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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Forced Feminization (Fdom, M, cd)
by Michele R.
Organization: Onramp Access, Inc. 512-322-9200
.........as the dazzling lights reflected in a hundred mirrors, I
spun him around.
"Natasha! Pleeeease! Not here!" he pleaded.
I had to laugh to myself. How many times had he confided exactly this
fantasy to me? This persistent obsession with forced, public
feminization. How often had we made passionate love after running through
some fantasy scenario at home?
Of course he wanted it! Often he admitted as much. There was just some
obsessive component of his masculinity that resisted. Some fear of the
deeply held fantasy actually becoming reality.
But here we were. In Helen's Beauty Shope. I had made arrangements in
advance for the whole thing; careful to avoid letting him catch on. Then,
on a "whim" this afternoon, I suggested we run into town. Without that
element of surprise, I knew the whole experience would be worthless. And
this was Definitely a surprise!
"Lemme just stop in here", I told him,"and pick up some hair conditioner."
It was a struggle to not smile and give the whole thing away. Now, he was
going to get the "deluxe treatment". First a manicure, then false
fingernails, cemented, shaped and painted; permanent false eyelashes, and
a quick wash and blow dry. But until "Tami's" legs were shaved properly, I
saw no point in a pedicure.
The one thing that might be a real problem was if he panicked and ran off
screaming into the street. But I wasn't really worried. After all this
time, it wasn't just my hair that had been conditioned.
Right on cue Helen jumped in.
"We've been expecting you, Tami. Natasha told us just what you wanted.
I'm sure we'll have exactly what you like."
Helen's a doll. I've known her forever. When we were in school, how we
would fight! Constantly, over the stupidest things. I remember back when
she opened her first shop. That was back in the days when I actually sold
insurance. Now, I sit in front of a PC all day and run premium forecasts.
A crystal ball, by any other name. And they pay me for it.
Tami has helped me, I must admit it. He's had a lot of experience with
these things. Without Tami, I've no doubt my career would not have moved
as well as it has.
But for a while now, I've been naughty. These last three, four
months, I've been holding out on him. I know he wants to quit. Stay home.
Work on his writing. But one of us has to be secure, financially, with a
solid career. And there's no reason, nowadays, why that can't be me. I was
made VP three weeks ago, but told him nothing. It's what I've been working
towards for so long; what he's been helping me with too. The job was a
sort of informal goal for the two of us. I waited until everything was
finalized. Although I knew three weeks ago that I was going to get a title
and a raise, I wanted to make sure that the job I wanted was really
attached.
This week, everything finally came together. Oh! It's not perfect, of
course. nothing ever is. For instance, I was hoping for a MALE secretary.
Maybe 19 years old. Tight blue jeans. Ah- hem! never mind.
So, I'm in my friend Helen's Beauty Shop with my live-in boyfriend. We're
trying to get him to sit in the chair.
Should I play this? My problem has always been one of over analyzing these
situations. "Why won't he cooperate?" Does he really NOT like it? Or does
he like it and only want me to interact to complete the scenario? Or does
he only like it in the context of being forced to do it? Does being forced
provide a symbolic release of responsibility thereby allowing him indulge
in a fantasy which would be otherwise socially unacceptable? Is it bitch
goddess time?
I check my watch. Way too early, at least for us. It's never bitch
goddess time till 8:30 or 9. Definitely after dinner. It's only 3 PM.
What the hell, I'm paying for this.
"GET IN THE DAMM CHAIR ALREADY!" I shout.
Standing behind him, I spin him around. Did you ever notice how may lights
there are in beauty parlors? They dazzle him as he spins around, loses his
balance and plops unceremoniously in the chair.
Helen surveys the client/victim.
"Now Natasha, besides the HighLites (local trade jargon for false nails
and eyelashes) did you want the hair lightened or just wash 'n' dry?"
I groan inwardly. Besides my squirming, terrified, indecisive boyfriend,
I've got an old school chum who's trying to nickel and dime me to death.
Twenty bucks here and thirty bucks there and before you know it, your
talking real dough. And how long am I gonna keep him dolled up, anyway? I
mean if I'm gonna keep working full time (and I am) then one of us is
going to have to go out, for example, to do things like buy food.
The set up is interesting. He's in the last chair in the shop. Set, in
the back, in a sort of alcove. I believe they use it for uncooperative
kids. For what ever reason, it's the only chair in the beauty parlor with
a seat belt.
The bindings fit snugly around his waist and end behind him; out of easy
reach. Helen hands me two short 3 inch wide band. I smile. This is
exciting after all. I resist the urge to turn around and look at the other
people in the shop.
Helen was right, it's the slowest time of the day. Only one other
customer is getting worked on and another, way up front, on the way out. "
Natasha", Tami smiles as though he can still make a deal, "we can't do
this. I mean really. Come on, now."
I've always loved his smile. He can be a real charmer.
I smile back. "Oh yes we can, Tami dearest!", I purr.
And since time is money, Helen grabs his right wrist and binds it the
armrest with the velcro band. He's REALLY startled by that. This is
pushing his limit, I'm sure. But I'm ready and grab his other wrist,
binding it likewise.
We've done it! He squirms and pulls. But Helen is prepared for that too!
She flips a switch and the chair suddenly tilts way back. His head is now
level with or just below his feet. She spins the chair till he's
positioned over the sink.
"Now hold still dear so I don't get any soap in your eyes" she says as she
turns on the water. She uses a ton of soap and in no time at all whips up
a foamy lather.
I sit down and compose myself. This is something that we've both wanted to
try for a long time. Still, having it suddenly translated into reality is
exciting. I figure I'm committed to it for at least the next few weeks.
How long after that, I wonder.
Will we get married now? Can he cook, clean, keep house all day Is this
the kind of man I wanted? Will he publish another article? a book? work
part time as a consultant? It's early May now, how are we going to resolve
these things in '89?
You ever notice the magazines they have in beauty parlors? I mean, did
Michael Jackson really marry himself? Is Elvis still dead? If a 12 year
old girl marries 92 year old man and has twins, who cares! But how many
deductions would the IRS allow for such a couple? Can either of them open
an IRA account? And if I was a space alien, would I really wantto travel
a million light years to talk with a fat lady in curlers?
I look over at Helen. He's seated up now and she's drying his hair. She
didn't get nearly enough water on his shirt! I told her to make sure his
shirt was wet after the wash! I want to have a seemingly plausible reason
for making him change. Not that one will be needed .
"Can we start on this now?", I ask her, indicating his hands.
I don't want this to be an all day project. Her manicurist is just
finishing with another customer. "Gina will be right over", she assures
me. I smile mischievously at Tami.
I innocently bring up the matter of work and my new position. He's really
surprised. More by this news than his treatment. At least now he
understands what prompted me to make this daring public move.
I'm sure he always suspected that if I ever really did "make" him wear
painted, false fingernails, it would be at Helen's place.
Of course, I also suspected that he never figured on false eyelashes as
well.
He hadn't!
I smiled inwardly at my own sneaky cleverness. The eyelashes were a nice
touch, if I say so myself. Yes, some make-up and a change of clothes and
he could probably "pass" fairly well. I'm surprised by the feelings I'm
experiencing and also feeling pleased with myself for planning the whole
thing so well. I smile to myself.
Helen is adding the frost to Tami's brown hair when Gina, the manicurist,
came over.
"Give the young lady any trouble, Tami, and I'll have your ears pierced
before we leave!" I threatened.
This was also a fantasy that we had discussed in the past. I knew that,
by this point, he could no longer tell what I would and wouldn't do. The
suddenness of it all, the details like false eyelashes, my promotion, all
combined to throw him off base. And that, most of all, was exactly what I
wanted.
As Gina works methodically applying the sculptured nails Helen pulls me to
side.
"Natasha, this is turning out so well, I'm going to make you an offer you
can't refuse!"
Here comes the sales pitch again I think to myself.
"It's slow today, so I'm going to throw in a body wax After all little
girls can't have all that nasty hair".
I'm in shock! Helen must be enjoying herself. I've known her for years,
but this is the first time I can ever remember Helen "giving" away
anything.
She wants to tell Tami about her good fortune, but I quickly put a stop
to that. After all there are certain things which a Mistress absolutely
must do personally. I inform Tami how lucky he is.
The reaction is perfect. An instant of sheer panic, followed by the
realization that he really has no choice.
"Aren't you going to thank Helen?" I ask.
"Thank you Helen" comes the response.
The delivery was perfect; like a small child just caught with his hand in
the cookie jar who knows there is no way to avoid being punished. The
demi-lashes add to the emotion in Tami's eyes. I know Tami has resigned
"herself" to whatever I propose.
My own head spins as I fully grasp how much control I now have over my
loved one.
As the wax strips are removed I see Tami wince with each pull. As all
signs of hair disappear a metamorphosis takes place and like a butterfly
being transformed I see Tami in a new, wonderful way.
Helen snaps me back as she remarks "She looks simply marvelous, Natasha."
I smile.