Caregiver (Part 2) free porn video

CAREGIVER Part II by Natalie Finn In this second installment of Caregiver, a short story by a new author, Shawn's older sister continues to dominate him. Shawn has a second strange dream, this one more frightening than the first. He has his first romantic feelings and his first date, but his world continues to be quite strange in other respects. The Resistance I dreamt I was a strong fisherman in a row boat, struggling against a huge silver fish. The stormy sky was becoming dark. Soon stars would appear. I had been fighting the fish for hours. I would pull against the thick fishing line with my gloved hands, feeling like my arms would rip away from my body, feeling the large muscles in my back and legs as I pushed against the sides of the boat with both of my bare feet, resisting the pull of the magnificent fish. The fish would jump high out of the water and I could see his shiny silver body and long spear of his nose, before he fell back into the water with a giant splash. I pulled with all my might and the fish jumped again and dove. Sometimes he would swim at my small boat and hit the sides with his huge tail, or try to spear me on the long sword of his nose. When he hit my boat, the wooden spars would groan and scream in protest under the stress, and other times I could hear the wood crack and splinter. My boat began to take on water, and I looked through the gloom, trying to see the lights of shore. I fought the fish all night. In the morning I opened my eyes and the fish and the fishing line were both gone. I awoke sitting in my boat, bloody water half way to the gunnels of my little craft. I saw a deep gash in my thigh and another in my waist. I screamed. I looked over the edge of the boat at the calm, blue water. Three large sharks came in close to my boat and the biggest one bumped the hull, showing a grinning mouth of sharp teeth. I no longer had the will to fight. I woke up with sun streaming into my bedroom. I pushed back my bed clothes and saw the silky camisole and tap pants I was wearing. I remembered the cooking class with Jacqueline and my late-night conversation with Marilyn. I pictured the humiliating, feminine situations I had been put in the day before. I slipped out of my lingerie and threw them in the corner. "I don't think I'll ever wear those things again," I thought. "What a trip!" I put on my thick glasses, and naked, went into the bathroom and looked at the acne cleanser and the inflamed acne on my face. "No improvement that I can see," I thought. I decided not to treat my acne. I went back to my bedroom and opened my dresser. The top drawer, I noted with disdain, contained only women's underwear and a few tops and skirts. The other drawers contained my black outfits and white outfits that looked a bit feminine, too. The other drawers were empty except for a single pair of blue jeans. My closet had only a few skirts hanging and a white smock. On the floor of my closet, I saw several pairs of shoes, my medium-heeled espadrilles and a few women's heels. What am I going to wear? I thought, irritated. The silk pajamas on my chair, and the blue jeans were the only somewhat masculine things in the whole room. "Marilyn," I called out, "where are all my boy clothes?" No answer. I groaned. I pulled open top drawer and pulled out one of the white no- line panties and slid them up my smooth legs. I remembered that Marilyn knew about my tiny penis and had actually apologized and commented that I might never be able to please a woman or have babies. I again felt the humiliation of my small penis as I adjusted my panties, presenting a completely flat crotch and my smooth hips. I must cover my legs somehow, I thought. I pulled open the third drawer again and pulled out the blue jeans. I pulled them on, but they were much snugger in the crotch than any of my jeans. I pulled them up to my waist anyway. I felt a tight compression on my tiny cooked macaroni as it squeezed up into my crotch. I pulled the jeans up again and noticed they created a completely flat, girlish front. I turned and looked in the mirror and noticed the bubble of my butt and hips. I put on the pajama top, its cream colored silk clinging to my chest and waist, and extending down to my hips. I buttoned all of the round silk buttons. My jeans were dragging a bit on the ground, but I certainly wasn't going to put on any heels. I rolled the bottom three inches to make a rolled cuff. Unfortunately, my toes still sported the French manicure. I checked my finger nails. They too, glistened. I went back to my bathroom and looked for some polish remover or some alcohol. Nothing. I have to remember to do something about that, I pledged. My hair disheveled and my long bangs standing straight up, I walked downstairs and saw my mother and Marilyn on the patio. I retrieved the shears from a kitchen drawer and cut some white roses from the garden and put them in a fresh vase. I looked at the shears and thought, Maybe I should cut my bangs! Instead, I carried the vase out to the table, and kissed my Mom and Marilyn each on the cheek and said good morning. "It's 10 am, sleepy head," she said, putting a purple pill on my plate next to a piece of toast. There was a tall glass of the green slime. "There's warm oatmeal if you want it on the stove. Did you sleep well?" "I actually did. I dreamt I was a fisherman," I replied, smoothing down my hair a bit. "Well, drink your juice and take you acne pill," she said, eyeing my jeans and silk pajama top. I thought about declining, but instead, just took the pill and swallowed the entire glass of juice in one long guzzling gulp. I put down my glass and beat my chest like Tarzan. "Me feel very strong today!" I said with as low and grumbly a voice as I could muster. It didn't have the desired effect. I just couldn't generate a low voice. Mother looked over at me. "You know you were a very nice girl yesterday taking me to the hospital in your pretty smock with your nicely arranged hair, your pretty hands and legs and new shoes." "Oh, I almost forgot," I said dimly. "And then at dinner, you looked so radiant and beautiful in your maroon top and black skirt," Mom said. "Thanks, Mom," I said, hoping everyone would just forget yesterday. "Your legs are so pretty. When we can see them again?" she exclaimed. "I hate to see you wearing jeans like that, sweetie. A pretty girl should really show her legs if she has nice ones." "I'm not a girl, Mom," I said calmly. "Yesterday was special, because I love you. But I don't think we should plan on doing that again." I looked at her, feeling my determination bubbling to the surface. I kept my face calm and pleasant. "I told him that would be fine, Mom," Marilyn said. Mom frowned and sighed and looked out to the garden. "Shawn, as I think I mentioned last night, I'd like you to go an optometrist and try some contact lenses." I nodded as I looked around the table. "Also I saw last night that you're almost done with your free sample treatments of the acne medication, and I don't want you running out. That would set you back. I think it's really helping your acne and redness, and I think we should go ahead and plunk down some money and do this thing right. So I need to send you over to Clinique to pick up some more." "I don't think it's working. It's probably a big waste of money," I said, reaching for a jar of strawberry jam that sat in front of my mother. She ignored my comment. "You know, since you're going to be there anyway, you might want to ask Jacqueline if she can join you at the mall, Marilyn said conversationally. "She's such a wonderful girl. I really like her. Why don't you invite her to tea or ice cream or something?" At the unexpected mention of Jacqueline's name, I jerked, fully awake, almost dropping my knife as I absently spread jam on a piece of toast. It clattered loudly onto my plate. Mother glared at me. Suddenly, into my head swam a picture of my beautiful classmate and cooking teacher in her orange sundress, slender shoulders and silk-tied pony tail. I said dumbly, "You mean ask her to have tea with me?" "Of course, silly. Don't you think she's pretty? I think you two might really hit it off together. She seemed to really like you." I thought about the shamelessly feminine way I was dressed the previous evening. "You mean a date?" I asked. Mom dreamily glanced to Marilyn and then me. "No, I mean meet at the mall for a snack. It's nothing. Just a get together. You're at the mall anyway. Why? Are you nervous?" she asked, teasing me, but smiling. "No," I said, nervously. "I just don't feel like I should ask her on a date. I mean she's the prettiest girl in the whole school. Also, she saw me wearing a skirt last night!" "It's not a date," she said, and then she picked up her cell phone and touched the screen a few times. "It's ringing," she announced, while I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Hi Jacqueline! It's Marilyn! Thank you for last night. It was everything I dreamed it would be. Shawn wanted to thank you, too, and ask you a question." She handed the phone to me. My heart was thumping like a big Japanese drum. I thought about Jacqueline's beautiful face and her long brown silken hair. My tiny macaroni, Mr. Pinky stirred weakly in my panties. I tried to focus on forming my thoughts and my words. I exhaled. I inhaled. "Hi Jacqueline, last night was great. Listen, I need to go over to the mall tomorrow and I wondered if you'd like to grab a cup of tea or something, you know, if you were out and about?" Marilyn nearly dropped her fork, she was so impressed at how casually and confidently I delivered the invitation. I heard Jacqueline's sweet voice say, "I work prep at the restaurant tomorrow during the day, but I'd love to do it today after my cooking class. Can you meet at 4pm? Then we can have our cooking lesson at six." "Sure, that sounds great!" I said thrilled that she had said yes. "Could I drop the ingredients for tonight's lesson by your house this afternoon about two?" she asked. "Sure," I said, as Marilyn overhearing Jacqueline's question, gave me two thumbs up. "I might be out, but someone will be here to let you in." "Why don't you meet at the Clinique counter at the department store at 4pm?" Marilyn said to me. "You can take her up to our little restaurant over the city." "Ummm, I need to pick up something for Marilyn at the Clinique counter," I said with a suave I didn't know I possessed. "Can we meet somewhere near there?" "Sure, I need to pick up something, too," Jacqueline replied. "That sounds perfect." I hung up the phone. I let out a mighty breath. I turned and gave high fives to my Mom and then to Marilyn, overjoyed. "Me Tarzan, have date with Jane at mall," I said and beat my chest proudly, feeling that I had just regained my masculine credentials. Marilyn beamed. My heart was bursting with joy and surprise. Although I was a senior in high school, I had never, ever, been on a date with a girl. I had barely even spoken to a girl my age before. Other boys my age had certainly had their first kiss, and held hands, or perhaps even had sex. I was not even in the ball park of those casanovas. So the fact that I actually had a date planned for that afternoon was really quite an accomplishment. "That was the most courageous thing I have ever seen in my life!" Marilyn said in wonder and kissed me on my cheek. "I didn't actually think you'd be able to do it, but you did!" Goodbye, glasses Marilyn suggested I do a quick map search of all the optometrists near the mall and see if there was one who could fit me in that day for a contact lens prescription and fitting. I called a few, and on my third try found an optometrist actually inside the mall, who could see me that afternoon at 2:30. They told me I could count on walking out of the office forty five minutes later with a pair of sample contact lenses in my eyes for about $59 depending on the type of lens. I booked the appointment and hung up the phone. "What a bargain. Fifty nine bucks out the door. And I can still meet Jacqueline at four." I started to gather my keys, my wallet, and my phone. I glanced in the hall mirror. I was still barefoot and wearing tight women's jeans and my silk pajama top. I was determined to look like a boy for my eye appointment and my date with Jacqueline. Maybe she'll forget what a total fucking freak I looked like last night. So I needed a decent pair of shoes and a nice shirt. I didn't have any pockets, so I dropped my keys, wallet and phone on my bed and asked Marilyn where all my underwear and socks had gone, knowing before I asked, that she had thrown them all away. "Garbage collector took them away two days ago, sport. Very sorry. You can buy a shirt at the mall before your big date. Or before the eye doctor. You have a little time." "Okay, but what do I wear now to get to the mall?" I asked. "Let's look at my tops. You can wear your espadrilles," she said, walking towards the stairs. I followed her to her bedroom, and we looked through her dressers and closet and finally found a small tshirt that fit me okay. It was a cotton t-shirt, with feminine cap sleeves, but at least it was black. I put it on. My arms looked awfully thin. I had no biceps. Marilyn handed me the beige sweater that I had worn a few days ago. Although it was feminine, I probably wouldn't have to wear it. "I guess this is the best we can do," she said, glancing at the clock. My doctor's appointment was in less than 20 minutes, but perhaps I could grab a shirt before then. Maybe I could even grab some boy's jeans. This is what money is for, I thought. I ran back to my room and slipped into my black espadrilles with the low heel. The slim cut of the jeans, with the rolled cuffs, ended just above my ankles. I looked at my legs in the tight women's jeans. My crotch was utterly flat and the decoration on my back pockets looked pretty feminine and accentuated the curve of my hips and buttocks. There were just tiny pockets in the front that looked like they would barely hold two dimes and a nickel. At least my dreaded unshaved legs were covered with denim for my date. I have to remember to get some alcohol and remove the damn manicure, I thought. I kissed my mother and said goodbye to Marilyn. She had a white shopping bag with the empty containers of my acne wash and my acne foundation. The bag was big enough to also hold the stupid beige sweater. Marilyn looked me over while she took a credit card out of her purse and zipped it into a tiny pink zippered leather bag. She said, "When you get to Clinique, talk to my friend Jennifer. There are two small jars of night moisturizer in the bag that I need for you to return for me, please. My credit card is in the pink zippered bag, too. Please don't lose it." I realized that I didn't have my wallet, keys or cell phone. I ran back to my room to get them, and realized that they wouldn't fit in the tiny decorative pockets of my jeans. I unzipped the small zippered pink bag that Marilyn had added to my shopping bag. My keys fit, but my wallet was too large. I removed a small wad of cash and my driver's license and slid them into the pink bag, and dropped the bag back into the shopping bag. I felt naked having my most important things in a bag in my hand. I need to get some jeans with some serious pockets, that's for sure. I kissed Marilyn on the cheek and ran out to my car in the driveway praying it would start right away. My car keys were in the stupid pink bag, so standing in the driveway in my tight jeans and black narrow espadrilles, I had to find the pink bag and take my keys out. I found them, and my car started right away. I backed out of the driveway as quickly as I could. Two blocks from home I was pulled over for speeding. The officer, looked me over carefully, and called in my license, but didn't write me a ticket. I arrived at the doctor's with a minute to spare. I looked down and saw I was still wearing a woman's top and woman's jeans. I still had a French manicure and, under my espadrilles, a French pedicure. My eye appointment started late and went long, but at the end of it, I walked out with a comfortable pair of contact lenses. I paid for my exam, glancing at my watch. The receptionist complimented me on my pretty eyes, and said if I liked the sample lenses, I could call back with my credit card and order a six month supply. I watched her eyes study my sister's black t-shirt, the tight crotch of my jeans and my heeled espadrilles. I looked at my watch again. I had twenty-five minutes before my meeting with Jacqueline. I found a store with men's clothes several doors down from the department store. I tried on three pairs of pants and five shirts, wasting valuable time, pulling the pants up my smooth legs and over my nylon panties, before I selected one of each that wasn't a disaster. I fished the pink zippered bag out of a shopping bag. The clerk watched me as I unzipped it with my manicured fingers. I counted only nine dollars in cash! I fished for my credit cards, while the woman at the checkout rang up my shirt and pants. $22 for the pants. $19 for the shirt. That will be $42.68, please. I handed her my credit card. Declined. I tried my ATM card. Declined. My kingdom for a horse. "I'm sorry," I said, in near panic. "Can I take them if I leave my driver's license?" "Uh, no," she said, looking at me over her reading glasses. "Could you hold these for me? I'll be back, I promise!" The sales woman who had helped me frowned and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. She glanced again at my manicured nails and my tight women's jeans, contempt etched on her face, but said nothing. I left the men's clothing store. I walked briskly through the mall, over to the department store, glad that I was wearing my fairly flat espadrilles and glided down the row of cosmetics counters searching for Clinique. My silk top glistened and shimmered. My tight jeans hugged my waist and hips. Mr. Pinky was crushed to nothingness in the restricted confines of the tight, feminine crotch. I felt a wave of shame for my ridiculous, sissy appearance. Several women stood watching me and smiling at me from their stations. At the Este Lauder counter, an attractive young woman in a white smock and white high heels practically blocked my path. She was so sexy and flirtatious, her eyes so pretty, that I paused just long enough to smell the fragrance she sprayed on a small paper stick and handed to me. She insisted that I try it on my wrists. I arrived at the Clinique counter, seven minutes before my date with Jacqueline, with the feminine Este Lauder fragrance hovering around me like a cloud. I asked for Marilyn's friend, Jennifer, one of the five women working, but she was just ringing up another customer. Trying to buy some time, I asked another of the ladies, Suzi, if she could find the match to the acne products I had in my bag. I looked over my shoulder expecting Jacqueline to appear at any moment. Suzi, who complimented me on my pretty fragrance, rang up my two acne products, $70, and I unzipped the pink bag and handed over my credit card with a prayer. Declined. ATM card. Declined. Four minutes to four. I remembered that I also had Marilyn's card, and handed it to Suzi. Jennifer finally cleared with her customer and came over and introduced herself. She was a beautiful woman, tall and very slender, wearing a black sleeveless top, a white mini skirt and plain black pumps. She had short blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was rockin' some fairly dramatic eye makeup. It was tasteful, yet quite striking. I opened my shopping bag and took out the two items Marilyn wanted me to return together with Marilyn's credit card. She picked up her cell phone and called Marilyn, and had a brief conversation. I saw her swipe Marilyn's card. I again nervously looked towards the entrance. "Marilyn says it's not a problem. I've already processed the refund. By the way, I noticed that the foundation you're purchasing is two shades too light for your complexion and you really need to be using the Clinique acne treatment pen before you apply the treatment foundation. I know you're in a hurry, but let me show them to you quickly." She sat me in front of one of the mirrors. Even after the horrors I'd been through, I shook in revulsion at again finding myself in a situation no man would let himself be put. She unwrapped a brand new acne treatment pen. "You apply this to your reddest areas right after you cleanse and dry your face. Let's wipe your face with our makeup removing cloths, which will simulate the acne cleanse. You're glowing a little anyway, and this will look better." She wiped the foundation and powder from my face with a damp, fragrant cloth, bringing to life my vibrant red acne. I prayed she would cover it again quickly! She dried my face with a few clean, soft tissues. She uncapped the treatment pen she was holding. "This pen has a very strong, effective acne formula, and also has a built-in concealer for any problem areas." Jennifer touched and dabbed my face with the pen as I watched the red vanish. "Isn't that amazing?" "Great," I said. "My date is going to be here in five minutes. Could you please help me to look handsome and not girly?" "Not a problem, sport! Marilyn told me you have a hot date." She took two round plastic foundation cases opening them both, and grabbing a brush. "The lighter treatment, goes where you would naturally have highlights: on your upper cheek, on a line down your nose, and on your upper chin and forehead. It accentuates the natural highlights on your face, which is really important because the foundation can tend to make you look very flat. Of course, it's very, very important to blend it a little like this. You can use your fingers, too." She said, touching my face with the powdered brush. She put down the first black case and picked up the second. She picked up a clean brush. "You have really nice cheeks, by the way, Shawn. This slightly darker foundation goes just below your cheek bone to accentuate your cheek's roundness. I'll also apply it here, to the sides of your nose, between your eyes, and along your hairline. It accentuates shadow areas. Now watch to see how I blend this so it looks completely natural?" "Now, I just want to set it with some powder, like Marilyn taught you," she said, taking a round black case of powder, turning it over once and then removing the lid. Taking a big brush, she dipped it in the powder and lightly brushed my entire face. I watched in the mirror, trying to concentrate. I noticed someone's face behind me in the reflection. Jacqueline. Smiling. I nearly jumped. "Hold on, sweetie," Jennifer said, noticing my jump and that my date had arrived. "Almost done. We need to blend a bit more." Jacqueline rested her hand briefly on my shoulder and then sat on a stool a few feet away, watching me in the mirror. Her lovely lips mouthed the word "hello" and smiled. Her beautiful brown eyes twinkled like deep pools. I smiled back sheepishly and waved and shrugged my silky shoulders. I have a date with the prettiest girl in my class, I thought again for the tenth time that day, as I sat in the makeup chair at the Clinique counter with another woman dusting me with face powder. "So do you see how the powder and the two colors really give you this flawless look to your skin?" I looked back at my face in the mirror and nodded, my attention divided between two stunningly beautiful women. I was torn between wanting to be sexy, handsome and masculine for my date with Jacqueline, and yet I was completely unable to distance myself from the makeup counter and the makeup being applied to my face. This is my first date with Jacqueline, my first date ever with a girl, and it starts out with me wearing women's jeans and a silk top, and getting dusted with face powder at the makeup counter. Jeez! Jennifer's words invaded my thoughts. "This treatment is great for covering acne, but unfortunately it also bleaches out your lips and your eyes. So we need to wipe away the powder from your lips with just a wet cue tip, like this. And then we just want to give you a little lip moisturizer," she said, brushing on some lip balm with still another brush. "You can do this with a finger or a brush. Now squeeze your lips together, Shawn." I squeezed my lips and then opened them, looking up at Jennifer. My lips glistened. "You are so sweet, Shawn," she said. Working fast, she took a pencil and another tube. "We also need to bring back your eyes, but still have you look boyish. There's all this powder on your lids flattening out your look and making you look pasty, so let me give you a thin line on your upper lid. This is our espresso eye pencil." Jennifer had me look down, while she carefully and quickly drew the pencil across my eye lid. It tickled. She put down the pencil and picked up the tube, pulling a brush out of it. "We need to neutralize all that face powder on your long lashes. This is a clear lash treatment with a slight coffee tint, which will restore your lash color. It makes them a bit thicker, but that will look nice, I think, with your beautiful brown eyes. Let me just give you a touch up on your eyebrows, too, to get that powder off." She brushed my lashes and then I felt a tickle on my forehead as she lightly brushed my eyebrows. She stepped back from my stool a few feet, glanced at Jacqueline, smiled, and glanced back at me. "Oh my gawd, Shawn, you really have long lashes! Let me try something. Hold on." She opened a drawer and reached for a small, wiry, metal tool and, carefully holding it up to my face, squeezed my lashes and held it for a few seconds. "This eyelash tool will open up your eyes a bit, so you can see your date better." She grinned as she applied a bit more lash treatment to my lashes. In the reflection, I saw Jacqueline smile beside me and reach up with her fingers to brush a stray strand of hair from her dark eyes. She smiled again, and winked at me. She's so pretty when she smiles, I thought. I can't believe I'm on a date with her! I felt my little Mr. Pinky stir in the confines of my panties, like a tiny baby mouse slowly on a Sunday morning. He was dull and soft, but like a baby mouse, realizing, perhaps, that today was a new day. "Just one more thing," Jennifer said, interrupting my lustful thoughts. "This is a blusher. Let's blend in a small amount of pink into your cheeks to bring back a healthy spring into them. It looks like you're getting some sun, and we just want your face to show that, too." She followed with some more translucent powder to flawlessly blend the pink. Jennifer stood back, still holding the powder brush. Jacqueline tilted her head, looking at me in the mirror. I winked at her and then looked at my own transformed face. I was still not used to seeing my own face without glasses. The change from that morning was striking. I had beautiful, clear skin and healthy color in my cheeks. But my eyes looked like someone else's. They were large, expressive, striking and beautiful. My lashes looked long, soft and luscious. I was pleased to see how clear my skin looked, but I realized with an unpleasant jolt, that my small face looked quite feminine. "Ummm, I don't know about all this," I said. "The look is awfully dramatic, isn't it?" "Quite dramatic, yes." Studying the pink on my cheekbones and the gradual toning and shaping of my face, I realized that my skin looked a lot like the pictures of the women in the large displays all around me. "I mean, it's a little too feminine for me," I stammered nervously. "I mean, it looks like a lot of makeup for a guy like me." "Well, there is quite a bit of product on, but it's really necessary to both treat and cover your severe acne. The amazing thing," Jennifer continued as she studied at my eyes, "is that most of the things you have on are all free because you're buying the acne treatment. We have a springtime offer of a free Clinique bag with Clinique products all for free when you spend $130 or more. The acne vanishing treatment pen plus the two foundations comes to $112. If you buy the lash tool for $7 and the face powder for $11, that will put you slightly over the top." Jennifer calculated in her head, with the tip of eye pencil in her pretty pink mouth. I couldn't believe it was so expensive just to treat my acne. "What you get for free is your three brushes, our signature Clinique tinted lash treatment, our professional eye pencil in black and cappuccino, and the Spring time blusher as well as a full lip pallet and a full eye shadow palate. And these aren't crappy convenience store palates, but our very best Clinique colors and shades. It also comes with a professional mirror and a very nice zippered black travel bag." Jacqueline was listening and rose from her chair and stood near my stool almost touching my arm with her hip. "I guess so," I said, unsure about all the women's makeup, but I couldn't think straight having the beautiful Jacqueline stand so close to me that I could smell her fragrance and feel the heat from her body. Jennifer smiled, "I'll tell you what. Let's run it by Marilyn." Jennifer reached for her cell phone, but continued to look at me with her beautiful eyes. I could feel Jacqueline's softness and warmth on my arm as I was trying to concentrate on Jennifer's free offer. Jennifer said, "Hi Marilyn, it's Jennifer again." She turned away from me. Jacqueline, smiling sweetly, stepped in front of me. "Hi Shawn," she gushed. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek happily. Tiny Mr. Pinky, woken by the proximity of the beautiful Jacqueline, tried with all his might to rise to the occasion. He grew to about the size of a AAA battery for a few brief seconds before giving up the battle and relaxing to his more comfortable pliable softness, the size of a small pen cap. "That's actually really a bargain, you know. I was going to buy a $20 lipstick today, so if you want, you could probably take off one of the items and still be over $130, but you really should have them all. You look really, really, really cute! Let's hurry so we can go get our snack." I squirmed in my seat, feeling the humiliation of my silky panties again controlling and overwhelming my tiny manhood. I tried to focus on whether my face looked too feminine. I couldn't seem to think straight. "You don't think it's a bit over-done? I mean, isn't it a bit too feminine?" I asked Jacqueline. "It's a really good look, Shawn. Look what it's done for your skin. It's completely amazing!" Jennifer hung up. "It's settled, let's run Marilyn's card and you can be on your way." She started to put my purchases in a medium-sized white Clinique shopping bag. I started to search my pockets, but realized I had nothing in the tiny pockets of my women's jeans, and instead fished Marilyn's credit card out of my other shopping bag. Jennifer noticed my manicured fingernails when I handed her the card, but only smiled. I removed the beige women's sweater and folded the now empty bag and left it on my chair as I stood up. "Here's a perfect sized bag for the sweater, and your receipt," Jennifer said, holding open a second medium-sized, very nice white shopping bag with Clinique in black, Helvetica letters. "You've been so great, Shawn. Please come again and bring Jacqueline with you." I hugged Jennifer goodbye, and thanked her, feeling her young breasts push against my chest as we embraced.