P Fogg A MEMOIRPart 8
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The Flowering - A Memoir Of A Fateful Day free porn video
My "Flowering" - A Memoir of a Special Day
I am now twenty two years old and as is the custom, I am to write out a
memoir of what my "Flowering Day", a year ago, meant to me.
I will, of course, do so. So I have been told, so shall I do!
Since the Great Realignment, which happened back in 2047, for the past
37 years, each young Unworthy, within three weeks, before or after their
21st birthday, must submit to the "Flowering" Ceremony. So I have been
told, so shall I do!
All through my teenage years, my life has been building, as is expected
of a young Unworthy, to that sublime date with my needs and desires.
In our Matriarchal Society, the "Flowering" is the goal and ambition of
every young Unworthy. Our fathers have experienced it and know that it
is best for their Unworthy children to accept what has to be done,
serenely and joyfully. Our fathers do not usually speak directly of what
will take place, but their manner of living reflects what happened to
them on that day and every day since.
I remember the day of my 11th birthday. As I sat in front of my Little
Princess mirrored vanity, playing with the toy makeup set I received
that morning. Just as I was raising the waxy crayon faux lipstick (very
red) to my mouth, my father stopped me. He gave me a new baseball glove
and said let's go play catch, there will be time for THAT after your
"Flowering". I put my little Unworthy makeup kit away, even though I
didn't want to do so. Of course, later that day, I got it back out. What
Unworthy could resist?
There would be times when Mother or one of my sisters or both my sisters
would make me do certain things. I had to do them because they were
Worthy and I was Unworthy. That was just the way it was and is. For me
and for my father, too. Unworthys were told what to do, by any Worthy,
and they did it. So I have been told, so shall I do!
My family Worthys were kind and gentle with me. not that I deserved it,
being an Unworthy as I am. Every once in awhile Mother would hold a cute
dress to my Unworthy frame and say how lovely I would look in it. Or she
would make me sit next to her at her vanity as she did her makeup,
explaining what she was doing very simply so I could understand and
remember. Occasionally her mascara brush would wander to my lashes and I
was thrilled with the feel. Once even lipstick, the most precious of all
Worthy aids, was put on my lips (I was 9 years old). Oh, the sublime
femininity of it! But it was quickly washed off, leaving me wondering
and hoping and day dreaming. She did little things for me and to me.
which gave me an idea and yearning for what was to come. Like, out of
the blue, stopping at the Beauty Salon and having my ears pierced. I was
a 13 years old Unworthy with diamond studs in my ears. I will never
forget the smell of that Beauty Salon. It smelled Worthy! I knew I
wanted to come back to a Beauty Salon as often as I could.
My sisters liked to braid my hair. All young Unworthys had to have long
hair. Shoulder length or longer was the norm. They loved to gather my
hair into a high feminine ponytail and tie a pink ribbon on it. I loved
how it swung to and fro as I walked with my sisters. I loved it even
though I was 12 years old and a second baseman. Thank God I loved it
because I had no way to stop it. They were Worthy and I was not. As my
sisters desired, so I became Dorothy with a little Toto on Halloween,
then and anytime they liked for that kind of thing to happen to me. So I
have been told, so shall I do!
As I grew older, 15, 16, 17, I went on many dates with Worthys. I was
good looking and strong. And they liked and needed that. But I did what
I was told. One time my date told me to come to her home rather early.
She wanted to do some work on me. She wanted me to wear the exact same
makeup she was wearing that evening. She wanted to look at my face and
see herself, right down to the spectacularly shiny lip gloss she
favored. Her mother helped do my makeup just right. Good thing my
sisters had put my hair into a high swinging pony tail as I left to go
on this date. Luckily the long dangly ruby earrings my sisters made me
wear, absolutely set off the entire makeup look perfectly. All my date's
Worthy friends saw what she had done to me and vowed to do the same to
their Unworthy. The Unworthys who saw me said nothing. They knew that
they would have to experience the same treatment, in some manner,
sometime soon. So I have been told, so shall I do!
My life, as an under 21 Unworthy, was not bad. I was what I was. I
accepted what I was. I knew that the "Flowering" was coming. And no
matter what happened to me that day, good, bad, painful, blissful, I
knew that I had be one with it. Every Unworthy over 21 had gone through
the process and their lives were more defined and steady thereafter.
They were still Unworthy, but with a small piece of unimaginable
feminine magic instilled into their being. I was to do that process
tomorrow! So I have been told, so shall I do!
So the memoir of that day starts!
There were five Unworthys that session who had reached the age of 21
within that six week time frame. Our Mothers delivered us to the
"Flowering Hall" the night before. We were each assigned a private room
and told to get some rest, do not leave the room, get up at seven the
next morning, eat the breakfast which would be supplied. Then we were to
shower completely, wrap a towel around our bodies, girly style over our
insignificant chests, and a towel, fashioned into a turban over our wet
hair, then go out the door of our room at exactly 8:00am. We would be
met there and the "Flowering" procedure would begin!
At precisely 8:00am I opened my door, as did the four other 21 year old
Unworthys who were to experience the "Flowering" with me.
There, in front of the door stood the primary Worthys is our lives. In
my case, my mother and my two sisters were standing there. My mother was
holding a small leather bag, the kind you take on trips to hold your
toiletries. She had a big smile here face and told me how much she loved
seeing me with my hair in a turban and my towel wrapped girly style
across my breasts. Her words: Breasts. Similar tableaus were taking
place at the door of each of the Unworthys in my group. My sisters each
took hold of one of my arms and our procession walked slowly deeper into
the "Flowering Hall". I was hoping my towel over my breasts stayed put
as we walked.
We walked toward a door which had the words "Subjugation Tables". Mother
pushed the door open and we all saw that with in were five stations
containing a sink and a commode and a stainless steel table with a white
rubber sheet covering it, and what could only be described as a
gynecological exam chair. There was a small pile of towels at each
station and a thin doored clothes closet off to the side away from the
table, which could have doubled for an operating table or an autopsy
table. The room seemed cold, even though five groups of people had, by
now found their positions.
As soon as the door to the "Subjugation Tables" had shut, a Voice came
out of nowhere!
"Remove the towels from your Unworthy and lay the specimens on the
table, flat on their backs and secure the wrist and ankle restraints to
the highest notch possible. When the restraining is completed, you may
start the Subjugation process as you have been instructed. Do not allow
any specimen to cause any delay for any reason. This will be
accomplished as demanded by Herself. So I have been told, so it shall
be!"
Many hands came at me and I, and the other four, were now naked in front
of a multitude of Worthys. As my towels were taken away by my sister, my
mother and other sister took hold of my arms and legs and made me sit
and then lay on the cold, cold, steel table. Quickly, as I started
shivering with anxiety and true cold, my wrists and ankles were wrapped
in the restraints and I was basically immobilized flat on my back.
I could not move, nor could I see much, other than directly above me
where the ceiling was painted with the precisely made up eye which was
the avatar of Herself. The make up on the eye was dramatic and sexy and
that haunting eye was staring directly at me, mocking me as being an
Unworthy.
I heard water being run and then my sisters and my mother were standing
over me with cans of shaving cream and Lady Shick razors in their hands.
In less than a second my body was once again wet and my mother was
poised to spread shaving cream. Shaving cream I then realized was going
to go all over my cold body. The voice came once again: "There shall be
no hair left on that body other than that which will be styled in the
Beautification Process! The Unworthy will not be allowed continuation
into the Beautification Process if there is hair still on the body. Do
your job, Worthys!"
The voice stopped and at once I could feel shaving cream being spread
across my skin. Every where. And I mean Every where! The razors were
sharp and my hair was not that rough. The process was smooth and quick.
The longest time taken was when my sisters took on the delicate job of
shaving and shaping my groin and penis area. There was a lot of giggling
but the job was completed. At one time my right wrist was released so
that I could be semi turned to be sure the back was shaved. And once one
of my feet were released so that my anus could be reached and shaved.
When all five groups of Worthys had finished this step, the voice came
back: "Remove right side restraints, position specimen of its' left side
and commence with the internal cleansing process."
I was rolled onto my left side and one sister held me so that I did not
go all the way over. My mother and other sister worked together to bring
and install the nozzle and the tubing into my anus for a purgative enema
which I must under go before I could proceed to the next stages of "The
Flowering". My mother patted me on the ass and shoved a bulbous valved
nozzle, covered in vaseline, up and into my Sissy Hole. She pumped the
hand bellows which inflated the bulb in my Sissy Hole, blocking any back
flow from the enema fluids. When she was satisfied of a tight,
uncomfortable fit in my Sissy Hole, she pressed the button which
released 3 quarts of soapy warm medicinal smelling fluid into me. I
could feel the fluid pass thru the bulb and into my colon. I did not
think it would ever stop. Mother held my hand and comforted me but keep
on the flow steady as my stomach distended and I thought my eye balls
would leak. Eventually the incoming fluid stopped and I was laying there
with three quarts of toxicity roiling in my intestines. I moaned but
could not move. The Voice came back: "After 10 minutes release all
restraints and allow the specimen to sit up and then slowly stand up
next to the table. When they are standing, the creatures are to jump in
place for three minutes. Then and only then, can they be allowed to
expel their Unworthy contents into the commodes."
My mother did as she was told. So have I been told, so shall I do!
After ten, 8 minutes too long, I was released and sat and then stood.
Mother encouraged me to start jumping and held the tube and the bulb in
place as I flopped up and down with the liquid sloshing within me,
striving to get out. The pain was tremendous and humiliating. My sisters
were smirking at their Unworthy sibling as the cleansing of internal
unworthiness took it's toll. I thought I would explode when, at last,
mother said three minutes were up and she directed me to the commode and
released the valve which was inflating the bulb and quickly withdrew the
nozzle and the tubing and I expelled the three quarts of nastiness and
unworthiness into the commode with a mighty swoosh and a sigh of immense
relief. I heard four other sighs and moans all around me.
I stood there, naked on the outside and very clean on the inside. Mother
took my hand and led me to the gynecological exam chair. She tenderly
showed me how to position myself in the proper Worthy fashion, feet
tightly strapped onto the stirrups. She gave a soft pat on my thigh and
pressed a button which raised my legs high and lowered my back so that
my Sissy Hole was totally exposed. My sisters appeared, one holding a
tube of some kind of gel and other with a silver plate on which was a
box of "U" super security, with super absorbency. tampons by Kotex. She
took one tampon out of the box, removed the wrapper, and brought it
close to my face so I could see what Worthy torture I was about to
undergo. Mother took the tampon, put a little gel on its' tip (Thank
you, Mother) and lowered it into position just above my Sissy Hole. With
a smile on her face, she pushed the tampon into my Sissy Hole and when
it was about half way in, she pushed the plunger which drove the actual
tampon deep into my faux vagina, leaving just the cute little string
hanging out. I gasped and almost stopped breathing. I was now one of the
group who depend on tampons for control of vaginal problems.
The Voice returned. "Start the dressing process, stage 1!"
Mother quickly lowered my legs and released me from the stirrups. She
dusted me all over with a lavender dusting powder which smelled yummy
and then went to the clothes closet and withdrew a few items.
She handed the first item my sister, who swung it around on her finger
like a frisbee. It was a pale pink pantie with delicate lace cut outs at
the waist and on the legs openings. She came to me and had me put, first
one foot and then the other into the panties and pull them up to cover
my ass. While doing so she gave my tampon string a playful tug. I was
wearing panties and a tampon in front of my sister. Next my mother
handed a pair of ultra sheer champagne color pantyhose to the other
sister and I was told to sit and start the process of learning how to
put on pantyhose. I found it fascinating and so did my sisters. They
were control top pantyhose and the control was very tight. Anything I
had, which was not germane to the "Flowering" swiftly became non-
evident, nicely tucked away. Next mother came to me as I sitting and
reached for my foot and placed a black patent pump with a 4" heel on
each foot. She gave me her hands to steady myself and drew me up from
the seated position and I was standing in my heels for the first time.
My sister had me place my arms in a white satin dressing gown with
fluffy feathers around the collar and at the hem. I tried a few steps in
the heels and was laughed at by my sisters but steadied by my mother.
The same scenario was happening at the other four stations. Feet never
before in heels. now trying to walk!
The Voice came again: "Precede now to the Beauty Salon! If anyone breaks
a leg, they go back to pure Unworthy status immediately!"
All five groups started at once to move out of the Subjugation Area and
head towards the Beauty Salon. Five Unworthys toddering on towering
heels, wearing beautiful satin peignoirs for the first time in their
miserable lives. Beauty awaits them!
As previously, there were five stations set up in the Beauty Salon for
our five initiates. Each station contained a mani/pedi throne, a
styling/shampooing chair, a make up station and a huge, frightful,
stainless steel torpedo hair dryer which came down from the ceiling over
the quivering Unworthys. I, my mother and my sisters were shown to
Station 3. There were three beauticians to work on me. Mother and sister
had the privilege of watching their Unworthy be subjected to every
torture a Worthy goes through innumerable times through out their lives
so that they can look the way a Worthy should. I was allowed to sit in
the styling chair and have my long, flowing hair washed by
professionals. Then they started the process of giving me a Perm, with
all the smells and curling involved. I loved it. My mother loved seeing
me curled in a million perm rods, and after the perm process was
completed my hair was rolled again in curlers to create the chosen style
I was to have and I was placed in the Mani/Pedi throne and the
frightening dryer was lowered by my mother over my head and the heat hit
me full blast as my new curls were baked in. While the dryer was doing
it's thing, two nail technicians attacked my finger nails and toe nails.
Mother said it had been decided by her and my sisters that I would be
wearing Revlon #425 Softsilver Red lipstick as the final step in my
makeup application. So my nails were to be done in the same shade. First
my finger nails were extended with acrylic's to about a quarter inch
beyond the tip of my fingers. My nails were shaped in the Oval shape my
mother preferred. The sheer ecstasy of my curlers creating a Worthy
hairdo and my fingers and toes being painted Softsilver Red, just as
Worthys do every day, almost caused me to faint on the throne. Mother
brought me water to keep me steady and so I could drink now rather than
after my lips were coated with red paint too beautiful to smear by
drinking.
Finally the dryer had finished it work. I was reluctant to leave the
dryer. I had found a comfy home under it's terrifying hood. I was happy
there.
But after my nails had dried to a shiny lustre, we left the mani/pedi
throne and moved to the styling/makeup department. Mother and my sisters
had decided that I was to be a carbon copy of a 1960's Doris Day hair
style and makeup. My hair had been dyed a lovely burnished golden color
two months ago in preparation for this moment. The style was to be a
Page Boy falling to chin length, rolled under in the back, with long
bangs coming from the front of the crown falling to above the eyes and
at the cheeks turned out in pointed flips almost curling to the corners
of my soon to be painted mouth. This style would allow dramatic makeup
to be easily shown and flashy earrings to shine from my lobes.
My stylist removed the baked curlers and brushed out the strong curls
into a style which would make Doris Day weep with joy. I loved sitting
there watching my mother smile with pride and my sisters scowl with envy
at the beauty of their Unworthy. As the hair stylist did her magic, the
makeup artist moved in with paints and powders and brushes and tubes. I
love being pampered, and nothing is more pampering than having an expert
do your makeup, especially if you are an Unworthy. I was not to be in
any way flashy. Doris Day wasn't and neither would I be. My makeup was
to be precise and just a touch on the higher side of a beautiful Worthy
next-door. The one bit of makeup which went a little over board were the
lush and long false eyelashes which my sisters had demanded that I wear.
My eyes were smashing! Mother came to be beside me as the last finishing
makeup was applied. My lipstick! My lipstick! It was brushed on, in the
future I would use the tube, and it shown like three thousand candles.
And then the gloss was added. The light from my lips would reach to the
moon!
Our hair was done. Our makeup was done. The Voice came again: "Proceed
to Constraining Room for dressing process stage 2".
It was surprising how the application of makeup and the styling of your
hair makes it easier to walk in heels. All five of us and our entourages
passed swiftly, us on heels, to the Constraining Room. There five low
platforms were formed into a circle, one for each of us Unworthys.
I stood on platform 3. There were a few boxes at my feet, ready to be
opened. A door suddenly opened and five figures came through the door
and one each went to each platform. They were extremely beautiful
Worthys. Or so I thought. The one who came to my platform was dressed in
a dazzling ballgown, white chiffon full ruffled skirt over three
petticoats with a bodice of gold metallic lace squares, sleeveless with
long gold metallic, over the elbow, gloves. A beautiful, intricately
styled, up-do rose from a smiling face. The figure wore 5 inch LouBoutin
open toe strappy heels of gold filigree and was made-up to the nth
degree. I looked and then it hit me, this was my father, my Unworthy
father. Naturally I had seen my father "en fem" before but never so
professionally done up. This was not his month, but in my honor, on my
21st birthday, he out did anything I had ever seen before, even from
mother.
I was standing on the platform, as were the other four Unworthys, when,
as if choreographed, all the mothers took our satin peignoirs off and
left us just in panties and pantyhose and pumps.
Father picked up one of the boxes on the floor and opened it to reveal
an extremely strong looking, pink, high waisted panty girdle. He asked
me to step out of my heels and positioned the girdle for me to step into
it. It was very tight, hard to bring up, even over my calves. But it had
to be gotten on. Besides its' intrinsic constraining power, it also had
panels on the hips and on the derriere which gave me a more Worthy like
shape. At last the girdle was seated into its' rightful location. Father
gave me a playful swat on my girdled ass. It felt divine!
The next box contained an insidiously contrived under bust corset. It
looked so demurely feminine on the outside, all pink satin and delicate
roses on the hem and lower bodice line. But inside was steel, cold,
hard, uncompromising steel to control me like I had never been
controlled before. Mother place the torture device around my body, in
the proper location to achieve the most shaping benefit. When it was in
position to mother's liking and the sisters had all Ohhed and Ahhed over
the restrictive power it exuded. Father did the honor, and started to
lace me, his son into this medieval containment device. Each tug on the
laces made me gasp. My father was very strong and he used every ounce of
his strength to encase his son into this Worthy garment, meant to
reinforce and define the gorgeous Worthy shape. I could see my father
sweat under his divine makeup, he used all his strength to be sure his
son was properly laced and controlled. At last he stopped trying to
suffocate me and I was laced, as every Worthy is laced, to a 24 inch
waist. I knew I could never sit or bend again. So I have been told, so I
shall I do so!
With the corset tightly in place around my Unworthy body, mother brought
another box from the floor. She opened the box and held up, for all to
see, the epitome of all that defines Worthyness, a magnificent, lacy and
satiny underwired, very controlling uplift bra. This garment screamed
"Worthy"! I closed my eyes as she approached and asked that I put my
arms out straight. I felt the sheer loveliness slide up my arm and the
straps find purchase on my quivering shoulders. Mother asked me to bend
slightly at the waist and let what little breast tissue I had settle
into the cups, just as she did to herself every morning. I bent and the
cups seemed to jump to cling to my chest. Mother had moved behind me and
she grasped the two sides of the bra and pulled them together, causing
me to gasp once again. I felt her capable hands find the correct hook
and eye closures and felt the bra define me in a way I had never been
defined before. The definition was crisp and my boobs were firm and
pointy! My hands flew to caress them. The cups had been pre filled with
just the correct amount of silicone padding, molded over my own fleshy
base, so that I was now a very lovely 38C bosom with a corseted 24"
waist and a firmly girdled 36" hip. Mother had me step back into my 4'
pumps and I stood in them, proudly! I was trembling with excitement! So
I have been told, so I shall do so!
Now mother and sisters brought out the dress which they had chosen for
me for my "Flowering". Very carefully they carried it to a position in
front of me, as Istood on the platform in my undergarments, waiting to
be clothed in the raiment of Worthyness. My eyes locked on this darling
vision of Worthyness that was to be placed on me. It was stunning! They
had chosen for me to wear a beautiful sundress, sleeveless with the
bodice being white appliqu?d crisp eyelet cotton, buttoned up the back
from the neck down to the waist. At the collar was a row of soft white
puffs framing my neck. At the waist the dress flared in soft 3'
pleadings of white satin, covered with individual shiny black or gold 2
1/2" rounds of silk embroidery, coming down to just above my knees,
filled out with three white, starched, flouncy, crinoline petticoats. My
mother directed my feet into the dress and she and my sisters pulled it
into position over my accepting bosom. As my mother did up the 13
buttons on the back, the fabric clung to my new shape as a glove
tightens on a finger. The petticoats took up their position, making the
skirt stand out in a circle 5' across, caressing the tops of my quaking
knees. A gold lame loosely woven sash was tied around my 24" waist.
Mother attached gold earrings to my lobes which consisted of 5' strands
of gold chain ending in three gold balls off each ear which swung when I
walked. On one arm was placed a stunning slim gold Patek Philippe
feminine watch and on the other arm 14 clanging bangles of silver and
gold. Mother handed me a small, white, beaded clutch bag containing MY
lipstick and a compact and a tissue and a tampon for MY use. What more
could a new TransWorthy need?
I stood in awe of what had been done to me. My mother and father and
sisters stood in awe of what had been done to me. I had "Flowered!"
They loved it. I loved it.
So I have been told, so shall I do so!
__________________________________
Maybe the next memoir will tell of what more happened to me that evening
and night and the next two weeks and about the "Deflowering" I
underwent.
Also I could write about the decisions I would have to make very soon.
After two weeks of my "Flowering and Deflowering" I would have to decide
either to go back to being totally "Unworthy", with only a month a year
spent as a "Worthy", like my father did, or stay as I was at this
shinning moment and become a "TransWorthy" for all time!
Maybe!
Mckenna
- 27.04.2020
- 13
- 0
