The Agency
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The Agency free porn video
Agency
The question I get most is how in the world did I get started. It's
complicated. I don't think it could have been predicted at the
beginning.
I was just a kid, living alone with Mom in an apartment. Mom worked in
insurance. I went to school. Since I lived alone with Mom, it was
natural that I was fascinated with her. She wasn't particularly pretty,
but she was home all the time I was. Puberty hit me pretty hard. I
didn't have any friends to talk to about it. I just picked up what I
could from conversations I overheard. Mom and I went to church a lot,
and I had a reputation at school as a religious fanatic, not because of
anything I did, but because the church had that reputation.
I was small, smart, and shy, so I got bullied, like any kid who is
different does, but I certainly wasn't the only one. Of course, when
you're an adolescent, everything is the end of the world. I talked to
Mom about it because we talked about everything. That's pretty much
where that issue lay for a while. I complained about it, but there was
nothing either of us could do.
One Saturday night we were home, alone, as usual, and Mom drank a few
glasses of wine. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was trying to
polish her toenails and making a mess of it. I was sitting next to her
watching TV and her. She was getting more frustrated by the minute, so
finally she stopped, looked at me and said, "This is impossible! Can you
do it for me?" She handed me the polish, put the remover in front of me,
and put her foot in my lap. I helped zip her up all the time, so this
was just a little more and I didn't think anything of it. I used the
polish remover and took all of the polish off her toes and started all
over. I took my time, doing it right, as was my way. After a couple of
toes she sent me to get her another glass of wine and drank it as I
finished the job. In truth, it was pretty easy. I was 12 and had great
eyesight, and enjoyed spending the time with Mom and talking to her.
This became a sort of Saturday night ritual. We started going to the
drugstore and picking out the color from time to time. I'd then do her
toes with whatever polish we had or had selected for the week while she
drank wine and we talked. It was no big deal to me.
School had just finished and summer vacation had started the day before
when, one Saturday night, as were doing pretty much as normal, she looked
at me thoughtfully and said, "Why don't you polish yours the same color?
It'll be fun."
I was putting the stuff away and stopped, somewhat surprised. "My Lord,
Mom, I can't polish my toenails."
"Why not?"
I hesitated, trying to judge if she'd just drunk too much. I could only
remember four glasses, which was pretty normal. I decided she was as
sober as she ever was on Saturday night, so replied, "Because only girls
polish their toenails."
She laughed. "Not so. Sissies polish theirs, if they can get away with
it. Wouldn't you like to be my sissy? I won't tell anybody, come on,
it'll be fun. My goodness, we could have a great time this summer. I'd
love for you to be my sissy. Nobody will know, except you and me. It'll
be our secret."
"I don't think so, Mom."
She smiled. Her laughing and smiling just didn't happen that often. "Oh
don't be a stick in the mud. We can go tomorrow and buy panties for you.
Nobody will know."
"Panties, Mom?"
"Sure, pink ones, with ruffles. Or, I guess, red ones to match your
toenails." She wiggled her toes for emphasis and kept smiling. "We can
wear pink nail polish another time."
"Mom, I can't do that."
"Yes, you can. Let's do it. Come on, polish your toenails and we'll
just try it tonight and if we like it, decide what to do next tomorrow.
Come on." I don't believe I'd ever seen her so playful, so I gave in,
sort of.
"Tonight only, and if it isn't fun I can take it off tomorrow?"
"Yep. But it's going to be fun, just wait." She reached over and
stroked my head.
So I did. I took off my tennis shoes and socks and polished my toenails
the same color as Mom's. We spent the rest of the evening sitting
together on the couch, with our bare feet next to each other. I'll admit
I did like seeing it. Mom made sure our feet were next to each other, or
even entangled when she put her leg over mine, all evening, so every time
I looked down, I saw our feet, with the same color polish. She even let
me have a couple of swallows of wine. She really enjoyed herself,
wiggling her toes, stroking my foot with hers and putting her foot right
next to mine for easy comparison. In short, we had a great time. I
carried my shoes and socks to my room and that night and fell asleep
thinking about my polished toes.
The next morning I got up and dressed, and I noticed my toes as I put on
my shoes and socks. To tell the truth, I thought Mom would have
forgotten about it. Not so. She immediately said, "Oh, no, go put on
your flip flops so we can see our pretty toes." She lifted up her foot
and showed hers to me.
I paused trying to think of something to say.
"Hurry, while I make the waffles. The bacon is already done."
Breakfast was my favorite meal, and this was my favorite breakfast. I
didn't argue, I just went to my room, removed my shoes and socks and put
on my flip-flops and came back in the kitchen as the first waffle was
coming out of the iron.
She made me two waffles that morning, and we sat at the table with our
feet almost touching. I couldn't take my eyes off them.
"Let's go to Sears and get you some panties today, and maybe a couple of
blouses and pairs of pedal pushers and a couple of training bras.
"Mom."
"What. Surely you agree with me that this is fun. Why not go further?
That'll be more fun. It's Sunday, there won't be many people around. We
can shop in peace. We can get you lipsticks and mascara, the whole kit
and caboodle for summer fun, plus your clothes. Then we can come back
home and get you all fixed up." She was obviously looking forward to all
this and, while I thought it might be a little embarrassing, it might
also be fun, something new, and who besides me and Mom would know?
By the end of the day that Sunday, she had me all dressed up the way she
wanted, with my hair brushed and combed a different way and my
fingernails polished, too. I looked very feminine and she loved it and
kept on telling me how much fun she was having. I didn't know what to
think, but she was enjoying herself so much, I just went along, but, to
be fair, it was fun.
That's how I spent that summer, in a girl's wardrobe, wearing makeup
every day. I didn't go out much, and we were pretty circumspect when I
did. We shopped at a different A&P across town, for instance. We went
to a K-Mart 35 miles away so I could try on clothes with little chance of
discovery. She had a blast. I may have been a little less enthusiastic,
but I certainly enjoyed myself.
At the end of summer, our little dress-up game ended. I told her in no
uncertain terms that I couldn't go to school with polished nails or
panties due to PE, and having to strip. She agreed that was probably too
much to ask. That school year, I still polished her toes, but I didn't
polish mine, except when we had school days off.
Eighth grade was little better than seventh. I was still small, and an
even larger percentage of boys were bigger than I. I still got picked
on, but my grades didn't suffer. I ended up with the best grades in the
eighth grade of some 400+ students. That further incited my remaining
tormentors. I complained to Mom, a lot.
After the first of that year, Mom opened her own agency and we moved in
to an apartment behind her office, which put me in a different school
zone.
The next summer Mom and I played again every day. I got my ears pierced
and just generally enjoyed it more than I had the first year when I did
it to mainly humor Mom. It was all coming to an end, though. Summer was
winding down, school was coming, I wasn't particularly enthusiastic about
a new public school, and Mom came up with a great idea. Since she would
be working out of the front office while we lived in the back, she
suggested she home school me and I could watch her office as the
secretary. In those days, mobile phones were fairly new, and not as
ubiquitous as today. The only necessary thing she insisted on was that I
learn to modulate my voice so I sounded feminine on the phone. I was
skeptical that could work, but Mom got me a miniature tape recorder and I
started practicing. It really was easier than it sounded at first: all
it took was practice, practice, and more practice, and pretty soon I had
an acceptable 'feminine' voice. I started answering the phone as Gwen.
For school, first I took a bunch of tests, and tested out at college
freshman level. Then I got all sorts of materials that I could finish at
my own pace. Mom made her first fairly big sale about this time, so I
ended up taking classes in her office and answering her phone,
essentially taking messages.
School went well. I had to pass progress tests with the state, and we
had to prove I actually had a curriculum which followed the state
guidelines, but that was no particular problem. Tests had always been
easy for me, and we bought a pre-packaged curriculum. Mom always closed
the office when she left, so my only function was the phone. We went
along like this for a while, more and more of my time during the day
being devoted to the office, and significant progress being made at
school and me dressing much like I had in the preceding summers,
feminine. I loved it, and my life. Just being relieved from the
bullying was quite a positive step. I really looked forward to dressing
up.
The Agency started going great guns. Mom was great at sales but the
administrative work was limiting what she could do. One Saturday she
explained it to me. "Things are getting to the point I should have a
full time 40 hour a week secretary." She looked at me and smiled. "I
have someone in mind."
Now at this time, I was wearing toenail polish and panties and dressing
more or less like a high school tomboy might dress.
She smiled. "A sissy, I have in mind a sissy."
I was shocked. "No, Mom, I can't."
"Sure you can. All we have to do is upgrade your wardrobe, work on you
walking in high heels, get you some fake tits, and you can be the
secretary. After a month or so, I will be able to leave the office open
and you can run it just like a girl Friday. You're smart, you have
experience in the business since you've answered the phones from day one,
and I'd love you doing it. I can trust you not to rip me off, to be
diligent and to take care of things. It's perfect, not to mention the
fun you and I will have seeing you all dressed up all the time. You can
go to get your hair done, your nails done, go all the way. None of this
mentions the fun you will have, flirting with salesmen who come in, and
customers, being the perfect secretary." She looked smug.
"Mom, I can't get fake tits."
"Sure you can, women do it all the time. We'll get you a pair just my
size (she hefted her C cup breasts) and your wardrobe and presto, the
ultimate efficient sissy secretary."
"What if I don't like it?"
"What plastic surgeons make, plastic surgeons can unmake. But that's not
going to be a problem. You're going to love them, you're going to love
your new wardrobe and you're going to love your new shoes, and you're
going to love going to get your hair and nails done." She never quit
smiling.
I looked at her and decided she was serious. I didn't know what to do.
"Come on sissy, do it for your Mom. It'll be fun."
"Mom, fake tits? That's an operation."
"So? It will seal the deal. We can dress you real sexy then." Her grin
turned a little evil. "You'll have more fun teasing the boys. Come on,
just do it, remember Mother knows best."
Mom, as is her way, kept after me. The Agency kept growing. One day,
just before my 18th birthday, Mom sat down with me and explained she
positively needed a full time secretary and receptionist because the
agency and she couldn't put it off anymore waiting for me to come on
board.
I must have looked stubborn, I still wasn't sure about an operation. She
looked at me and said that I ought not to let a little operation block
this opportunity. I was indignant. "Mom, I'm your son!"
She regarded me seriously, "To be correct, you are my offspring. When
you acted like and were treated like my son all the time, you were
unhappy most of the time. From the very moment you started polishing my
toenails, we've both been happier and more successful. In fact, since
you been more flexible, gender-wise, you've been happy most of the time.
I love seeing you happy and having fun and I think you'll have more fun
and be happier the prettier you are. Tits will help your clothes fit
better. I can't see why you wouldn't do it, honestly, it isn't too big a
change from now."
I hesitated while I thought, and that was the end of my argument. Mom
was a great sales person, she knows how to close a deal, "You'd look so
cute with your new wardrobe and tits you'd be very valuable to the agency
it would be worth our while to get you a company car, say a nice cute,
red mustang convertible, to advertise our brand. Of course you'd have to
dress really sexy but I know you could pull it off."
I was stunned. She was offering me a car to get my tits done? She could
see the wheels turning. I actually thought about it. They were, as she
said, only tits, how much further than polishing my toenails was that?
Looking back, she was right about us both becoming better adjusted since
we'd started. Maybe, all along in life, I just needed to be a girl, a
girly girl. I felt an erection rising and I was done. Mom got me a
doctor's appointment and I answered all the questions to his satisfaction
and Mom and I decided on some B cup implants, which went, if I do say so
myself, rather well with my delicate build.
After the pain of the operation wore off, Mom paid for a complete day at
the spa, manicure, pedicure, skin care, makeup, better haircut,
highlights in my hair, the works. I came out of there with a standing
once a week appointment for maintenance and renewal. I never felt better
in my life and I looked pretty cute. The asshole salesman at the Ford
dealership hit on me constantly in between selling the car to Mom, but
she just plowed on, acting oblivious to his attentions. The car was cute
with a great stereo and leather seats. It was fire engine red with the
big engine. I loved that car and I looked great in it.
Charlize
- 21.07.2021
- 10
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