Summer at the Beach Part Seven
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Summer At The Beach, Part Six free porn video
Indeed, we did set Wendy's hair that evening.
After allowing Wendy to enjoy the feeling of the girdle and long line bra
for awhile; a feeling which had to be monumental for him. The most
intimate of female garments, now a part of his life. Garments which, by
their very nature, gave the wearer a sense of being controlled, in the
strictest meaning of the word. This young man/boy was now encased by
spandex and satin and lace, allowing nothing of his maleness to be
observed. The strong panels of the girdle and the semi-rigid sides of the
bra, forced what had been male flesh into the evocative silhouette of a
woman. That was their purpose for existence. I choose these garments for
just that reason. I wanted Jim/Wendy to understand that once these pieces
of spandex and lace became a daily burden for him, masculinity had to be
sent away. There was no room for macho maleness in a garment designed for
the express purpose of creating essential womanliness.
That was my desire in choosing such extreme examples of femininity for
Jim's first foray into the real world of girls and women. That girdle and
that bra, by their structure and design, forced Jim say goodbye to boxer
shorts and jock straps.
Having chosen what Wendy needed to wear on the morrow to purchase a
swimsuit and a sun dress, I had to pry Wendy's fingers off the cups of
her bra.
"Wendy! Quit admiring yourself! We have a few more things to accomplish
this evening. And I don't mean watching the Yankees on TV."
"Mom, I feel so different. It is almost like my body has surrendered to
an outside force. No matter which way I move, the girdle and the bra send
out signals to my skin, that I will be forced to be this shape, no matter
how I move in them."
"Get used to that feeling, son. The girdle and the bra will not be the
only female things which will latch onto your body and your soul. Womanly
pieces of clothing, especially foundation garments, are designed to give
the woman wearing them, not just a covering, but a feeling of specialness
and femininity. Men's clothes are designed to cover nakedness, nothing
more.
"Now, let's get you out of these items. You can enjoy them all day
tomorrow. Right now I would like you to strip down to your panties and
put on a comfy nightgown. I believe I saw a classic Granny gown in your
collection. A gown which has the sole purpose of supplying comfort and
warmth. I want you to be very comfortable the rest of the evening. We are
going to set your hair on prickly 1 inch rollers. I want the set to be
firm and strong in the morning when I style your hair."
I helped Wendy out of the girdle and longline bra. There was no way he
was going to be able to get that bra off without my help. I showed him
how to nestle his breast forms into their little cups in their box. He
would have to take very good care of them, if he wanted to look like the
Wendy he envisioned. He immediately slipped the Granny gown over his head
and the almost sultry young lady of a few minutes ago morphed into a
young lady intent on comfort and ease at home.
"Wendy, grab a fluffy towel and come into the kitchen. I think it would
be best if I wetted your hair a little at the sink, then I will fluffy
the wetness almost out of your hair and then add a setting lotion. Then
the fun can begin.
"Just lean over the sink and let me rinse your head with warm water.
Doesn't that feel nice? Now I will put the towel around your head and
just pat the excess moisture out of it. Just think, in a few minutes your
head will be covered in curlers!"
"Mother, it has been awhile, but I remember a few years ago, when you had
a hairstyle that required a set at night. I loved watching you wind your
hair on the rollers. And then the sight of you, completely rolled, with a
hair net, would thrill me. And what really pleased me was seeing you
lower the dryer over those curlers. Sometimes you would be going out for
a party or a business meeting and you would totally dry the curls under
the dryer. And sometimes you would partially dry them under the dryer and
then allow them to completely dry overnight. I especially like that. I
could imagine you laying on your pillow with all those curlers in your
hair. I wondered at how that would feel and if you could sleep in curlers
very well."
"Well, son, your wondering can be over. That is what I have in mind for
you. Tonight I will give you a wet set and then stick you under the dryer
for maybe 1/2 hour and then up comes the dryer and you will spend all
night finding out if you can sleep with those prickly rollers digging
into your scalp. As they say: A night in curlers will separate the men
from the boys!"
His hair was still a little moist, which was fine. I added a setting
lotion to his hair. Then I gave him a bowl with all the curlers in it.
That is what my mother used to do with me and my sets. Jim would hand
each roller to me, just as I had done with my mother.
"Settle in, Wendy. This will be another new experience for you. Another
rite of passage into the girly world."
I took my comb and separated his hair into two halves. I wanted a pattern
which would allow me to style a simple stylish pageboy bob in the
morning. So I wanted the curling or the waving to fall down the sides and
the back so I could sculpt a "Do" which would thrill a June Allyson or a
Doris Day. Doris Day, June Allyson, MY SON! Lordy, Lordy!
I sectioned off the first lock of hair and waited as Wendy reached back
and handed me a curler and a pick. It was so nice to be setting my son's
hair with his help. The ultimate in Mother and Son togetherness.
I hadn't forgotten my rolling skills. The first roller wound it's way
home. It was tight and Wendy flinched as I made the last quarter turn of
the roller. When I rammed home the locking pick, he jerked from the
unexpected jab to his scalp. But he did not complain. I think the female
Jim is made of sterner stuff that the male Jim.
Over and over, the process continued. At last his whole head was a
picture of womanhood. He was so cute, sitting there in that Granny gown,
his hair tightly wound with a hair net being lower over his incipient
curls. Before a word could be said, I brought the salon type dryer around
behind Wendy and immediately lowered the daunting hood. Wendy/Jim was for
the first time, encased in a woman's dryer. The heated air started to
surround his head and I wondered if he was thinking about the girly curls
being baked into his formerly male tresses. I pressed a hand on his
shoulder and mouthed the words "Half an Hour" and I left him to bake and
think and feel. About all I could see with the hood of the dryer down so
low was a smiling mouth painted in Softsilver Red.
By this time the evening was almost at an end. There was a big day in
store for tomorrow. So after 1/2 hour under the dryer, I got Wendy to
surrender the newfound joys of hooded drying and get back into the real
world of female nighttime preparations. The curlers and the night gown
and the panties and the lipstick and the nail polish did a good job of
hiding the boy I once knew as my son. Now I showed Wendy how to remove
her makeup, wash and moisturize her face, sit on the toilet like a good
little girl and climb into bed with a head full of rollers.
I could see the sleep forming in his eyes. It would not be long till he
was off into dreamland. Pretty sure his dreams would involve menacing
bras and smooth, creamy lipsticks.
I tucked him in, patted his curlered hair, and kissed him gently on the
lips as he slept.
The rollers didn't not seem to bother my new daughter. I heard no
movement or curses during the night. The shower was running when I came
into Wendy's bedroom. I hoped that she had remembered to put on the
shower cap I had left on the shower door. By now her hair should be ready
for my ministrations. I noticed that the longline bra and the girdle were
layed out, ready to be donned.
I waited for Jim to finish his toilette. He came out of the bathroom with
a fluffy pink tower wrapped, girly fashion, around his chest. After his
shower, his nails glistened in the morning light.
"Good morning, sweetie, did you sleep well in your curlers?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I guess I was too tired to notice the
discomfort."
"Well, son, slip on your panties and girdle and then I will help you into
your bra. Eventually you will be able to take care of such things
yourself, but I know this particular bra requires some help for a
rookie."
It was so pleasing to see my son step into his panties and slide his
girdle up his legs and over his cute little rump. He positioned himself
in front of me and handed me his bra. Once again I felt the thrill of
hooking my son into the most exquisite longline bra I have ever seen. He
held his breath until the last hook and eye was fastened and then, with a
huge sigh, released his breath and the longline bra was one with his
body. Like he was born with it on. I handed him his breast forms and he
deftly positioned each perfectly to create the most pleasing shape.
"OK, my dear, put on your shirt and shorts and these ballet flats I found
in my closet. Would you like to eat first or should I style your hair and
do your makeup now?
"Oh, mother, I am too excited to eat anything right now. Why not do my
makeup and then my hair. I hope Diane likes my look."
"Sit down at the vanity and I will do your makeup. You can do your own
lips. I will just give you some pointers on doing your eyes. As a 16 year
old girl, you do not have the need for a great amount of makeup. But I
bet you would like to wear some, right?"
"Yes, mother, just enough for shopping."
With his hair in rollers, his face was a blank canvas framed in pink
rollers. I was almost in tears at the sight of him. A very light coat of
Lt. Grey shadow on the upper lid and a touch of darker grey towards the
outer edge of his lid looked very becoming. No liner, but three coats of
black mascara and a touch of eyebrow pencil to give a female definition
to his face. A quick flick of blush on the ball of his cheekbone and my
makeup job was done.
When I looked at him expectantly, he realized it was his turn. The tube
of Super Lustrous lipstick found it's way onto his finger tips. Once
again I was thrilled and amazed at how natural he looked putting on his
lipstick. He truly was my son.
"Mother, please do my hair now."
Not the kind of thing I would have usually done with my son, but I
carefully lifted the hair net off the curlers. They all were still
rigidly in place. Not one was out of place. I started low on his head and
removed each curler carefully. The curl left there was quite perfect.
Soon Wendy's head was a mass of springy curls, down one side and down the
other and down the back, with a few for bangs over the forehead. I tool
my long comb and my styling brush and went to work. With a controlled
brushing, waves formed and gave me the basis to form the "Do" I had in
mind for my son's first total day as a girl. Brushing inward and
downward, I created a sleek bob which tucked over his ears and curled
under just above the neck, framing his face. The bangs fell in a graceful
curve to almost the top of his eyebrows. My God! What have I done! Just
think what he will look like after a visit to the beauty salon and being
styled by professionals.
There was a young woman sitting there.
Without the proper outer layers of female clothing, there was still a
shadow that this might not be a real girl. But just a shadow. What was
there was lovely. My son was lovely.
Jim reached back when I stopped brushing and finished spraying hair
spray. He took my hand and squeezed. I didn't think he would ever let go
as he gazed into the mirror at what he had become in just a couple short
days.
Still sitting there holding my hand, I could feel him moving his feet. He
found the ballet flats I had placed under the vanity and placed his feet
into them. Now he was completely dressed and painted and ready to go
swimsuit and dress shopping.
Seeing Wendy standing there ready to go to women's shops and be measured
and try on women's clothes, I realized there was something missing. I
went to my closet and pulled out a brushed leather Coach bag with a strap
which could go over the shoulder or across the chest. I took it to the
dresser and put in some tissues, his lipstick, his compact, a comb, a
brush, a mascara and three Tampons. Just for good measure.
Wendy blushed and gave me a big smile as she tried on her new purse.
Across the chest, accented by the structure of the bra under her shirt,
worked wonderfully. She looked into the purse and pulled out a Tampon.
"MOM!!!!!!"
"Come on, Kiddo, you're as ready as you will ever be. Let's go do some
shopping."
This being Long Island, there were no shortage of boutiques serving the
well to do ladies of the land. In our little beachside village there were
several shops eager to take good money for the skimpiest of bathing
attire. Skimpy was not what I had in mind for Wendy's first female
bathing suit. Sexy, not skimpy. Structured, not flimsy. Girlish, not
sultry. Brenda's Swim Shop seemed to fit my needs.
"Wendy, you look lovely. But remember, you are a boy. And they will know
that in this shop. And I will not try to fool them. Your need is to be a
boy testing out what a girl feels. Their need is to make money. So they
will have no problem selling you anything you want. I doubt they will be
judgmental, just be sweet to them and they will treat you like the young
lady you present."
"I know what type of swimming suit is going to be best for you at this
time in your journey. So let me do the selecting and we will do the
trying on together in the dressing room. We may want to take off your bra
when we try on the suits. Most will come with their own built in bra. But
don't worry, I will hook you back in that torture garment before we leave
here."
We got out of the car and walked hand in hand to the shop. There were
several mannequins in the windows. Jim's mouth dropped as he gazed at the
offerings, knowing that he would soon be wearing suits just like them.
Another test of his resolve. My resolve was to get my son a figure
flattering suit with firm control, a good bra bodice, adequate shoulder
straps, possibly ruching, and possibly a nice little detached skirt for
demure walking on the beach. A suit suitable for a teen age girl, not a
Sports Illustrated swimsuit model.
I picked Jim's jaw off the ground and we went into the shop. We were the
only customers at this early hour of the morning. Which was good. I
didn't not want to have Jim be humiliated by herds of teeny bobbers
flinging swim bra tops at each other. The only salesperson we saw was a
40ish, nicely dressed, nicely made up woman. She approached us with a
smile.
"Ladies, what can I do for you today?"
"My son needs new swimsuit. Maybe something with firm control and a
detached skirt. One piece, please. More on the conservative side.
Probably in a pastel color or a very subdued floral print. Do you have
such items here?"
The sales person looked at Wendy. The she looked at me and I could see
her judging the depth of my wallet.
"Yes, madame, I am sure we can find you just what you and your son would
need. I would guess about a size 12 with a 34 B. Does that sound about
right to you?"
"We can start there. Could you round up several that fit our needs and we
will try them on."
"Of course! Why don't the two of you go into the main dressing room and I
will bring him suits to try on. I see that your son is wearing a bra. He
should take that off. These suits will all have their own bra. He may
need breast forms, though."
"He is well equipped for that need, thanks."
Jim and I went to the dressing room. Three sides of the 12 x 12 ft room
were covered in mirrors. There was a raised platform in the middle of the
room, about 8 inches off the floor. On one wall were racks to hold the
items which would be or had been tried on. I told Jim to step up on the
platform and take off his shirt and I would help him take off his bra.
Then we took off his shorts. Leaving him standing there clad only in his
girdle. Tres Cute! Instinctively his hands rose to his chest as if to
cover his breasts. Such a feminine gesture. But, alas, there were no
breast to cover. As yet.
"Mom, do you think this is a good idea?"
"Son, I think this was your id........"
The sales person came bounding into the room with her arms laden with
wonderful things. She stopped with her mouth open when she saw Jim
standing there in just his girdle.
"Well, Well, I think we will be having a very nice time fitting this
lovely young lady."
One by one, we tried on 13 suits. Several different styles, many color
and fabrics. After a while, Jim really got into the activity and became
quite adept at modeling on the platform. His breast forms got quite a
work out.
Finally we arrived at two suits which we all agreed upon. One was a
pastel lavender number with panels which criss-crossed across the bodice,
raising the breasts, had almost girdle strength side panels for control,
and came with a matching detachable skirt which was just darling for
beach walking. The bra supported Jim's breast forms quite nicely. The
second suit was a pink, green, and yellow, floral design which just
exuded femininity. It was more designed to showcase the female body
sitting on a chaise than to actually swim in it. Jim looked divine in it.
And he knew it!
So, Wendy now had two beautiful swimsuits to wear at the beach and around
the pool. No more cut off jeans and sleeveless t-shirts. The shop now had
a new customer and $327.84 of my money. Everybody was happy. Almost
everybody. Having a son who wants to be a girl can be quite expensive.
"Mom, do you think Diane will like my swimsuits? And do you think she
will even like seeing me in a woman's swimsuit?"
"Wendy, if Diane likes you, she will not care if you are in a woman's
swimsuit or not. It is the person one should care about, not the clothes.
I would say that seeing you two look for make up together yesterday,
there isn't a lot of difference between a boy buying lipstick for himself
and a boy buying a woman's swimsuit for himself. I think, if she is a
true friend, she will love your choices, either in make up, or swimsuits,
or hair styles. Now swimsuit down, Sun dress to go. Let's go and find you
a dress. We have to get home and prepare for our guests this afternoon.
It is a lovely day for a swim and a dinner by the pool."
As with the swim shop, Long Island is full of dress shops which cater to
wealthy country club women and their prep school daughters. There is no
where else in the world more likely to have what I am looking for than
our little slice of the American Dream. These Country Club mothers and
daughters have to have a never ending supply of the latest costly frocks
for Club dinners and dances. Now I want to find a frock, costly or not,
for my son so he can be as cute as a button for his new friends.
Obviously Jim needs all kinds of clothes if he is going to live as a girl
for the next three months. But right now I have a single purpose in mind
as to clothing for the dear. Thanks to his supply of foundations, he has
the figure that calls for a sundress with a tightly fitted sleeveless
torso and darted bodice. Below the waist, there should be pleats floating
on petticoats, swaying in any light breeze. It should be a light color or
even white, maybe with a satin waist band to give definition to the
curves. Remind self to get a pair of 3 inch wedge espadrilles so that Jim
has the height to balance the swell of his breasts.
Only a few blocks up the shopping street of the village, a demure sign
beckons this mother and son dress shopping duo. "Michelle's - Dresses for
the Club, Dinner, or Dancing". I stopped suddenly. There in the window
was the dress I envisioned for my son. Oh, my, I wanted it for myself! A
crisp white linen sleeveless top which seemed to be molded to the shapely
mannequin on which it resided. From the waist down flared out layers of
pale yellow organza over snow white starched petticoats. A belt of white
and yellow rose appliqu?s measured the waist and a white satin clutch
purse with the same rose appliqu?s around it's edges hung off to the side
from the neck of the mannequin. WOW! What boy wouldn't want to wear this
dress!
Jim and I quickly walked into the shop. Several other women were in
various stages of purchasing the frocks they just had to have. There
seemed to be as many sales clerks as there were customers. That might
give an idea of the cost of these goodies! A young woman in her late 20's
came up to us and offered her assistance.
"The white and yellow sun dress in the window, do you have it in a 12?"
"I believe we still have a twelve, it is very popular with all the
younger girls. But i would thought you would take an 8 or a 10?"
"I do, but it is not for me. It is for my son here. Can he try it on?"
Somewhat taken aback, she quickly recovered.
"But of course. Let me show you to a dressing room and I will bring the
size 12 to you. Shall I bring the petticoats which are required also?
Will he want the petticoats?"
"Oh, yes, please do. They do make the dress, don't they. He will adore
them."
We went into the dressing room and followed the same procedure as at the
swim shop. Off came Jim's shirt and shorts but the bra and the girdle
stayed on. Here the raised platform was surrounded by mirrors and even
one over head so you could check out the amount of cleavage which was
showing to anyone looking down on you. At my urging, Jim stationed
himself, clad only in bra and girdle on the platform, using the few
minutes waiting to once again appraise his new look.
"Mom, please hand me my purse."
I did so and Jim dug out the lipstick and refreshed his lips like a pro.
You just have to have on lipstick when trying on a dress like the one
coming.
When the sales clerk came into the dressing room she did not bat an eye
at seeing a boy in a girdle and longline bra standing on the platform.
"I have it! And you will love it! It is so precious! Any girl (or boy)
would love to wear this dress. Let's slip in on and see if the twelve is
correct for you."
Jim stepped into the dress and the clerk went behind and did the honors
of zipping up the back. It fit Jim like a sexy glove. The darts were in
perfect position to accept the mounds of Jim's bra encased silicone
breasts. The waist also fit perfectly. The roses were sooooo cute. The
skirt was beautiful but hung rather limp and off kilter. Then the clerk
told Jim to step into the three starched white petticoats which came with
the dress. That did it!!!!! There couldn't have been a prettier young
lady anywhere in the whole of Long Island than my son. Jim was almost
about to swoon from the feel of the petticoats and the snugness of the
sleeveless top. OK, easy choice. Saw one dress, bought one dress. AND the
gorgeous 3 inch white straw espadrilles the clerk was kind enough to
bring with her when she had noticed the lowly ballet flats my son was
wearing.
All morning long, Jim never had to try on anything that went over his
head. So his hair do was still in fine shape. He was pretty as a picture
and as happy as a clam. A clam wearing a $419.99 sun dress. I sure hope
Diane loves the thing. I paid the bill and as we prepared to leave the
shop, Jim took his purse and went over to a mirror standing on one of the
counters. With a store full of women all around him, he took out his
trusty compact and lipstick and refreshed his lips to a high sheen. There
was no qualms about it. The lipstick said this is who I am, deal with it.
And they would.
Now to prepare the house, the food, the wine, the pool, the son for our
guests. I have never been happier than I was at that minute looking at my
son doing his lips. This is going to be one scrumdillyicious summer for
both of us!
Come on over, Diane and Judy, we are going to be ready for you!
Alessandra
- 20.09.2020
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