French Maid
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French Maid Part 2 free porn video
French Maid Part 2:
I looked at the girl my mother had just created in the mirror struggling
to connect with the fact that the girl I was looking at was in fact me,
a boy, a lost boy, a completely lost boy... I looked at the girl in the
mirror, her fishnet encased legs, her half slips and her bra. I looked
up at her perfectly made up face, her lipstick painted lips, her long
blonde hair in a ponytail. Boys just didn't look like this. I looked
at the girl in the mirror and concluded yes it was me, but it was not
me, well not the me I recognised any more.
As I looked at myself my mother pulled out what at first looked like a
black ribbon but which she told me was called a choker and tied it
around my neck concealing the only remaining visible clue to my
masculinity - my Adams's apple. You are a beautiful woman I wanted to
say to the girl I was staring at in the mirror. You are as sexy as your
mother too.
I was woken from my reverie as my Mother said, "So, Marie. Are you
going to stand around all morning admiring yourself in the mirror or are
you going to put on your uniform?" She was offering me a black silk
dress on a hanger. I have since seen that my Mum posted a picture of me
in my lingerie on facebook with the caption "My daughter has brains as
well as beauty." Anyone who looks at Mum's profile will see the only
family mentioned is me, her son.
I took my dress from her and I held the silky garment in my hands
looking at it for a moment.
"This is not the sort of garment a boy would wear," I told myself. "You
don't have to put it on. You could just run away. Forget your Mum,
forget this job. She is going to turn you into a woman and real men
don't dress like this. Run!"
But inside my head I was also hearing a more seductive and hypnotic
voice, more like my mother, which said, "Dress.... Dress... this is your
first dress, sweetie. What does it feel like to wear a beautiful dress
like this? Who wouldn't want to try it on? Come on, don't tell me the
feel of this silk doesn't excite you! Run? What kind of man feels
threatened by a dress? You need to feel what it's like when it covers
your body. Come on, this is your uniform now, try it on."
The seductive voice won and I unzipped the dress and took it off the
hanger before stepping into it. I found as I put my arms through the
sleeves that I needed some help. "Zip me up please, Mummy," I said,
thinking how I used to hear my Mum asking my Dad to do that for her, as
a tear came to my eye.
I missed my Daddy. What would he make of his daughter? I wondered.
As Mum zipped me into my dress I realised I would not be able to get out
of it without her help. I was going to have to remain in my dress
whether I wanted to or not now. Mum saw the tear in my eye and she told
me, "You look beautiful, sweetie, any man would be proud to have you as
his girlfriend or daughter." I'm not sure now if Mum was speaking for
herself (as in she was proud to have me for a daughter) or for Dad (as
in he would have been proud to have me for a daughter) in this context
but at the time it was what I needed to hear, it brought a smile to my
face and dried my tears and saved my mascara getting too messy.
Mum then passed me my pinafore and told me to put it over my head and
how it symbolised my submission to my employer and to our customers and
told me to tie it in a large pretty bow behind my back.
"Hey, honey, it's time you took a walk on the wild side!" Mum said
passing me a pair of 6 inch wedge heels. Lou Reed's song had been one
of my favourites but I had never thought about the words as Mum said,
"You know this really should be your song, it sums you up, you're like
Holly." As Mum was saying this the song started playing in the changing
room.
"Gosh, you know, I never realised the song was about a transvestite!" I
said, stumbling as I tried to walk in my shoes with their impossibly
high heels.
Mum helped me back on my feet and coached me in how to walk. "It's like
walking on a type-rope Marie. You walk in a straight line placing your
right foot directly in front of your left foot, not beside it like a
man. Think in terms of needing to puff up your chest to show off your
breasts. You are protecting your vagina with the sway of your hips,
only of course you don't have a vagina yet. I have started you on these
heels as you need to learn to walk like a woman in them or you will fall
flat on your face. Once you get used to them and have a more feminine
walk you can have lower heels.."
After a while I got used to my new shoes and Mum said I was ready to
face the customers.
"Now Marie you will need training and as your mum I have been appointed
as your supervisor. You will be serving tables with me. You will need
to pay off your uniform from your salary as I don't have enough to buy
you your uniform right now with your university fees and obviously a lot
of your first salary will need to go on clothes and makeup so you don't
keep borrowing mine. Pretty much the rest of it will help pay for your
rent as you need to learn to stand on your own feet," Mum said reminding
me of the heels I was now wearing.
I was very nervous as I walked into the restaurant that the customers
would work out that I was a man. No one, however seemed to spot me or
if they saw how nervous I was put it down to first day nerves for the
new girl.
I was surprised and quite relieved that no one seemed to work out that I
am a man or at least if they did that they did not say anything. But
how was I going to get a girlfriend dressed like this? It was enough
for me to look at or rather ogle one of my sexy colleagues, Ophelia, to
start with. Wow, she was one hot blonde! But I wanted more. I wanted
to be her boyfriend.
At the end of my first service my calf muscles were agony and all I
could think of was getting these heels off me as quickly as I could.
However I had to walk a mile home in them before I could get them off.
Whilst Mum had a trench coat to cover herself I only had my uniform and
this meant a number of young men hooted as they drove by and wolf-
whistled. It was something I would probably have done but it was
unpleasant to be on the receiving end of this and I was pleased to have
my Mum with me.
"Don't worry sweetie, we'll be home soon." She kept reassuring me as
she saw the fear in my eyes. "You can borrow my trench coat tomorrow
and I will get changed at work, but you will need your own once you get
paid."
When we got home I remember Mum said, "Well now you really have had to
walk a mile in my shoes young lady do you understand why all I can think
of when I get home is getting out of these heels?"
"Absolutely Mum, and I would like to put back on my regular clothes." I
replied. I had naively thought when we got home I could at least get
out of my uniform and dress like a boy again but mum had other ideas.
Sure, she helped me out of my dress but instead of my boy clothes she
passed me a white lace negligee with a matching dressing gown.
I protested, "These aren't my regular clothes!"
"Marie, whilst you work for French Made you will dress as a woman at
home as well as at work. You remember how I am meant to be supervising
you, don't you? Well that includes at home. You see you will need to
work on female mannerisms as you have built up 21 years of bad male
mannerisms which will be inconsistent with your attire at work and cause
you problems. We can't have you thinking you are a man in your uniform,
can we? So I have bought you your first negligee to wear round the
house. I think really we should throw out your male clothes so that the
temptation to dress as a man isn't there but I will leave the decision
on throwing away your male clothes to you. But don't hold on to them
for too long."
Until I put on my negligee I didn't think I could feel more girly. So I
was now going to bed in a negligee! I would be spending all of my days
and all of my nights as a woman.
The next morning Mum came in to wake me with a fresh cup of coffee. She
was only wearing a dressing gown which was open revealing her black lace
negligee underneath. For a moment i thought it had all been some sort
of weird dream. Then my brain kicked into gear.
When had Mum ever come into my bedroom in only a negligee before? In
fact when had she ever come into my bedroom since I had hit puberty? As
I sat up I realised I was still wearing the negligee I had gone to bed
in. Instead of being annoyed that I was wearing a negligee, though, I
was relieved that I was not naked and smiled at Mum.
"Someone enjoys wearing her negligee!" Mum said and I realised I had a
hard on. "Hurry up we have an appointment at the beautician in 30
minutes. I have a dress you can borrow."
I waited for Mum to leave the room.
"Ok, ok I will turn my back whilst you take off your negligee and tuck
yourself into your panties but other than that something extra there's
nothing I haven't seen before."
She was right. Why was I feeling shy about Mum seeing my tits? It
wasn't like she hadn't glued them on me and didn't have her own natural
ones. Mum helped me into my bra and then zipped me into her cute little
black dress.
The visit to the beautician felt like we were visiting a temple for
women only. That feeling was brought home to me even more as I smelt
the joss sticks the receptionist was burning. I have tried to shut out
the pain that I then endured as the sadist beautician set about
stripping my arms, legs, chest and stomach of hair using wax strips. I
screamed in pain as she did this to me and she said that whilst I
otherwise looked more feminine than the other men she had seen my
reaction to my waxing was just like the other men. Women coped with the
pain far better. Once this had finished she then set about plucking my
eyebrows which were soon arched like any other woman.
By the time I had had my eyebrows done my male resistance to my
feminisation had been completely broken and I had become resigned to
being a shemale now. The beautician asked me if I wanted anything else
done and I decided I ought to have a manicure and pedicure.
Mum smiled. "Your Dad used to say I spent too much money on looking
after myself, but I can see you see the need to spend as much as I do on
your beauty treatment."
As I started to get used to being my mother's daughter and an object of
lust for our male customers at French Made I started to notice when I
was being eyed up by the female customers too. Eventually I got used to
being seen as an object of the female gaze too and I realised that
Ophelie was also checking out my tits, arse and legs. Was I the first
man ever to lust after a woman dressed the same as me who was also
lusting after me in the same way? Ogling Ophelie was natural to me but
realising that Ophelie was ogling me made me feel vulnerable and naked.
Mum said I could apply for jobs as a man whilst working at French Maid
but the people who came to interview me couldn't leave quick enough when
I sat down in front of them in my uniform.
"Never mind, Marie, at least you have a job here." Mum would say.
Eventually Ophelie made the first move and invited me to an ice cream
parlour on a date after work. Mum had leant me her beautiful little
black dress again. It had a v neck and whilst there were sleeves, it
was sort of shoulder less between the top of the sleeves and the neck
part of it. I was excited about wearing a different kind of dress to
the dresses I had been used to.
One of the first things Ophelie said to me was, "I thought I was an
ordinary heterosexual girl, until I met you."
I knew then that I had to let her in on my little secret. "Do you know
what cisgender means?" I asked her.
She didn't.
"It means someone who identifies with their birth sex and I am not
cisgender, sweetheart," I said.
"What, you mean you are heterosexual?"
"No, it means I am a man sweetheart."
"What? Why do you want to become a man? Why don't you want to remain a
woman?"
"No, underneath my clothes you will find I am all male."
Ophelie laughed. "So I am heterosexual after all! You had me fooled I
thought you were a woman."
"Don't tell anyone at work," I begged her.
Ophelie promised not to and was good to her word.
A few weeks later Ophelie came to live with Mum and I but as she was
studying Women's studies at university and only worked part time her
salary was largely eaten up paying for the extra food.
Whilst Mum and Ophelie would talk about her studies and have
intellectual conversations about the feminist movement they said they
had noticed how I had become obsessed with fashion and shopping. I
guess it was true that I spent a lot of time reading fashion and beauty
magazines these days and my male wardrobe had all been thrown away. In
short I had become the bimbo I had always thought my mother was.
Lauryn
- 29.04.2022
- 16
- 0
