New Werewoman Handbook Pt. 14

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Heather sat on her stool still deep in thought. The quiet hours at the club were therapeutic for her. Everyone on the full-time staff knew about her condition, so there was no need to hide it here in her sanctuary. She had a couple of weremen on staff, like the large framed front door bouncer, Eric. He went by Erica during the day, but liked to hulk up most if not every night. She didn't have any werewomen on the staff, better to make pack sisters out of them than employees.

The New Werewoman Handbook
Part 14

by Werewomaniac

Copyright © 2009 Werewomaniac

 
(Quick aside to the readers)
Some of you might be wondering what happened to the chapter between 12 and 14? It's a valid question, so here's an answer. The author is a very superstitious basket-case, and avoids that particular number like the plague. So I made chapter 14 extra long to compensate. I'm sorry if this decision offends any fans of that cursed number. Now, onto the story...

 
 
(The sounds of Shania Twain's voice reverberated off the walls of Jenny's steamy bathroom.)

As she showered to prepare for her evening out, Jenny thought about what had led her to this point in her life. She'd been through myriad phases with her dressing. It had been quite a journey from innocent child's play, to arousal driven dressing for sexual gratification as a teen. These developments were followed by the, 'I'm not a real cross-dresser' stage, when 'Jerry' actually thought he could beat the urge to dress. Silly boy! Luckily the denial stage didn't last long, but when the dressing began again, this time it was with a heavy fetish component In this phase, Jenny wore a lot of fantasy costumes including a slutty French maid outfit, a Harem girl get-up and lingerie that most modern women didn't even know how to operate. All of these various phases led Jenny to the place she was in now. Nowadays, she dressed for comfort and to acknowledge a side of her personality that lacked any other means of expression. Passing as female was always important to Jenny, but tonight it took on new significance.

Jenny had been out with gurlfriends in the past, but always out of town. It was never a problem as her group was unlikely to cross paths with anyone 'Jerry' knew. But Jenny's outings close to home were always a solo affair. It's a well known fact amongst cross-dressing men that the risk of being read and identified increases ten-fold with every gurl in the group. Four men together trying to pass as women are 1,000 times more likely to draw attention than one cross-dresser by herself. It's because every gurl has her own unique give-aways, and with more gurls in the herd there were more give-aways for passers by to queue in on. Some gurls were tall, others had man muscles too large to conceal, a few had no sense of fashion and dressed like they were trapped forever in the fetish phase. And if one member of your group gets read, so does everybody else. Tonight Jenny was meeting up with 4 or 5 fellow cross-dressers at a T-club so close to home, and she knew for a fact she'd be in close proximity to people 'Jerry' saw frequently.

Alone, Jenny blended in quite well with the world around her. Possessing a short and lean stature was a plus for any male with strong trans-gender leanings. A touch of gynomastia had even graced Jenny with a set of small but feminine looking breasts. As a teen, this condition both tortured and delighted her male alter ego. It enhanced 'his' private dressing sessions, but made gym class a waking nightmare. With age and growing experience living the trans-gender lifestyle, Jenny came to appreciate her chest bumps. They still enhanced dressing up, and the gym class ribbing's of yesteryear were like last summers tan; a fading memory. Even the Adam's apple, bane of t-girls everywhere, was not especially concerning to Jenny. She hardly showed any trace of having one. If her group was read tonight, Jenny was confident that it would not be her fault.
 

*          *          *

 
(Back to Erin, parking her car in Emily's parking lot.)

Mother moon smiled down upon me as I strolled into Emily's building, I looked back and smiled in return for all her favors. In a moment I was outside Emily's opening door, greeting my friend with a hug.

“Welcome back Erin, how was your change tonight?” Emily asked as our hug drew to a close. She welcomed me inside as I tried to find an answer.

“It was... you know... just like the other times, I guess.” I found myself lying. Of course it'd been far better tonight than last month. But I wasn't quite ready to admit that to anybody else, even Emily.

“You'll get used to it dear, it takes time. It's really good to see you again though.” Emily took my hand and led me into her kitchen. “It's been a while since I had to endure a shift, but I remember I was always hungry afterwards. I made some some chow if you'd like to eat.” Her condo smelled like an Italian restaurant. On the table sat a freshly baked tray of lasagna, and it looked delicious.

“It looks and smells so wonderful.” I commented honestly. I had to try a slice, not only to be polite but also because I wanted to. “Maybe just a little bit. Before I left the house I ate some left-overs. That is, if you can call what I did eating. It more closely resembled a woman-on-food hate crime.”

Emily laughed at my bad joke. “I remember that feeling. Preparing easy to heat meals before a moon-set will help you recover from a change and the hunger it can bring. I used to make a pan of lasagna for each night I planned to shift. I'd pop it in the oven just before I succumbed to the change.” Her advice was sage-like. I was definitely going to use that approach. “And besides” Emily went on, “with our enhanced metabolism you'll never gain an ounce.”

As she finished her statement I thought about what she said. The manual indicated that werewomen tend to stay in great physical shape with little effort due to an unusually high metabolism. That benefit carried over into male life as well. The more I thought about it, the more it rang true. Aaron had a ponch and some love-handles two months ago. When he stripped before transforming this evening, his stomach was flat and the handles were flying at half mast. Over the course of the month in her dormant state, she recalled feeling stronger than normal. Nothing about his exercise regimen had changed. “OK then, perhaps I'll have more than one slice.” It was so good, I wanted to go Garfield on it, devouring the tray with my bare hands. But that was un-ladylike.

When I was finished gorging on the Italian food, Emily took me into her bathroom and began to work on my hair. “You are so lucky to have gotten such straight hair.” she said as she brushed and sprayed my hair with chemicals.

“I sort of like the natural wave in yours.” I said truthfully.

“That's being a woman for you, the grass is always greener on the neighbors lawn.” Emily smiled. “Years ago, I'd have settled for just looking slightly feminine, but now that I have this knockout body, all I can do is compare myself to other knock-outs.” she sounded nostalgic.

“Yeah but it beats being a man!” I blurted out before even thinking about what I was saying. My face began to redden with embarrassment, the words flying out of my mouth caught me off guard.

Emily's eyes widened for a second. “It sounds like someone is starting to see things my way.” she said continuing to work on making me beautiful.

'Perhaps I am' I thought struggling not to inhale the fog of hair chemicals that surrounded me.
 

*          *          *

 
(Meanwhile, at the night-club in the warehouse district)

“Are you alright, boss?” asked Sam, the handsome male bartender.

“Yeah, fine.” replied Heather in a non-committal tone. Everything was proceeding according to her plan, and Erin was spending a lot of time with Emily. Why that seemed to irritate Heather was the real problem. Was it possible that she had feelings for Erin? No, impossible. Spending time with Emily was actually playing right into Heathers hand, the best course of action would be to let it go. But still, if things got too far along it could throw a wrench into her gears. A find like Erin was one-in a million, chances are Heather wouldn't get another crack at pulling off her plan.

This problem was eating at Heather to the point that it affected her in male life. As Heath, the owner of a marginally successful night-club, he'd been too distracted to attend to business since discovering Aaron. All he could think about was the plan, and Erin's role in it. It was maddening to know that there was even a ghost of a chance Heather wouldn't get what she needed from her new sister. Still, Heather reasoned, if she pushed too hard at this point, the whole thing may well blow up in her face. Just like it did with Emily. Patience was indeed a virtue, one that Heather struggled to possess.

Heather cleared her mind.

It was still early by clubbing standards, and the DJ for the night was setting up in his booth. Heather sat on her stool still deep in thought. The quiet hours at the club were therapeutic for her. Everyone on the full-time staff knew about her condition, so there was no need to hide it here in her sanctuary. She had a couple of weremen on staff, like the large framed front door bouncer, Eric. He went by Erica during the day, but liked to hulk up most if not every night. She didn't have any werewomen on the staff, better to make pack sisters out of them than employees. Others like the bartender, Sam were un-afflicted, but trusted associates nevertheless. If all the years of living as a werewoman had taught Heather anything, it was to include a couple of 'normals' in her day to day operations. They added perspective, and proved themselves in other ways too.

Sam, for example, took over as manager on the nights of the full moon, and the other nights Heather forced herself to change. Old Joe the cook prepared meals to ease the hunger pains following each transformation. It may sound like a small contribution, but when changing from Erica to Eric each night before work, it took quite a pile of food to satiate the mammoth wereman. Both Sam and Joe were related to werepeople too.

Joe had passed his gene for werewomanhood onto his son, Jack. It was a recessive trait in the father, he didn't even know it was a part of him. But when it activated in his son while the lad was of high-school age, it shocked both of them. Neither knew what was happening to the boy, but luckily Heather found them both soon after and brought them here. She taught Joe's new daughter how to live a fulfilling life, albeit one with an unusual twist. Heather initiated her as the youngest member of their pack, Jill. Jack and Jill had gone off to start college at the end of this past summer. Joe continued to work at the club out of gratitude. Heather had helped his son when he himself was unable, and Old Joe wasn't the type who forgot such kindnesses.

Sam grew up with a step-brother from the same mother. They were close in age and tight as could be. They did everything together, participated in sports, made mischief, invented war-games and played with trucks. But then one night, when the boys were in about eighth grade and ninth grade, Sam's slightly older brother turned into his sister right in front of him. Unlike his own parentage, Sam's brother was fathered by a werewoman in male form. Instead of freaking out and screaming after his brothers metamorphosis, Sam comforted his new sister. Together they figured out the rules of his curse on a trial and error basis, though it wasn't an easy initiation to the sisterhood. But Sam was supportive, helping his step-brother keep his secret from everyone except their mother. Although a little more than a year younger, he acted like her protective guardian. Not that she needed one. His brother or sister depending on the night was Vance, AKA Vanessa.
 

*          *          *

 
(Back in Jerry's apartment)

Stepping out of the shower, Jenny dried quickly and stepped into her gaff. This garment would conceal her birth-defect, transforming an unsightly male bulge into a beautiful Venus mound. Next came the Veronica II hip and rear padding. It's life-like look and feel seemed to move with Jenny as she walked or shifted in her seat. It was perfect for the cooler, October weather. Hopefully, if there was dancing at the club, it would hold up to the bouncing. Next came Jenny's favorite item, her breast forms. They were a full c-cup, made from flesh-tone silicone construction that warmed against her skin. The realistically shaped mounds were topped by perfectly proportioned nipples. Using a spray-on medical adhesive, Jenny placed her breasts in the perfect location against her chest and began to count out the time until the glue dried. It didn't take long to tack up and provide a good hold. Of course, she'd still need the added support of a bra if she wanted to move around as much as she planned to. And so she skillfully hooked into the one she'd picked out, placing it at the proper position on her chest. The glued-on forms immediately felt less heavy as their weight was redistributed by the supportive silk. With her foundation garments secure and in place, Jenny was beginning to take shape.

Every preparation up until now was easy, child's play compared to the next step. Now came the really advanced stuff. Genuine girls grow up encouraged to play with make-up. They receive tubes of toy lipstick and water soluble blush as gifts as soon as they can walk and talk. When they reach the age at which cosmetics are no longer a play-thing, their mothers, aunts and girlfriends all have advice to offer on how to achieve the best look possible. Soon it becomes a matter of personal choice for each woman, but they built up to that by combining all the skills they picked up along the way. Jenny had none of these advantages growing up, and had to rely upon magazines and tips from cross-dressing web-sites. Make-up itself was a fairly recent addition to the repertoire. Jenny had only just gotten good at using it after a couple years experimenting with mixed results. But tonight she was out to paint a masterpiece.

Jenny pulled out every trick she'd learned while getting ready that evening. Spreading foundation across her freshly shaven face, she knew how much to use to cover her beard shadow without looking like Mimi from the Drew Carey show. Her lip-stick went on next, outlined with a lip lining pencil ringing the edges to reduce smearing. Eye liner was an old enemy. She'd poked herself in the eye with the brush more than once, and it hurt each time. This evening, Jenny was on her game and avoided injuring herself as she applied her 'war-paint.' The fake lashes struck some people as being old fashioned. But they simply added to the illusion Jenny was hoping to create. 'Getting her girl-on' was going well for Jenny, and it came easier than usual tonight.

Now she was ready for her wig. Jenny had chosen the light brown, almost dirty blond get-up that matched her eyebrows. It was an expensive, human-hair wig, but it looked so natural on her. Placing it at the proper angle on her head, she smiled as she felt the tickle on the back of her neck. Positioning it just right in the mirror, she fastened it to her head using the method she found while reading Trans-living magazine. Even if she got bumped around on the dance floor, her hair wouldn't slip off of her scalp. That happened to her once on her second outing, a big convention in Las Vegas. It wouldn't happen again tonight.

Jenny admired her handy-work in the mirror, well satisfied with the results of her efforts. It wasn't just the pink fog talking, tonight she looked good. It was just after 9pm now, time to get going and meet up with Nessa and the gurls. Before leaving sight of the mirror, Jenny took a moment to psyche herself up for the challenge ahead. “You're beautiful, you pass, and nobody is going to mistake your fine ass for a man.” Then, drawing in a deep breath, Jenny shut out the lights in her apartment before stepping into the world beyond her front door.

On the way to her car, Jenny looked up and saw the full moon hanging overhead, lighting up the star laden sky. She found herself staring at the celestial orb as she opened up her drivers-side door. 'Maybe it was true what 'they' said about the moon bringing out the wild side in people.' Jenny mused. Call it full-moon-madness, but she felt like howling at the sky mimicking a wild coyote, or a wolf.
 

*          *          *

 
(Back at Emily's condo)

As Emily worked on making my face and hair beautiful, I wondered how the final results would look. Seated in a folding chair, she had me turned away from the mirror. Emily didn't want me seeing the final product until she was finished. Heather had fixed me up in considerably less time last month. I didn't mind being Heather and Emily's full sized Barbie doll though. It was fun for me to be fawned over like this. Last month, I tried to shoot down the offer of make-up, but tonight I freely accepted Emily's help and even wanted the glamor girl look she seemed to be going for.

After an eternity of looking focused and silent, Emily spoke. “There.” she said, tweaking an errant strand of hair. “You look positively radiant.” Emily remarked, pointing me towards the mirror.

She was right. My lips appeared fuller, my cheeks rosy but not overly so. My hair was bobby-pinned and sprayed with all sorts of products designed to smell pleasing and hold my locks in place. And it appeared that these products worked. I looked like I had visited a professional salon. I suppose my expression in the mirror said it all. Elation was written all over my face, and once again I couldn't believe how different I looked. It was like experiencing two transformations in the same evening. One from a male to a female, and the second from one female into a more beautiful version of herself.

“I...ah...Thank you Emily.” I said at last.

“The pleasure is all mine, Erin.” said Emily. “It's nearly time to meet the others, we'd better get going.” she looked down at her wristwatch as she spoke.

In all the excitement, I'd forgotten about our mysterious outing.
 

*          *          *

 
(Back in the warehouse district, at Heather's nightclub...)

Heather reflected on the many people she had helped throughout her werelife. She could scarcely remember her existence before being swept up in the werewoman tornado. Her personality had changed so much since then, as to be almost unrecognizable. Back then, she would have never considered doing what she'd done to Aaron, but things were different now. Heather felt guilty for changing him before he was ready for it, but the process had to be sped up. Any werewoman or wereman could plainly see that his aura was pink, but only one as well trained as Heather could see that his was a very special shade of pink. The glow coming off of Aaron the other month when Heather seduced him practically shouted, 'day-walker' to anyone perceptive enough to notice. Heather just hoped forcing this on him wouldn't undo all the other good she had done.

See, Aaron wasn't ready to face his girl side yet. He was still in a deep denial about who he was and what he wanted. Sure, he would have emerged from it eventually, but Heather couldn't wait for that day to arrive on its own. She acted hastily, a breach of pack protocol. A lapse in judgment that could cost her the alpha role in her own pack. Heather had used one of her powers on Aaron that night, a power she recently discovered on her own. This particular power wasn't mentioned in the handbook, and Heather hadn't discussed it with anybody. Except Vanessa.

Heather discovered she had the ability to draw out the feminine energy in people by using her hypnotic, green eyes. It was especially effective when used on trans-gendered men. A pent up ball of denial like Aaron took only seconds to unwind under Heather's gaze. It was a power she abused to get him begging to be turned. Ultimately he would have wanted this gift of his own free will, though that didn't make what she'd done right. Perhaps someday she'd thank her maker, perhaps not after what she had planned for him. Heather needed a werewoman on the cusp of becoming a day-walker to make her scheme work. Now the only missing ingredients were time and good fortune.

In through the door walked her favorite co-conspirator, Vanessa. “Hey Sambo!” she greeted her brother first with a bright smile.

“Hey sis, are you here to cheer up Mopey McGee over there?” he pointed at Heather.

“Geez what am I, a miracle worker?” Vanessa chuckled at her own bad joke. “It's time to go, cutie-pie.” she cooed, looking in Heather's direction. Only Heather and Sam were lucky enough to see this less aggressive, somewhat sweet side of Vanessa. It only really came out when two or three of them were together unobserved, like now.

Heather smiled at her companion. “It's good to see you too, sweetness.” she said. The two women hugged and smiled meekly at one another.

“Well aren't we cute?” Vanessa said sarcastically. She had a habit of shifting gears in a conversation with little or no warning. “Now come-on, lets get our asses in gear or we'll be late.”

'It's a real shame, but that's more like the Vanessa everyone else sees.' Heather thought to herself as they left, waving farewell to a bored looking Sam.
 

*          *          *

 
End of Part 14
 
 
To Be Continued...
 

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Comments

Sephrena

I think I love you!

The story looks great the way you dolled it up. You have the magic touch, and my undying gratitude.

Don't you know?

It's bad luck to believe in superstitions. ;-)

KJT

"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way." College Girl - poetheather


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Karen, I can't help but ask:

Is that a scientifically proven observation? :P

Faraway

On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

So much more

Than your usual were-woman tale. Your characters have a depth to them that is very attractive. What is this plan of Heather's? She seems like a decent enough person but this plan hints at something that isn't pleasant or nice. Is someone's life or health at risk? Nice stuff!

hugs!

Grover

My guess

Is since it has to do with a werewoman on verge of becoming a daywalker this plan is an 'outing' for such beings done 'for the greater good'. We all know what paves the pathway to hell, though...

Faraway

On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Maybe....

...Heather plans on siphoning off that excess of feminine energy to make her transformation into Heather permanent?
The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!

The nature of Monkey is - Irrepressible!!!

Maybe...

Or maybe both. In fact, after reading the 'blows up in your face' line my SWAG was - well the 1st part is above - that Aaron and Erin communicate, figure out how they were already used and were to be used in near future, get pissed off royally and deliver that excess to Heather forcefully. All while preaching about how she was not to unleash that which was supposed to stay hidden.

Faraway

On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Faraway


On rights of free advertisement:
Big Closet Top Shelf

Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!

Part 15

Some of the questions from the comments here are answered in Part 15, which is going up in a few minutes.

But the new edition also asks a lot of new questions. It involves larger cast of characters, some old and a few new. So please keep on reading, and I promise at the finish line there will be very few loose ends.

Thanks for commenting, you guys rock.

Werewomaniac

New Werewoman Handbook Pt. 14

With all of these story threads going on, You're making each chapter a fun read.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine