21 Part 3 free porn video

Twenty One By Jena Corso Edited by Angela Meyers Chapter 3 "She'll be right there, Coach Nolan," said Tara, pulling his arm around the corner towards the gym. "Shit, hurry up, I told you that you have to change and it was all I could do to get them to let you race first so we could squeeze it in." "Tara, I can't race as a girl," said Bob, holding up his nails. "Look at me." "You'll be fine, and why do you think we planned these braids," said Tara, pulling him inside the gym and then into the family bathroom. "This do is aerodynamic like all the women of track. Now you can't let your team down. It's girl power, and we ladies never do!" "Yeah, but you compete against girls not guys," replied Bob, seeing her take the girls track uniform out of a duffel bag. "Oh I'm..." "A girl now," replied Tara, finishing his sentence. "Glad you're adjusting so well, but.." "But nothing," said Bob, finishing her. "Please don't put anymore words in my mouth, and you know I can't go out there like this." "Of course you can and will! Girls can beat boys?" said Tara, undoing his clothes. "Didn't I already teach you that, and did you really want to lose again to Western high?" "But..." whined Bob. "But nothing! Scratch and claw like a girl and just go out and win," said Tara, holding open some tight bike shorts. "Now pull back your junk and step in. These are already a size or two too small, and under your shorts no one will see a thing." Before he could complain anymore, he looked down, feeling uncomfortable and seeing no bulge as she snapped the tight bike shorts over his panties. It was but another second until she changed him into a basic sports bra and then like it or not, the girl's white crop tank with red trim and school logo followed. This was all such a bad nightmare as girls red shorts with white swirls were on next, and he was shivering as he looked down at himself, about to race boys in the girls red track uniform. "Chill, I'll even tie your shoes," said Tara, seeing him panic, trying to flip the laces over in his sneakers as he struggled knotting them with his nails. "Hoo ..ll..yyy shitttt," Sighed Bob, freaking out as she stood up. "Some of these other schools know me and now I'm racing them as a chick! I may fall apart out there." "You won't," said Tara, pushing at his small boobs and making sure his sports bra and top were just right. "I have all the confidence in the world in you, and maybe I took you in hoops but never in track. Now nothing is falling out or popping out, I promise. One sec to make sure there's no fly aways and you go kick some ass." With the back of her hand, she made sure his crotch was nice and smooth and then took a few clips from her purse. At each temple she snapped a white metalic clip and then looped a tiny red bow at the end of each braid to make sure they wouldn't come undone. When she opened the door, he was ready to piss his pants, seeing the other athletes confused as he jogged out on the track. No one really paid him much mind after the initial glance as he stretched like anyone else off to the side, and then he could see a few looks of bewilderment that a girl would be running against them. With his coach and teammates already knowing his situation, all he got were a few smirks and sarcastic remarks from his teammates when he came over for last minute instruction, as lucky there wasn't much time for further belittlement. About half the other kids looked familiar from other races and then he realized next to him on the track was their school's rival, Western high. "At least I know why I always beat you and your school so easily, Taylor," said a boy. "All year I thought I was just racing against a wimpy dude, but now I realize the fastest kid they have for this race is a chick. I've got some new found respect." "You know..." Bob started getting angry and then tried to keep his composure. "Forget it... Good luck Zeigler." Bob was dying to punch out the arrogant asshole, but obviously that wasn't an option in his current condition. Even in his prior attire, that wouldn't be possible anyway, as Ryan Zeigler was a good eight inches taller and he knew anyone picking a fight would be suspended in school. Only the latter might be a positive at the moment, and then the announcer removed any tension as he had signaled to get set in their blocks. When the gun sounded, he was off at the crack, suddenly sprinting for the last time before graduation, with his braids flying in the wind. It took only to get around the first turn to realize he was in the lead for the first time all year, as he ran as fast as he could. It was almost like his feet weren't touching the ground, as he had never run like this before, as maybe all his prom stress took all the pressure off the race. One the last turn, he was still ahead, racing for home and then suddenly Zeigler was at his side in the straight away. He could taste the sweetness though of his first victory as he pulled ahead and then leaned his chest forward as he strode for the finish. It was his closest finish ever, sticking out his little boobs at the tape, but unfortunately Ryan Zeigler had something better than little faux boobs, closing speed at the finish. His high school career was over, with his last race completed as he jogged over, accepting the second place medal and the felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey great race Bobbi, and thanks for being a great opponent'. said Ryan, giving him a hug. "I'll tag you on Instagram later, as my dad says they have a great picture of the photo finish." "Oh thanks," replied Bob, feeling uneasy with a guy's big hand rubbing his bare back. "You know if I would have known I was racing a girl all this time, I wouldn't have been such a jerk, so I'm sorry about that! I was just being a typical dick and I apologize," said Ryan, taking out a pen and writing down his number on a small sheet of paper and placing it in Bobby's hand. "Hopefully now that we're not rivals anymore, you'll call me, and what do you say maybe I could take you out some time." "Bobbi, we gotta go," yelled Tara waving as Bob was never happier to be pulled away. "Sorry, got to go," said Bob, pulling away and running off. "Ok, Iook for my message," yelled Ryan. "Thanks," said Bob, hurrying by Tara and pulling her with him. "Wherever we're going is better than here." "Oh I doubt that!" said Tara, smiling and then looking at his medal. "Didn't you say you've never come higher than third?" "Well yes, so at least I finally got second," said Bob, slightly proud of himself. "Maybe all you needed was the right outfit, and I told you the braids are aerodynamic," Tara quipped as they hurried inside, locking the door to the private locker room. "And maybe all I needed was running for my life from guys," Bob joked as she started stripping him down. "But you weren't running from all of them?" said Tara, prying open his hand. "Were you?" "You know I was," said Bob, getting defensive. "It's fine. He was really cute, and I won't tell your prom date," Tara laughed, pulling off his shorts and shoes. "It's not like you officially have a boyfriend just yet anyway?" "Please stop," said Bob, as she stripped him down to his panties. "It's not even funny, and when are you going to tell me who I'm stuck hanging out with that night?" "Loosen up! Of course it's funny, and why so anxious?" smiled Tara, stepping back folding her arms. "Trust me!" said Bob annoyed. "I'm not anxious at all." "Good, because I'm still undecided, but I'm sure he'll just adore you once I'm done with you," said Tara, squishing his cheeks before pulling the ends of his braids and pinning them atop his head. "Now body shower only and don't wet anything above your shoulders. I'll wait right here while you clean up, and I need a minute anyway with my travel iron." She handed him a bottle of floral scented body wash and he stepped into the shower. It was only one quick race so he wasn't that sweaty, but at least relished the momentary breather in the shower. He wasn't sure which was worse, that he was asked out by a competitor finding him attractive in the girl's uniform, or that Ryan more easily accepted that he could have been a girl racing against him all year. When he stepped out, Tara practically pounced on him, squirting moisturizer into her palm and rubbing it all over his arms and shoulders. She had gotten a bit more aggressive, barely worrying about his privacy anymore as she rubbed down his legs almost up to his privates under the towel before wiping her hands and handing him his panties. She turned again, ironing a black item on the wood bench and then quickly back around the moment she heard the waist band snap. He had stepped into the lacey, high cut nude colored panties which were much smaller than what he was used to, and then she slid on the matching bra. She reached inside her duffel bag now, pulling out and filling it with more springy falsies as he felt the difference immediately, now having grown used to the weight. She then carefully took the garment she was ironing from the bench before unplugging it and quickly dropped it over his head. "So all this will take a bit of getting used to, but you're doing so well, Bobbi," said Tara, taking out a shoe box and patting the bench. "Just be careful sitting on this splintery bench and we're gone in a few minutes." "It's crazy this little weight?" said Bob, amused at his chest. "Is that what it's really like?" "Well I guess?" said Tara, putting on his shoes and then taking her hand, weighting one of her boobs. "I mean obviously it's a more realistic feel than just the padded bras with the foam inserts we had you in, but you know what... It's just us girls here, right. Just let me finish tying your shoes and feel for yourself." At first he wasn't sure if he heard her right, and then she stood up, taking his hand. It was the craziest thing he could have imagined as he found his right hand underneath her left boob, weighing it and copping a feel. "I mean does it?" she said as she began undoing his braid. "I guess obviously right now mine are bigger, but we may need to make you quite a bit bustier depending on the dress we pick. I just figured for now you'd be more comfortable a little smaller, especially your first few days in school but what do you think?" "Me?" said Bob, not wanting to let go. "Yeah, I mean I'd let you have a say in a few things, but most likely bigger will be better in a prom dress," said Tara, taking his other hand and putting them both on her boobs now. "Like feel more than the weight, because when they're full it just makes your shape so much better, and realistically Bobby you have no curves at all on that skinny frame of yours." "These are amazing!" said Bob, squeezing them, feeling his mouth water and dying to suckle them. "Glad you like them," Tara laughed, pushing down his hands. "Now I'll keep that in mind and don't make this weird please." "Sorry," gulped Bob, knowing he was rock hard as Tara was shaking a pump spray. "Don't be embarrassed," said Tara, glancing down as she began picking through his hair, spritzing with her hairspray. "We're in an adjustment period, and in a way it's flattering. A little too late for Robert Taylor but fine for Miss Bobbi Taylor. And it's why you're in outfits that can hide the problem when we need to or when you're not we just do some things like we did with the bike shorts. It's fine, and you're just about ready." "Ok," gulped Bob as she changed right in front him as he got to his feet. He was instantly much more dressed up and for the first time, as he felt his feet at a strangle angle. Being nice and loose from just running, the tension seemed lessoned as he flexed his ankle, quickly realizing he was making his debut in heels. It wasn't too tough standing at the odd angle, as the Espadrille sandal felt soft and easily supported him, showing the row of his red toes. The thick, three inch camel beige wedge almost felt springy at he took a step or two, and the soft white sandal's laces held the shoe in place as they looped around his foot and were tied around his ankles. Above them, his short white floral dress flared out about mid-calf, easily disguising his little bump and on top the sleeveless scoop-neck design flattered his thin frame. Large hibiscus fuchsia and yellow flowers with a red stamen center formed a delicate spring pattern amongst the green leaves, as he was now no longer dressed for high school. A Yeshan rhinestone and crystal tooth comb, plastic hairband had been dug through his scalp, pulling his loose hair away from his face, creating a slick gelled combed through dimension behind his forehead. With his braids out, his hair now exploded behind the crystals in a series of tight S-waves, delivering an almost permed look sitting in a thick mass behind his shoulders. She had changed only his lip color from the darker matte to a more natural soft pink gloss, and touched up his face just a bit, giving him a fresh clean natural appearance. With a big pink shoulder bag across his right side, he followed her outside and off campus as she texted back and forth coordinating their ride. He wasn't sure if his new softer image was better or not as they hopped in the back of an Uber, knowing they were now dressed like two young women as Tara gave the driver the address. He already knew she had his week plotted and precisely scheduled, so every minute of his life had been arranged until the moment he'd step into the prom. As the cab pulled up, she'd be taking another calculated step to get him ready as they pulled up at the curb of a small high end mall. She paid the driver with the credit card and looped her arm through his, smiling as he had little choice following her inside as she flipped open the glass exterior door. With women shopping everywhere, she lead him to a small center kiosk that was manned by a few Asian women, and immediately realized what he was in for, seeing them working on another teen age girl. "Hi! Appointment for Bobbi Taylor," said Tara. "She has a 4:30 threading." As the woman pointed towards an open chair, it was hard not to watch them working on another client and then down in the chair he went. "Not too much, right?" said Bob to Tara as she stood by his side, looking at the posted chart of shapes. "Number six for her, and no tinting, please?" said Tara, pointing and then tapping his forearm to comfort him. "Relax, this may not make sense to you, but this is something where you can always fill them in if they get too thin. Trust me, they were gross before. I didn't make them bushy, and even guys do this all the time these days." He sat back, not liking the sound of that, knowing now this could actually be worse than he expected, as the woman approached with two small stringsin her hand. She pushed closed his eye, but he peeked just a little as the thin cotton thread stretched across his brow line, sweeping along his skin before being twisted into a double strand. Just feeling the first strand being yanked from his head, he wanted to scream from the pinch, but he already knew it was futile as he sat clinging to the chair. With rhythmic movement, hair after hair were secured in the thread and lifted from the follicle with precision and finesse, as he sat knowing his brow line would be bushy no more. It was an uncomfortable but not that overly painful fifteen minutes as he acted as tough as he could in a dress, and then it was over as she tapped him to get up. When he reached up to feel it, Tara pushed his hand down, wasting not even a second as she lead him to their next stop. It was just a few kiosks away, and then he could see her leading him towards the piercing pagoda as right inside he went. He had always thought about piercing his ears, but his mother was never a fan of it on boys, so he wavered about doing it and at least today that would be his somewhat uncertain fringe benefit. Back in a chair again, Tara described what she wanted to the young girl working there, and then the rest was history as he cringed just a touch as the gun popped repeatedly in each ear. Not even a half hour was gone from his visit and suddenly he was double pierced, and eyebrows arched as quickly she had them on the move again. It was only ten yards away, as right inside Sephora they went as she led him right down a center aisle loaded with cosmetics and to a stool in the back. "Hey Claire!" said Tara, hugging a girl in the back. "Tara, I love that peach gloss on you and I'm so excited," replied Claire, patting her stool. "Sit honey! So finally I get to meet the famous hoop star in the flesh." "Yup, this is her!" said Tara, as Claire wrapped a little cap over him as he sat down. "Not bad, right?" "When I saw him on video, I thought you were bringing me more of a challenge," Joked Claire, touching his face and moving it all around. "He's already cute with the little bit you've done here. This won't even be that tough making her gorgeous." "That's crazy, right!" smiled Tara as Claire began cleaning off any makeup he was wearing. "Ok, any idea of the dress and colors," said Claire. "Plus, what do you need?" "Well I'm thinking..." Tara began to say before whispering into Claire's ear and then resuming. "But that's just a thought until her fitting, so we'll see, and really she needs everything.. but we were all using our own stuff on her so far. You know me, his sister, his mom... and even a few cheer girl like Amanda, whose foundation seemed the closest we had." "Yeah.. bad idea and you knew I'd say that," said Claire, as she began dotting some different colors on her wrist and then his chin. "Vanessa is a tanning freak, and not even close to his color right now, and obviously neither one of them get their coloring from their mother's side. I'll set you up the right way." "Thanks, that's why we're here." Tara grinned as Claire was blotting all over his face now. "She's already finding out how much goes into being someone's prom date." "Am I ever?" gulped Bob as she blended and sponged. "Well, when you need everything like you do, Miss Bobbi," said Claire, brushing under his eyes. "It's expensive, but if you're going to spend as much as I'm sure you're in the process of spending... not point skimping, darling." "And she hasn't been," said Tara, glancing at her watch as Bob looked down at the huge palette of colors now. "So I'll let you do your thing Claire, and text me when he's more 'she', ok? I'll be right back and I'll bring us back some frappuccinos?" "Perfect, extra skim please," said Claire, dipping a blush brush into some color. "Now suck in those cheeks and hold it doll." There he was now, sitting like a regular girl in the back of a huge cosmetics store, having his makeup done all alone. It was nothing like Tara and the gang just slapping a little color on his face in his bedroom as they readied him for school, instead now he was being professionally made up, as brush after brush touched his face. It was impossible not to wonder if they were teasing or serious about it not being that difficult to make him attractive, but he already kind of knew they might be serious, especially after he felt sick that Ryan thought he was really a girl all along now. Between his lashes being curled and the array of false ones she held against him debating against herself, he'd knew soon he'd be sporting a more convincing look, as he pressed on his upper lid and then finally finished the endless work on his lids. He had to admit he was getting anxious himself when she drew at the outline of his lips with a pencil and slowly but surely painted them in. It was weird somehow, now getting multiple coats of some paste on his mouth as she layered, and then finally he knew it was just about over as Tara returned with their coffees. "Get OUT!" yelled Tara with a huge smile. "Oh Claire! Wow girl!" "Better than not bad then, right!" said Claire, adding some finishing powder and taking her drink from Tara. "And thank you for the coffee and the compliment." "Mom is going to wig out," giggled Vanessa, sipping her straw and handing him a coffee. "Oh you're here now, too?" whined Bob, sarcastically taking his coffee. "Great?" "Just sip slowly through the straw and that lip color is set, anyway," said Claire, spinning his chair. "Here, you take a look for yourself while I go get everything together for you." "Maybe just not yet, in case you choke on it." Tara pulled it away before he could sip it. "Shiittt," sighed Bob softly, stifling himself, mortified as he saw his reflection. All he could utter was a soft curse, speechless as he stared at the shocking result as he was cognizant of the women buzzing around him shopping for beauty products. He had already adjusted to his face with a hint of makeup and seen makeovers on tv, yet never really focused on the outcomes, but now was completely baffled that his face could actually look like this. "Good thought Tara." Vanessa nodded, putting her face next to his and smiling in the mirror next to him. "Damn, if I'd have known I would have scheduled myself today too, because you know I can't not be the pretty sister in the family." "Yeah well not today you're not!" giggled Tara as they made him completely uncomfortable now. Bobby wanted to jump up and punch his sister, growing angry, but the more be stared at his own image he knew she was right. With his sister looking more natural with just a hint of makeup, she couldn't compare to his suddenly glammed up appearance. It was tough touching the dramatically arched brows, and even worse feeling them barely existing. At the inside of his eye, they were just a touch thicker but the slim high arch wouldn't be close to anything bushy like he had previously. Below them now, an off white creamy accent color softly faded into a saddle brown shadow and then blended into a darker hazelnut at the outer creases. It was amazing how much detail went into his eyes, as a hint of copper glimmered near terracotta upper and lower outer edges, before the blackened out inner water lines formed catlike eyes. His blue eyes now shone like big beacons, underneath huge fanned false lashes, and it seemed crazy that as they curled back, they sat well under his new thin brow line. Another first for him were his cheeks glistening, as a bronzer shone above a burnt brick blush, but it was his lips that sparkled even brighter off his flawless complexion. They were huge, no flashes of color, but instead a salmon pink still drew your eyes to his expertly defined lips, and instead their high gloss finish made them pop off his face. Between the rhinestones in his head band, the glimmer off the diamond studs in his ears and his whitened teeth sparkling in synch with his lips, he almost needed sun glasses just to stare at himself, as he stood up from his stool, realizing more than just the girls appreciated his new look. Instinctively, he looked down after it was like his heart skipped a beat, never more thankful for a flaring skirt in his life, as Claire reappeared, handing him a shopping bag and a receipt. "So in there you'll find the Sephora warm eye shadow palette of which everything I used is there, and i figured a nice Bobbi Brown foundation and concealer were never more appropriate than for you, Bobbi," said Claire, pointing out things. "You've got two sets of Huda mini-lip colors, so plenty of variety, and then mascara, liner, a blush set and a nice makeup case for your pocketbook. Don't carry it all with you all the time, but it's everything you need and I'll see you Friday before prom at the salon. So we good, ladies?" "I'd say so. I think that's perfect for her," hugged Tara. "You're amazing." "Yup, I know," teased Claire, flicking her wrist before hugging Vanessa and then hugging Bob. "And you're going to be a heartbreaker prom night, Bobbi. Good luck girls." Bob could barely utter a sound, having a slurp of his drink and then he was on his way with the girls. He could barely stop glancing around nervously, as it was mostly women who paid them no mind shopping during the week as they shared three salads at the mall food court. "Ok, the lip color is long wear, so just the gloss," said Tara, handing him a little compact after she opened it and a tube of gloss. "Go ahead. You need to handle little stuff like this yourself." Any resistance he could have even had was futile as he stared at his face and softly glided on the gloss. It was insane that he'd ever be doing this to himself, but he was as he smacked his lips together, amazed at how he looked. "You kidding me," squealed a voice as Bob looked up, just as he finished coating his lips and was screwing the top closed. "Oh Bobbbbiii!" "Perfect timing, Mrs. Taylor," said Tara, as Bob snapped the compact shut. "We just finished a bite." "He looks incredible," said his mother, getting emotional. "I can't believe it! If I would have known, I would have left work early and taken all my girls to dinner." "Mom, probably better you didn't," said Vanessa, as her mother was moving around Bob's face, admiring the work. "Just this might be emotional enough." "Just what?" gulped Bob. "Isn't this enough?" "Honey, I came for your fitting, and to help pick your dress," said his mother, looking into his eyes. "I wouldn't miss that for the world, and did you think they made you up so glamorously to just walk around stores?" "Like I'd have a clue," groaned Bob, as she took his arm and they began walking. "Probably not, but either way adjust your mind and don't you dare embarrass me or any of the girls," said his mothe, taking issue with his attitude. "They know us well at the boutique, so park the attitude young lady. You brought this all on yourself, not anyone else, now don't you even think about being anything but a perfect little angel while you try on anything we ask. We on the same page now, Bobbi?" "Yes," sighed Bob, looking away as up the escalator they went. He was just one of the girls walking as they walked past Nordstrom and then down a wing of fancy boutiques. All four of them were certainly more dressy than just your normal mall visit in jeans, as they were dressed appropriately to enter more high end stores. At the end of the corridor, he could see the mannequins in huge puffy dresses and fancy gowns, realizing his destination was upon him. When they went inside, it was like they had been thrust into Candyland, as bright lights, bright colors, and sparkling outfits illuminated everywhere the eye could see. Even after all he had been through, being embarrassed in school or made up like a diva, it still all didn't sink in until he realized he was about to be dressed as a princess. "Go evening, Mrs. Taylor," said a rather flamboyant older gentlemen, hugging his mother. "I'm so honored and so excited to be dressing another Miss Taylor, and a very special young lady at that, I understand! No offense my gorgeous Vanessa, and you ladies look fabulous this evening." "None taken, Philippe," smiled Vanessa, cheek kissing Phillippe. "This is exciting for all of us." "Come, ladies. Please come and you know we can't have these drinks inside, right?" said Philippe, taking their half drunken coffees and tossing them in the trash as they followed him into a private area. "Now everything off Bobbi, and I've already gathered a few of the options you texted me, Tara. While I measure her, you go try on your dress and let's see how it fits. We've got so much to do and so little time. You girls are lucky we've gotten in such fabulous inventory lately, or you'd be going to the prom in cheap department store garbage'. "Oh gawd no! I'll help you, Tara," cringed Vanessa, shivering as she headed into a dressing area with Tara as his mother sat there. "Shoes off, strip down and up on the platform, doll," said Philippe, walking over and taking out his measuring tape. "You know the drill." "Actually, he really doesn't remember," said his mother, unlacing his espadrilles and unzipping the back of his dress. "So sorry!" said Philippe, shaking his head. "He's so pretty it's impossible to keep straight. Kinda like me." Philippe and his mother shared a quick giggle as Bob wasn't as giddy stepping up onto the platform in nothing but his bra and panties. Around his hips went the tape, and then it followed around his waist as Philippe jotted down notes and measurements. "This we're going to take off for now, and we'll see what we'll do here later, love'. said Philippe, taking off his bra before measuring his natural bust and then measuring his arms. There were so many measurements as he measured between his legs to the floor and then used the back of his hand, pushing inward at his crotch, measuring around his ass. It was awkward and a bit humiliating as he stood there being manhandled as Tara returned in her dress. "Oh Tara," said his mother, seeing her in the seafoam slinky low cut gown. "Justin's a lucky boy." "Is she sexy or what?" Vanessa asked as Bob looked down, staring at her from above, amazed. "What do you think, Bobbi?" said Tara, looking up at him posing as Philippe walked over, checking her out. "The fit is pretty good right, and I'm in love with this color?" "I guess," said Bob, foaming at the mouth, trying not to get excited as all he could think about was that it should be him with her in a dress instead of him about to be put in one. He still could not believe that she would be going with Justin, as that all seemed too hard to fathom as he just wanted to go back in time like none of this had ever happened. He wished they were alone so he could tell her how hot she looked, and he couldn't stop staring at her boobs practically pooping out of the dress, thinking about nothing except only hours earlier they were sitting the same way in his hands, instead of that eye popping dress. "Perfect Tara," said Philippe, checking the fit and spinning her around. "For a one day turn around, that couldn't be better." "You guys are so amazing here," said Tara, loving her dress. "I'm so glad you brought me here, Mrs. Taylor. I'm so grateful." "Oh please, it's me that's grateful that Vanessa has such a good friend," said their mother, flipping her wrist and then looking over at Bob. "And I guess that my other daughter has someone taking such good care of her while she learns such a valuable life lesion. Right honey?" "Yes mom," replied Bob as she gave him a stare that he better agree. "Go change then Tara, and well see if you all feel that way after the flat chested challenge you brought me today," Joked Philippe, walking back over to Bob with a small package as Tara ran in the dressing room. "Curvy girls are easy, but I always keep a few tricks in stock. No, don't mind us ladies, and you'll need to forget any humility you came with darling. Clients can never be too shy in front of their stylists. Mrs. Taylor, if you won't mind, your other daughter needs work?" Bobby never expected his little panties to be pulled straight down in front of his mother and sister, as his mother quickly put her hand in front of Vanessa's eyes as she turned anyway, not wanting to see. Bob was beet red seeing his mother notice everything as Philippe quickly had him inside a different type of nude panty and then expertly tucked him back. Like an illusionist, he made his testicles disappear inside him as Bob gasped momentarily and then looked down, astonished as the illusion was his new reality as he appeared completely smooth as Philippe wedged the elastic up tightly. "Wow," said Tara, coming back in the room. "Where's the.. I mean." "Let's just say its tucked away in a safe place," said Philippe, extending his hand like it was a trick. "We may not even need to do this in some dresses, but for a few options it would be absolutely necessary. Now let's get started, ladies." "I can't wait!" sighed Vanessa, sitting back, grabbing her mother's arm, all excited. "Her shoe size in women's?" asked Philippe. "She's been in an eight and a half, and a nine in sneakers," said Tara, sitting next to them like they were judges. "Wonderful, I'll pull a nine for now then," said Philippe, opening a drawer and taking a size nine spikey heeled slipper. "Step in when I tell you doll, and I'll be doing everything from here." He stood on display as they whispered uncomfortably to each other in only his gaff, and then finally spikey high heeled slippers, holding Phillippe's shoulder as he stepped into them. They were nothing like the wedges he stood in easily, as he balanced, swaying a little, using his hands as Phillippe walked outside the room. He felt more like he was standing atop a telephone pole like David Blaine for days, yet those days were really seconds as Philippe wheeled in a rack filled with dresses. The colors of his Candyland were now no longer a rainbow, instead it was more Cotton Candy land as he started at a sea of pink. There was plenty of variations of what appeared to be material and texture, but the rainbow now spanned only from pale pink to fuchsia to hot pink, as his base color of some sort of pink seemed already decided. When Philippe dropped the first dress over his head, he wanted to crawl under a rock, noticing the sheer joy it brought Tara as she loved every moment of them dressing him. Down to the floor went huge layers of tulle, and his entire bodice glistened in the huge, floor length gown. Picture after picture he was forced to smile for as they debated every ounce of material and every inch of the fit. As quickly as each dress went on, then that's how quickly each went off, as he realized instantly they were working their way down the rack. A silk slender gown followed, and then a delicate one shoulder silhouette. Long cuts on one leg were debated against tight mermaid shapes, and by the seventh or eighth gown, he was like a dog stepping in and out on command. They played with his bust line, going big and then small, and at times put him in even higher heels. They pulled his hair up and down, endlessly debating as it was exhausting just listening to their banter or being photographed. He really had no idea even which way they were leaning as he tried on dresses a second time as they added and subtracted shapeware and cinchers, altering his figure and experimenting. When they finally decided on restrictive undergarment choices, he had to step out of his shoes and his mother had to hold him in place as Philippe corseted him so tightly he almost fell over. It felt like it would never end when some dresses returned for the third time and then they started labeling some as finalists. Tara must have taken a good hundred pictures of him before Philippe brought in a half dozen more dresses, and then even two other stylists for their opinions. His face was growing tired from all the smiling, but he needed his second wind when they started adding wigs and tiaras. "I'm afraid to ask, but are we almost done?" Bob asked, almost not wanting to know the answer as his hair was being stuffed inside a mound of curls in a big wig. "Don't you want everything perfect?" said Tara, smirking. "Well did you? Or Vanessa? Or does every girl go through this?" Bob asked, being yanked around as they zipped him up again. "It's hard to believe you try on so much? Does it really matter?" "What do you think mor-" Vanessa started to say. "It's ok," interrupted Bob. "Forget I even asked. In fact forget I said anything." "Much better attitude, honey," said his mother, nodding. "I think you're really learning the lesson we were all hoping for." "Bobbi, it's not what doesn't look good on you," said Tara, getting up and rubbing his back. "It's just what's best. There's actually too many good choices, and I know it's tiring, but you make an excellent Barbie if that means anything to you. For what its worth, that means a lot to the rest of us." "Great," said Bob sarcastically, as again they changed his wig. It was still another good half hour of changes, debates and conversation and then finally they were all in agreement. It was like a breath of fresh air to be back in his soft, forgiving floral dress without any constriction and now his wedges felt like sneakers. After Tara paid the bill with her credit card, he couldn't wait to get home, as off they went in his mother's car, talking dresses and hair all the way home. His bed never looked so inviting, and not a complaint left his lips as he quickly hurried to change, seeing the clean cotton panties, silk pajamas that were laid out. He grabbed them, hurrying into the bathroom, dying to get out of the tight gaff and curious if he'd feel like he did the previous night. At first it was nothing, instead more of a relief freeing his trapped member as he pulled down the elastic, knowing he had a much more stressful day. It actually wasn't as easy kicking it off over his little wedges and then finally he felt free, picking it up and tossing it in the hamper. He turned, taking in his professionally made up reflection, still kind of in awe and reached behind his ear, feeling the little backs of his studs. It was surreal that these posts had actually been pierced through his lobes, and he tugged on his wavy hair behind it, reminding himself none of this was a dream. Whether it was or wasn't, his former limp member had now made himself present, as Bob couldn't resist the well made up girl that stared back at him, reaching under his dress once again this evening. It took only a dozen or so yanks until his wavy hair shivered in the mirror and he quickly turned, lifting his dress as he pointed at the bowl. A few good squeezes and it was over, amazed at the feelings of elation as he barely worked up an ounce of sweat. Quickly he pulled off his dress and untied his shoes, almost over come with exhaustion as he wiped the last, dripping and flushed for the second time. Happily in his clean panties and pajamas he headed to his bedroom, where his mother awaited with a big jar and a towel. She globbed cold cream now all over his face and then helped wipe him clean as it felt weird having her rip the lashes from his lids. One last scrubbing with an ointment felt so gross as he looked down, amazed at how dirty the towelettes looked as she continually wiped across his eyes. One last glob or two on his neckline and then finally she was finished, as he was dying for bed now as she pulled out his headband. It was a smell that he hated when his sister and mother left the bathroom, but now he no longer cared as it was ingrained in his nostrils, happily going to bed. With his mind and his body confused and exhausted, it would be a welcome night's rest, as out like a light he went.