitress outfits to ensure you have a good fit and then report 2 weeks on Monday working 7pm to 11pm?" I nodded, I went to a changing room to try the outfit and could tell that the restaurant was really playing on the sexy look of its waitresses. It was really like a slightly more muted version of the bunny club. Needless to say I looked the part and filled the outfits in all the right places. The black skirt was just above the knee but was made of silk and limited my leg movement. It was nipped in at the waist and a tight squeeze on my hips and bum. This was such a turn on. It forced me to walk with a wiggle effectively limiting my gait. In the following days all three sets of employment contracts arrived and I would earn ?6,000 at the fashion store plus 10% commission on sales and with a 25% store discount card which would be useful. ?5,000 at the nail bar with free nail and beauty treatments every fortnight. And ?5,000 at the restaurant plus tips. They estimated the tips to be worth ?5,000 to ?10,000 if I did well. So the bottom line was that I could earn up to ?30k per year with some fringe benefits on the proviso that I did not mind spending my week as a stylish and sexy sales assistant, slutty looking nail technician and mincing around dressed in a tight waitress outfit that showed off my curves and limited my gait....I would be paid to be in heaven. Dianne was beaming and to her credit still managed to avoid saying "I told you so". She did point out that there was just time to get breast implants which would be mainly healed just in time to start. "I have booked an appointment," just in case, she chimed. And so it was that the following day I was being examined. The surgeon was more than happy to proceed on a man, given that I was clearly at an advanced stage of transitioning. He also recommended a course of hormones and blockers and asked if I had considered castration or full gender re-assignment. I gulped, wriggled on my seat and explained that I might want to keep my penis. He said that was a common choice and there was no pressure but he did point out that the hormones and blockers could have the effect of chemically castrating me in 3 to 6 months and that would be irreversible. I nodded my understanding. Another irreversible aspect to this experiment, I thought. By way of encouragement and support Dianne said that she thought the benefits would outweigh the losses. So my fate was sealed. The following evening I was lying in bed with a sore chest wearing a very supportive bra. My penis felt strange and I asked if that was normal. I was informed that castration was a minor operation but could leave me sore for a while. I was dumb struck. Somehow thinking back to the conversation the day before I realised that when I nodded that had been taken as my agreement to be castrated. I was shocked but as I lay in bed with my mind reeling at the implications I realised that there was no going back so what was the point in making a fuss? I suppose I would be even neater in the crotch department and the nurse explained that the hormone treatment would be easier to manage without the need for blockers. My cleavage was great and I felt very feminine and kept cupping my own breasts partly in disbelief. A bit tender though. I returned home on lighter duties but kept up the corseting and light housework and high heels of course. On the day before my work start, Dianne wanted to try out the bunny costumes again. She repeated the previous ritual and soon I was standing there looking at a pair of stunning bunny girls. We were so curvy. The only difference was that this time my cleavage was real. I was so pleased. We loved my new breasts. When we hugged our breasts were thrust together and we spent ages playing with each others nipples and sending shudders of pleasure through our bodies. I used a strap-on on her and she returned the favour. Sometimes I would orgasm when I wore the strap on and in many ways it was just like old times. To the world we were two beautiful women, lesbian lovers but we were also husband and wife. We felt we had it all and more than most people could understand or appreciate. I started work and she measured me at 36.5"/22/34.5 in my corset. It had clearly compressed my upper torso which was now beautifully tapered too. I worked hard over the next 6 months and under the hormone treatment my skin softened and nipples enlarged. My hair seemed thicker and shinier and my skin was softer and flawless. I decided to have a nose job and ended up with a very girly cute button nose. They flattened the bones above my eyes, shaped my chin and removed my lower ribs whilst I was in. The bunny costume fitted even better after this and we could even foresee the possibility I might squeeze into her extra small one. My torso and upper body looked even thinner and more feminine and my significant breasts gave me curves that most women can only dream of and that most men would die for. I was getting a little tired from the hours and earnt about ?35k/annum as my tips and commission were so good. I was seriously good at flirting and that helped. I could tell most of the male customers to the restaurant fancied me, even the ones there with their girlfriends and wives but I knew not to cross the line with any men who were with their ladies but I could dance around that line with great skill and charm. I did get one or two couples who were into swinging but I resisted such advances as I was a one woman woman or a one woman man woman anyhow. Overall though the income was only the same as Dianne who worked half my hours as a bunny. One day she announced an opening at the club and got me an interview. I got the job and so we spent our evenings waiting tables and entertaining guests in our ultra sexy ultra curvy little bunny outfits and stiletto heels. Little did the guest know that two of the bunny girls were actually husband and wife. We always wore the outfits home under our coats and somehow a long concealing coat over an ultra sexy little satin costume is very sexy in itself. This was even more true once after a little more weight loss and corseting I did manage to squeeze into the same size costume as Dianne. The Club never found out that I was actually a bunny boy. Our marriage and sex life had never been better and we could afford all sorts of holidays, clothes and shoes such that our apartment became too small. We moved to a larger one that had 3 very large bedrooms. We used one for our clothes and shoes and dressing room, one for our make up area and slept together in the main bedroom. After a while at another visit to the salon, I was surprised to be told they were going to try a new makeup. Subsequently it became apparent that I had been given permanent makeup, red lips, eye liner and feminine eyebrows. Dianne explained that this would save time and she also admitted that she was keen to ensure that any plans I had to return to male were another step further away. We even bought a pink cabriolet sports car and we looked so hot when we drove around. The men gawped but never touched and little did they know we had all we ever needed. All rights reserved 22 11 14 Priya Mistery