The only true beauty is inner beauty, but Michael is about to discover that while untrue beauty can take time, there can be some interesting events to provide distraction.

It's Your Duty To Be Beautiful

Michael had expected the showers to be some big communal changing room, where everyone would mingle, but for this one, there were three large changing cubicles with smaller shower cubicles inside. Randomly selecting the middle cubicle, he entered, and dropped the bag on the counter. Reluctantly, but feeling he had no choice, Michael opened the bag, and pulled out the contents.

They were a lot more restrained than he was expecting - washing stuff, flat ballet style shoes, a pair of knickers and a sun dress. The knickers were frilly and matched the sun-dress, but that was about it.

Shrugging, Michael grabbed the shower stuff, and started his ablutions. Halfway through, the door to one of the other cubicles slammed, and he heard a voice, "Michelle, is that you in there?" It was Reba. "Yes," he replied.

"Great. As soon as we have both showered, I'll take you next door." Michael heard her enter the shower and start singing. She had a surprisingly low and powerful singing voice that echoed off the tile walls. It took a while for Michael to figure out what she was singing, and when he did, he found it to be astonishingly dirty[1].

After drying off, and blow drying his hair, Michael quickly dressed. As this was his fourth change of the day, and it was a pretty simple and normal costume, he had almost no compunction in wearing it. It was beginning to feel normal and usual.

Michael was beginning to get the feel of what was being done to him, and so he was not surprised to find that the shop was a beauticians. As they entered the shop, Michael was relieved to see that while several people turned to look, they all turned back, uninterested. The woman behind the reception desk had a hair style that was obviously designed to show off the skills of the salon. The left side of her hair was a bright white and set in elaborate ringlets and curlicues. The right was electric blue, dead straight and cut with precision. She did not appear to be wearing any makeup other than a pale lipstick, but given how perfect her skin was, Michael was sure that it was as complicated as her hair.

"Hiya Reba," she said, "I suppose this is the new girl? If you'll take a seat, I'll let Miriam know that your here." Picking up a phone, she spoke into it, "Miriam, your next appointment, Michelle, is here." After a short pause, she continued, "Sure, I'll let them know," and hung up. "Miriam says that she'll be through in a couple of minutes. Reba, it's going to before Michelle completes her appointment, so there's not really a lot of reason for you to wait. We have your mobile number, so we'll give you a call shortly before she's finished."

Reluctantly, after a long look at Michael, that he could not decipher, Reba agreed and left. "While you wait for wait for Miriam, would you like something to drink?" asked the receptionist.

"Thank you, could I have a coffee?"

"No problem." The receptionist came back with a small tray on which was a cafetiere, a china cup, and some chocolates. Michael was amused to see that there was also a copy of Sissy! Magazine. He sipped his coffee while paying more attention to its contents this time. If, as it appeared, he was going to be forced to be a sissy, he had better get more idea of what he was getting into.

As he read the magazine, he realised that it was more than just a gossipy, fluffy magazine. OK, it had articles on the best way to give a blow job, what to do if you buy exactly the same shoes or dress as your wife (it appeared that you two options, either look nowhere as good as her, or look so hot that she just wants to fuck your brains out) and the quiz on what kind of a sissy you were (whose results Michael still didn't believe). However, there were also articles on the rights of sissies (Michael was astonished that if you were a sissy, you didn't become a legal adult until 21, 3 years after everyone else), reports of violence against sissies, and attempts to get the police to do something about it, and amazingly detailed advice on how to invest and deal with money.

He had just finished reading an article entitled "My first Time", all about how sissies had discovered themselves, when he heard his new name being called. "Michelle, Miriam is ready for you now. If you can come through, we can get started."

The treatment room was at the back of the salon. and was rather cramped. The walls were covered in shelves full of mysterious, and possibly scary equipment. In the middle was a padded table that Michael knew he was shortly going to be lying on. There were four women in the room, or possibly three women and a sissy, Michael wasn't really sure.

"Hi Michelle," said one of the women, "I'm Miriam, the owner of this place. Let me introduce you to the team who will be working on you. Karen is our facial specialist, Miranda does manicures and pedicures, while Sissy Isabella is our general gopher and sex-toy." Michael blinked at the last comment, but he was able to murmur polite hellos.

The women were dressed in white cotton smocks with the name of the salon embroidered on their left breast. Isabella was dressed in something vaguely similar, except that it was made from white latex, with red details on the pockets and seams. In addition, she wore long latex gloves that came up to the cuffs of her sleeves, and latex stocking. Finally, this was topped by a tight, white, latex helmet that left only her eyes and lips visible. Her hair appeared to come out of the back of the helmet, in a high pony tail, but it was so wrapped in white latex that Michael couldn't really be sure that it was hair.

"Shall we get started?" asked Miriam. "If you'll just pop off your dress, and anything you've got on underneath, and lie face down on the table, we can start your treatment." Michael froze at the suggestion that he remove his panties, and prepared to complain. Miriam continued, "There's no need to worry, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Just relax and enjoy the experience. Just relax."

Michaels first thought was that if anyone ever tells you not to worry, that's exactly the point at which you should panic. His second though was "_She's right. There's no need to worry. It's going to be OK. If I relax, it should be a very enjoyable experience." With a rustle, Isabella hurried to behind Michael. and undid the zip of his dress. He felt her latex enveloped hands on his back, as his pushed the sun-dress off his shoulders, and it dropped to the floor. "Very nice," said Isabella, and kissed him gently on the nap of his neck. He the felt Isabella's hands inside his panties as she pushed them down. As she stood up, she ran her hands from his ankles, up his legs, over his buttocks and up to his shoulder blades. He felt his penis responding to this, but it was nothing to worry about.

With care, Isabella helped him face down onto the table, with his face in a conveniently positioned hole. Michael had no idea what they were doing to him, but it appeared to involve washing him, applying various unguents and waiting and them washing off him again, and turning him over several times. A couple of times, this involved latex clad hands doing things to his balls and penis, and this left him with a solid erection. A voice said, "Please miss, may I? It'll help him relax." and Miriam replied, "I suppose so, if you must."

Michael felt a mouth engulf him penis. He groaned in response, and Miriam said, "Relax Michelle. Just lie back and enjoy it." Whoever the mouth belonged to was obviously had a lot of experience, and they were using all of that experience on his penis. After a while, the mouth was joined by latex covered hands, and Michael came with a squeal. "Thank you, miss," came the voice that he now assumed to be Isabella.

A blanket was pulled up over Michael, and Miriam said, "OK Michelle, we'll now leave you for about half an hour or so, so just rest and relax." As the room darkened, Michael drifted off into a light doze.

After an unknown time, the door opened, and Miriam stuck her head in and asked, "are your awake, Michelle?" "Just about," replied Michael, and Miriam switched the light on, and entered, followed by Isabella. This time, when they washed Michael down, the water was cold and quickly woke him up.

"Are you ready to see what we've done for you, Michelle?" asked Miriam. "Remember, calm and relaxed, calm and relaxed." With this she revealed the mirror. At first, Michael could not see what they had done, and then with a gasp, he could. All his body hair had been removed, down to the hairs on his testicles, and he had a gentle, all over tan. At a second glance, he realised that the tan wasn't all over, he had two white patches, exactly where a woman would have worn a strapless bikini. When Michael started feeling his body, as if to check that it was still his, he discovered the third change, his skin. It was so smooth and satiny

"Isabella, you have outdone yourself," said Miriam, "you can even see the rings holding the bikini together." Michael wanted to shout and freak out, but instead he was calm and relaxed.

"Thank you, Miss Miriam," said Isabella, who came up behind Michael, and wrapped her arms around him. Running her latex covered fingers around the white circle on his chest, and then the two on his hips, in counterpoint to Michaels that were still exploring his skin, she said, "I think I was inspired today. Michelle here is so delicious." Michael could feel his body responding to Isabella's warmth behind him, and her teasing hands. As before, his penis attained a hardness that was rare. "I think he likes it, miss," she continued.

"So I see," replied Miriam. "The only problem with these artificial tans is they fade so. In a month, there'll be no trace, unless it's renewed."

On hearing this, Michael felt, relieved, disappointed, what? Did he like these brands of femininity? If the reflection had been a girl, Michael would have been in no doubt about its sexiness, but knowing it was him, ...

His cock looked out of place on the very feminine body. The lack of hair on his balls appeared to cause them to disappear and emphasised the size of his cock. This in turn emphasised the femininity of the reflection.

The reflection of his cock disappeared into the reflection of a pair of latex hands that he could feel playing with his cock. For the third time that day, Michael exploded into orgasm, spraying his semen all over his mirror self. Isabella continued until she had completely milked him dry, and he collapsed back against her, relying on her arms to keep him upright.

When Michael was able to stand again, Miriam told Isabella to clean up the mess she had made. She knelt before Michael, and gently licked his cock clean. Michael was so shattered by what had just happened that it barely twitched. When she decided it was suitably clean, Isabella turned round and licked his semen off of the floor and mirror.

As Michael watched Isabella lick the mirror with relish, he heard the door open, and a voice said, "Miriam, have you finished with Michelle yet? Tracey has just got her stuff all set up, and you know how snarly she gets if you keep her waiting."

"Well," said Miriam dryly, "I think we've done just about all we can do here. Michelle? Michelle?" Miriam prodded Michael to get his attention. "Tracey is ready for you now. I think you should get dressed and go out to her."

Michael relaxed a bit when he found that Tracey's workstation was in full, public view. He figured that they wouldn't dare do anything too extreme in public, though the chairs resemblance to a dentist's chair did worry him a bit.

"This is an amazing device," said Tracey. "It's the only one in the city. It coats a fortune, but given the way sissies keep wanting to change their hair, it soon paid for itself." Tracery made Michael sit in the chair, after removing his shoes. It had a raised foot rest, and the arms were soft and comfortable. "First, we lower the hood down, so it covers your head, and then we start the machine off." Tracey sat down at what appeared to be the controls of the device, and became engrossed them. As she worked, Michael felt something playing with his hair, as if a hand was brushing through it, and pulling, and feeling it out. Tracey looked up, "There, that's it started. It will feel a bit odd as it works, but the results are well worth it. While you're waiting for it to complete, Miranda will be giving you a manicure and pedicure."

Miranda and Isabella appeared on either side of Michael, and moved to the foot of the chair, where they sat on small stools, and removed his shoes. "We start with a simple pedicure, and then we give you a full manicure." They both started playing with his feet, doing yet more stuff that Michael had no clue about. Isabella seemed to be putting more effort into her playing, gently teasing his foot and causing his erection to slowly return. "Isabella, stop that. The poor girl has already had two of your specials, and I doubt that she would survive a third." Isabella pouted, but toned down her massage. Michael contemplated a third of Isabella's specials. He wasn't sure that she would be able to manage it. He was developing an erection, but it was the sort he called a lazy erection, the sort that would show up, but just hang around, doing nothing of any significance. Not being totally stupefied by the day's events, Michael opted to remain silent, in case Isabella would take it as a challenge.

Under the influence of the gentle massages, the odd feeling from the hair machine, and the come down from his last orgasm, Michael, on drifted away.

"Michelle, honey, it's time to wake up." Michael slowly opened his eyes, to look into the latex covered face of Isabella. She took advantage of this to quickly kiss him on the lips. "We're almost complete, just one final step, and we need you awake for this." Isabella helped him out of the chair, and led him to yet another workstation. This time, the workstation had lots of mirrors, and the shelves were covered in make-up. He couldn't see his hair in the mirror, as it had been wrapped in a cloth of some sorry. When he reached for the cloth, Isabella intercepted his hand saying, "Not yet honey, let's save it for the reveal." Michael did manage to see that the nails on his hands had been extended so that they arced over the ends of his fingers by what seemed a massive length. Surprisingly, they were coloured a gentle pink, not the bright red he would have expected.

"Yeah, I know it sucks," said Isabella, "but they insisted that it had to be something smart and discreet, not a proper red."

"Time for the final stage," said Miriam, "And as usual, you're not allowed to see what happen." The mirrors were folded closed, and Michael braced himself for yet another horrible surprise. As she worked on his face, Miriam muttered to herself, "good skin, could do with a decent regime to make the best of it, but not too bad." Michael had the feeling that this "regime" was going too be long and complicated, after all, everything else seemed to be.

Michael found the feel of the brushes on his face and the smell of the makeup to be exciting and his lazy erection swelled slightly in his panties.

Eventually, Miriam declared herself satisfied with the make-up and removed the wrap from Michaels head to play with his hair. "Tracery really is a master with that new fangled machine, you would never know that this is artificial."

"Finally," declared Miriam, "I think we are ready for the final unveiling. Are you ready, Michelle?" No, Michael was not ready, but by now, he knew that anything he felt was irrelevant, it was simply going to happen. He was made to stand up and a veil was draped over his head, so he could not see. Miriam guided him to the centre of the room, where the sounds indicated that he was being surrounded by mirrors and the staff of the salon. "Are you ready?" asked Miriam, and whisked away the veil.

Michael stood there, eyes closed in defence of reality, listening to the comments. "Beautiful," "amazing," "our best yet," came from all around him. Michael could have sworn that the muttered, envious, comment of "I want my hair like that," came from the receptionist.

It was hearing Isabella's slightly anguished cry of "She's got her eyes closed, she's not looking!" that forced Michael to open them.

Michael looked at the woman in the mirror. She wasn't Michael. He didn't know who she was. Maybe she was this Michelle that they kept talking about, but she wasn't Michael. If forced to describe her, Michael would say that she was in her mid-twenties, some sort of fast track executive professional. She had light blond hair set in some sort of wavy style that came down past her shoulders, and she wore a strappy sun-dress that showed off her perfect, light tan.

"What do you think?" asked Isabella, "I think we did an amazing job." Michael slowly turned in front of the mirrors, trying and failing to see any sign of Michael.

"It is amazing," he replied. "When I woke up this morning, I could not possibly have believed that this is what I would be seeing in the mirror."

Isabella squealed in delight. "I knew you'd love it."

"OK, girls," came Reba's voice from behind Michael, "this is the best I have ever seen you do, and I'm sure our little sissy would love to spend the rest of the day enraptured in her image, but we still have one final appointment, before the day is complete."

[1] The Ballad of Sissy Sarah, where the crew of a whaling ship came into Portsmouth after a year at sea, and Sissy Sarah was the only one who dared to deal with them.

Hiatus

There may be a slight hiatus after the next section, "Strut your stuff,", as I am running out of buffer. I have outlines for "Up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire", "Bearding the Lion" and "Teddy Bears Picnic II: This time it's chocolate" but I don't have the actual words.