Summer at the Beach Part Seven
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Summer At The Beach, Part Fourteen free porn video
Darling Reader, Thank you so much for your taking the time to read this
story and your kind comments. Jim and his Mother have given us so much
to think about, and maybe to try on your own, over these many chapters
of the story. These pages have been a way to depict the angst and the
struggles of a young man, dealing with issues of sexuality and gender.
That angst is real and, surely, the struggles are real, for many people
we know and love. No matter what age they may be, young, mature,
elderly, these kinds of struggles can be frightening and, ultimately
fulfilling. Especially if one has the advantage of a woman like Marcia
Darling to be your guide and mentor and Mother.
I mention "angst" and "struggles". That is very true, but the same
actions and thoughts can provide many pleasures and fulfillments to the
nascent woman we may want to be. No matter what term we choose to be
known as: Cross-dresser, Transvestite, Transgender, Queen, Sissy, Nancy
Girl, Gurl, Girly Boy; we are all, underneath the lace and ruffles and
spandex and paint, still boys or men. And as such we have certain
feelings which are played upon by our hobby.
Let me take some time to let Wendy/Jim speak to you about HIS feelings
as he journeys, under his mother's tutelage, to understanding his
current role in life and what could be his future being and happiness as
a woman.
Let Wendy tell you, in her own words, what feelings she experiences each
morning upon rising from slumber to face the challenges of being a boy
in a totally feminine world. The Feminine world which Wendy and her
Mother have been building for her this Summer has reached the point of
semi-permanent breasts, total dressing and flawless makeup, periods and
douches.
What feelings course through a teenage boy's being when immersed in this
high powered situation?
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Mother has asked that I set into words the myriad feelings I have, and
do encounter, as we journey together in my search for what is right and
proper, in feminine way, for me, as a young man exploring his feminine
side to the utmost, at this time in my life.
Recently I received my breasts. No, nothing drastically permanent, just
professionally surgically glued on C-cup prosthetics which give me the
look of a woman and the need for the underpinnings of a woman. This was
a big step, but just a step, in my summer of steps into womanhood.
That step did invoke so many feelings.
Let me recount for you my feelings, over a short period of time, say,
over night and early morning, as a teenage boy with C-Cup breasts for
the first time in his life.
__________________________________________________________________
I was so tired last night. The whole day of being fitted for breasts and
becoming somewhat accustomed to having breasts and the delicious time of
showing my new form to Judy and Diane at dinner at the club, had
absolutely wore me out.
I was ready to go to bed much earlier that normal. Since tomorrow was to
be our first Mother and Daughter excursion to the Beauty Salon, mother
insisted that she set my hair before bed and that I should sleep in the
curlers. Even as tired as I was, stripping to panties and bra and
sitting at the vanity, letting Mother set my hair was heavenly. As I
looked into the mirror, as the rollers were wound tightly into my permed
hair, my eyes were riveted on my bra. Satin and lace underwired molds
formed MY breasts, breasts which, without a bra, would hang freely,
subject to gravity. New feelings took over my body. My mother worked
steadily on my set, but I felt not the hair being wound, but I felt a
satisfaction and pleasure, that my body, MY breasts, had to be supported
by a beautiful bra. My hands found their way to caress each satin orb. I
could see mother smile as she watched my hands gently lift my C-Cups to
maximum cleavage. I smiled at mother and we shared a sigh that her son
could now experience AND FEEL the excitement she felt as she essayed her
endowments each evening before bed. I felt that after all I had gone
through that day, I deserved to fondle my new girls.
My set was tightly in place and the pink ruffled roller cap was lovingly
placed over the set by my mother. Mother gently kissed the top most
roller and playfully snapped my bra strap.
Mother had laid on the bed a new peignoir set that she wished me to wear
to bed. I took off my panties and slipped into the silky skirt of the
set. Mother came behind me and undid the hooks of my bra. For the first
time since they were attached, my breasts hung free. The feel was
amazing. I swayed slightly and the breasts swung with the movement. I
felt giddy with delight. Mother reached from behind me and stopped the
pendulous breasts from swinging by cupping them in her hands. She held
them, and me, there for several minutes, just feeling the love of a
mother and daughter at a important time in her daughter's life as a
woman.
Then she let my breasts fall free. Strangely I had a tremendous feeling
that I needed a bra, right there and then! As much as I adored the feel
of my breasts swinging free, as a new girl I knew that the proper thing
to do was place the little dears under control. Mother knew this would
happen. She lowered the peignoir top over my head. The peignoir top was
a silken confection with a built in sleep bra which gave needed support
for my new "girls" plus the comfort to easily sleep in freedom.
Hair permed and curled and controlled, sleep bra in place and in
control, Tampax tampon still in place and in control, I was finally
ready for sleep and girlish dreams. Mother suggested that I leave the
tampon in place for the night so that I could become more accustomed to
sleeping with my vagina occupied. Mother kissed me on the lips and
patted my rollered head and tucked me in just below the mounds of my bra
encased breasts. I was soon asleep feeling more like a girl than ever
before. I had never thought about how I felt as a boy. I just was. Now
my mind was full of thoughts and feelings about me, a girl. It was
better than a boy!
It was a new experience sleeping with breasts. Each toss and turn caused
sensations I had never experienced before and I loved it. The roller set
would have supplied enough sensation material alone. But I had already
slept with my hair in rollers before. I had never before slept, or tried
to, while having my own two mounds of gelatinous flesh shifting
provocatively under me with each move. Eventually I was able to
understand how my arms and breasts had to reach an agreement as to
position. Then it became cozy and sweet and sensuous to be resting with
my breasts nestled into gently confining silk cups and having the
billowing peignoir wrap my torso in a shimmering confection. Several
times before I finally feel asleep, I had to position my skirt to assure
that I felt all the tantalizing sleek smoothness it offered on my hips
and buns. Sleep finally came. Breasts and body had become one and
reached an agreement to exist together in happiness to make this young
man feel like a natural woman.
I felt like a woman.
I felt like a woman who is also a man.
In my dreams that night I had the feeling that I would love to be a girl
but I felt that I had to maintain some semblance of my masculinity. I
needed to feel that though I could have the appearances of a woman, I
had to understand, at least for the time being, that I still could
function as a man. It was being still a man which gave me the enjoyment
and feeling of fulfillment that I had when draped in all the
accoutrements of girlishness. I needed to know that I was still, in some
part a boy, in order to attain the thrill of being a girl.
That is why I had never envisioned, at least not yet, total gender
reversal. For these three months, being a boy learning to be a girl was
my need. And my desire. I think Mother understood that. Maybe later I
would need and feel that I should reject, in total, my masculinity. For
the time being, being underneath it all, a boy, made being a girl all
that much more special. I am sure that my friendship with Diane would
not be as intense if I were only just a girl like her. We would be
friends as girls. But as a boy learning to be a girl and her as a girl,
encouraging me to be a girl, we have a special bond of intense feelings
which makes us special.
The dreams were lovely. In time I awoke to start a new day. A day where
I would have breasts and bras.
As soon as my eyes opened I saw the mounds of my quivering flesh in
front of my eyes. Pink mounds, encased in pink silk, which thrilled me
to no end. I knew that I had to prepare myself for a day with my mother
at the Beauty Salon. I followed my new breasts into the bathroom and
took off my peignoir and let my body be free in front of the mirror. It
was lovely, even the remaining boy part. But the boy part did pale in
comparison to my new equipment up top. I felt the strength that my new
boobs conferred on me.
Naked as the day I was born, but with some new equipment, I sat, as a
good girl would do, to relieve myself after the long night. Certainly
was interesting, sitting there, looking down, and not being able to see
past my enlarged rack. Since I had started this journey with Mother, I
had always sat to relieve myself, like the girl I wanted to be this
summer. It gave me such a feeling of rightness that my flow, unseen,
seemed like that of a woman. After daintily wiping the source of the
flow with a piece of toilet paper, I reached back to take out the tampon
which I had placed there yesterday. Mother thought it was a good idea
that I experience my breast fitting while wearing a tampon, even though
my period would not start till sometime next week. It was a good trail
run. After the initial insertion and the first moments of adjusting to
the stuffed feeling, I basically went with the flow,(pun intended) and
it became as one with my body. Really, my feelings were of confidence
that I had the protection all women need at their time of month. I
gingerly took hold of the cute little string hanging from my faux vagina
and pulled with a good deal of strength. I sighed as the package slid
from me. What a feeling! I don't think boys ever encounter a sensation
and a feeling like that.
My tampon had done it's job and my vagina rejoiced at it's absence for
the time being. I would douche after my shower. I replaced my nighttime
curler cap, checking that all the rollers were still tight, with a
pretty flowered shower cap, so my set would not get wet.
For the first time I would be taking a shower with breasts hanging off
my chest. I gingerly stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water
to course over me. As I stood with my back to the shower head, the flow
of the water was quite different from what I was used to as a man.
Streams of warm water poured over and around my breasts, as if seeking
every avenue to touch every inch of my new "girls". As I soaped them, I
was aroused at the sight of my areolae and nipples standing out with
tuffs of soap suds peaking at the tips of my firm mounds. It looked and
felt like a sundae with a cherry on top, waiting for someone to lick it
off. Turning to face the shower head on, or boobs on, the thrill of the
jets of water hitting and bouncing off my knockers and nipples was
incredible. I don't think I have ever enjoyed a shower quite so much.
Stepping out of the shower, the feel of the soft towel embracing my
body, and especially my girls, was amazing. I dried each tit with great
care, being sure the nipples received their due attention. When I was
was dry, I wrapped the towel around and over my breasts in the best
girly fashion. Finally I had breasts which held the towel in place and
showed the structure all girls desire. The towel fit snugly over my
girls. I bent over and took the douche bottle and reached behind me, all
without being able to see, and inserted the douche nozzle into my vagina
and gave a healthy squirt of the heavenly fluid. Inserting the nozzle
into myself gave me a great feeling of accomplishment and community. I
was doing something which was completely feminine to a male body not
used to being penetrated. My toilette cherry was being broken. The room
was filled with the scent of lavender. As was I. After joyously
expelling the douche, in a lavender fog, I walked to my dressing table
and started the process of dressing as the girl I now was becoming. As a
boy I had never felt as I did now, womanly wrapped in a fluffy towel,
walking to dress in the most intimate of female lingerie.
What is a boy going to do? Slip into a jock strap! DOES NOT COMPARE!
How did I feel? Clean, fresh, cute, sexy, anxious, nervous, determined,
stronger, happier than I had ever felt just as a boy.
With boobs hanging free, I reached into my pantie drawer and took out a
pair of virginal white silk high waisted briefs with delicate white lace
trim at the waist band. I slowly stepped into my panties, allowing the
thrill of the silk to caress my legs and thighs as I pulled them into
position over my boy part and my faux vagina. It was quite a feeling to
peek between my breasts to watch me accomplish this simple girlish
function. I felt divine. Though I had removed the tampon from my faux
vagina, I did not want to be careless and have an accident, so I
inserted a Maxi-Pad into the tightness of of my panty briefs. The result
was a very satisfying smooth pussy effect, with no sight of the Junior
Woodchuck.
Next I chose a white, high waisted, firm controlling panty girdle to
define my bottom. The snugness gave me feelings of security and comfort
which I had never experienced as a boy. The boy part found it's
deserving way into position out of sight, secure, back and under, in the
panty girdle, only to be released when sitting on the toilet for a
girlish pee. My tightly girdled lower section enhanced the look of my
hanging mammaries. They seem happy to be free now that my vagina had
been encased in satin. But that was not to be for long. I had to take
control of my boobs and show them who was master (or MISTRESS). What
better way to achieve that mastery than to control them in my bridal
white underwired long line bra!
Until now I had always asked Mother to hook me into this particular bra.
It was very difficult for me to maneuver my hands and fingers to hook
all the back hook and eyes which locked me into the controlling confines
of this feminine masterpiece. But this morning, I had the feeling that I
must learn to do this for myself. Although there is something quite
thrilling about having your mother hook you into your bra, given my new
rack, I wanted to be able to do it myself, as a badge of my strong
desire to learn all there is to learn and feel as a woman.
I slipped into the straps and allowed the bra to hang free in front of
my chest. I leaned forward, as mother had taught me, and allowed my new
girls to fall gently into the waiting cups. What a feeling! MY BREASTS
finding their best resting place in MY CUPS! I shifted slightly and the
orbs settled into their most comfortable and desirable position.
I leaned back, holding the two sides of the back of the bra tightly.
This is where the job becomes tricky.
It is very hard to get, behind your back, the proper hook into the
proper eye. Once that has been accomplished, the remainder of the hooks
and eyes fall into place rather easily. On this model bra there were 12
sets of hooks and eyes.
Imagine how it feels for a teenage boy who had recently became used to
putting on a bra by fastening it first in the front and then moving it
around into proper chest position and then dropping falsies into the
limp cups to give some semblance of female shape to his chest, to now
experience the true womanly feeling of HIS tits dropping effortlessly
into the waiting cups of his bra and then fastening A LONG LINE BRA, in
the rear, with the proper girlish mannerisms, including puckering his
lips till the hook finally latched onto the proper eye.
I was sweating when I had finished the maneuver, rivulets of sweat were
coming down from the curlers above my forehead. I hoped I had not ruined
my set. I blotted my forehead with a soft towel and smiled at the
reflection I saw in the mirror. What a lovely young lady! That lovely
young lady took a powder puff from the powder box on the vanity and
pouffed a large quantity of fragrant cooling talc over my body, stopping
the perspiration and giving me a smooth cool bosom daintily showing
above the strong and firm cups. Having breasts was just plain delicious!
The sweet smell of the fragrant talc found a very convenient perch on my
overflowing orbs would supply that delicious scent for hours to come.
I slipped on a white rayon half slip and loved having the flipiness of
the flimsy material around my legs. A decidedly non-male look had been
formed by the rollers, the bra, the girdle, the slip. I stepped to the
make up vanity and sat down to do my makeup. So much had changed with
the addition of my new boobs. I assumed a totally new posture, a female
posture, at the vanity. There was a need for me to keep my head up and
my chest out, with new confidence given by my rather large tits. It was
the vision, in the mirror of a lovely young lady with quite nice
hooters, that placed a smile on my soon to be painted lips.
I had quickly learned that there is something really special about
putting on makeup while you are wearing only your undies and you still
have your hair in curlers. Your hair is off your face, being contained
in the curlers. And your body is severely restrained in your bra and
girdle. So your boyish face is prominent, ready to accept the feminine
lotions and creams and paints which will stamp you as a woman, not a
man.
Since Mother and I were to spend a good part of the day at the Beauty
Salon, I did not need to spend a lot of time on my makeup. As a boy, I
spent no time on my makeup. My God, what I was missing! At the start of
this summer, after Mother and I had reached an understanding of what she
could do for me and what I desired for myself this summer, mother
introduced me, slowly at first, to makeup. The first step I learned
about in my new beauty regimen was moisturizing. Twice a day I would now
moisturize with a wonderfully fragrant cream, thickly applied to my face
and neck and hands. The smooth creme was sucked into my boyish pores and
my skin felt renewed and sexy. Not something very boy would be able to
say with a straight face. I loved the feel of the cool, silky creme,
first layered upon my skin and then gently rubbed deep into my willingly
accepting flesh.
As the creme vanished, my skin would glow and feel divine and, Oh So
soft! Plus I learned that the moisturizer was a wonderful base for the
cosmetics I would soon be learning to use effectively. I had no dad to
teach me to shave. Alas, I had, as yet, no need to shave. Nor did I have
a father to teach me about manly aftershaves and colognes. What I did
have was a Mother who seemed perfectly willing and eager to teach her
son how to apply all sorts of girly makeup products.
With a liberal application of moisturizer applied, and my skin still
youthful and glowing with a feminine sheen, I considered the need for
foundation. Since I was just going to the Beauty Salon, I didn?t see the
need for full coverage. My complexion was quite fair for teenage boy.
Five O?clock shadow was not problem, not yet. There were a few freckles
which, since I wasn?t going to be presented at court, could or could not
be taken care of with a dab or two of light foundation. I decided to
apply a light coat, just to even out my skin tones. After all, I was
going to have my hair done and who knew what the stylist had in mind for
her favorite young lad.
With the foundation and moisturizer steps accomplished, the fun part
could now start in earnest. How do I feel about eyeshadow? I feel
deliriously happy that it had been invented. Mother had taught me the
three tone system. Darkest on the lower lid surface and then a medium of
the same shade in the crease and, finally, a light, iridescent shadow on
the upper surface under the brow.This widened the eyes and gave a look
of a semi-sweet, semi-sultry woman, depending on the desire of the
wearer. I thought I would go with semi-sweet and see if the nice ladies
at the Salon changed it over to semi-sultry. They did like to experiment
on a comely young lad, they did! And who was I to stop them! Oh, Please,
Please!
I plucked a few stray hairs out of my brows. They were definitely a male
bushie style. I thought I might say something at the Salon and see if
they could shape them like my mother?s. Mother?s brows were thin and
arched evocatively to a pronounced peak over the outside edge of the
brow bone. A simple raise of her eyebrows could drive a man wild. I am
not sure about the driving a man wild part, but for these three months,
thin and mysterious would do nicely for this young man.
Liner was not called for on this particular day. Too dramatic for going
to the Salon, maybe coming from the Salon would be a different story,
those naughty ladies down there! I did go somewhat heavily on the
mascara. After all, I was a girl with 36 C-Cups. Definitely calls for
thick and full lashes. Mother had supplied me with all kinds of mascara,
but I chose the one which gave the fullest and longest and lushest
results. Jet black, of course. Who knew that four coats of mascara could
be downright heavy on a young lad?s lashes?
After the applying the foundation to even my complexion, I did add a
light touch of peach blush on my cheek bones. Just to bring out the
innocent girly quality I was looking for on this journey as a Mother and
Daughter to the Beauty Salon. I then dusted on a very light coat of face
powder and made sure I dusted my lips especially.
I wanted my lips to set properly and powder works wonderfully as a base,
just as I had put my foundation on my lips also in preparation for the
final product. With foundation and powder on my lips, there was a
perfect canvas prepared for luscious lipstick. These were all things
Mother had generously taught me after I had asked her to help me be a
girl.
I guess since the first day of my experiment, I have been putting on
lipstick. First with training with my mother and then on my own. It is
my favorite female thing to do. As much as I love applying lipstick,
applying lipstick when my hair is still in curlers gives me the biggest
thrill a boy could ever have. The curlers give that extra touch of pure
femininity, which combined with the ultimate female prerogative,
Lipstick, just gives me shudders and goosebumps. I am pretty sure Mother
agrees with that statement because she adores watching me do my lips.
Dressed in my undies, hair in curlers, face 90% made up, I gaze into the
mirror and raise my coral lipstick to my lips. No lipliner today. No
lips brush. Straight from the tube, just like Mom taught me. Just going
to the Beauty Salon, not a strip club. The sensuous feel of the smooth
tube, coating my powered lips, drives me up a wall. This is what this
boy wanted to try for this summer. And maybe a lot longer. I hate long
lasting lip stains and 18hour lipsticks. A woman should do this entirely
womanly application several times a day, just for her own pleasure. If
my lipstick is wearing off, I am a woman, I will do what a woman does
and paint my lips with pride and confidence. Over and over again, each
and every day of my female life. Watch men as they watch a woman apply
lipstick. They are enthralled with the process and practically salivate
with envy and desire.
My lips were spectacular! Eat your heart out, Doris Day! You know, I
think it is just more fun being a girl.
Now made-up, girdled, curled, brassiered and powered I was now ready to
step into soft leather sandals with romanstyle criss-cross laces up past
the ankle and evocative open toes which set off my pedicure. No need for
heels today.
Still with my hair in rollers, I go to the closet and select a lemon
yellow, starched sateen, sleeveless, very fitted front buttoned,
shirtwaist frock with man style collar in a roll set, with a flared
pleated skirt which came to just above my knees. The long line bra and
the fitted bodice bonded together to create an absolutely stunning rack.
This young man was ready for the Beauty Salon with his Mommy.
I felt good about myself. And I would feel more and more feminine with
each passing day.
?Mother! Can you give me a hand taking down my set? I know you love to
do that!?
Aspen
- 14.12.2021
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Summer at the Beach Part 2
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Summer at the Beach Part Four
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