Heather: A Model Spouse

Tonight was a special night for my wife and me. We were celebrating our thirteenth wedding anniversary. We were too young when we married; fresh out of high school and not ready for marriage. There was love there, we met in eighth grade, constant companions, but more importantly we got along as friends. We had a lot of the same interests; music, books and a drive to succeed in anything we did. We were grounded, already looking ahead to careers, jobs and a future.

Things were rough for a while; young people just are not used to sharing their lives with each other. Since we were both a little headstrong, our individual preferences came first, without consulting what our spouse wanted to do. When one of the partners in the marriage found out what the other had done, it was often touch and go. The fact that we were so young and not really knowing what we wanted did help keep the disagreements manageable. We had grand ideas, plans for the future, but they changed as often as the seasons. There were some testing times though, happening way too often for our liking.

Suzanne was now twenty-nine and just coming into her own in her chosen career. She had worked for a large modeling agency for almost eleven years. She started with them as a part-time model, now she was in charge of new talent and model development. She was the boss of the agency, selecting the brightest and most beautiful women to develop their talent further.

She rode herd on about a hundred women of all ages from teens to women in their forties, supervising their training and their placement in the fashion industry. Suzanne has a good eye for talent and looks, the two most important traits in the modeling field. Her success though is how she handles people, making them feel important in what they do. An extra few words of encouragement at times or a shoulder to cry on are things that make the models that work for her so dedicated. Suzanne and her assistant do care about their models, often talking with them outside of normal business hours as friends.

Throughout all of this, she maintained her own looks and still looked like a woman in her early twenties. She is still very aware of the effort needed in keeping her youthful appearance. She spends a couple of hours every day in maintaining her figure and face. Her vanity is loaded with creams, masks, and herbs to help maintain her complexion. Her hair is a strawberry blonde color that is cut in a wedge, and she has weekly salon appointments to keep it looking its best.

Her daily exercise regime, usually an hour before bed, was done to various aerobic videos. That time was also a favorite of mine, watching her work out a real turn-on for me. Since she knew the value of a trim and toned body, she was faithful in her workouts. It was usually done in our bedroom; my reserved seat is on the bed where I can watch all the action. Special occasions allowed her to skip a night occasionally, but those were few and far between. Overall, she was a very beautiful woman to whom I was so lucky to be married, definitely a keeper.

That brings things around to me. I was thirty years old and a self-taught computer programmer. I had always been fascinated with computers and since high school, I have redone programs and applications to make them do what I wanted. I was enrolled in an apprentice program right out of high school by a software company, and a year later I had written my first program for them. In the company we were given a programmer to coach us and teach us anything we didn’t have a grasp of.

I loved it and spent all my extra time honing my skills. The individual that I had a chance to work with was their lead programmer, and he loved to share his knowledge. We got along great and soon became close friends.

During that time, my wages finally caught up with my ability and I was able to bank a considerable nest egg in the next few years. That money allowed me to treat Suzanne to a decent honeymoon, that we never had originally, and for us to buy our dream home. However, my ability to stomach the corporate workplace was shrinking daily, and a couple of years later I quit the company.

At the time, Suzanne was livid for she thought that I had pissed away my future. A month later I had forty-eight customers that I am writing software for or adapting the software to their individual needs. This last year I made twice what I made when a corporate entity employed me. It was not all ideal though; the hours worked along with the traveling gets old fast, but at least I was taking in a good salary for the future.

Unfortunately, most of my work required traveling to the customer’s corporate headquarters to work on their programs and make necessary changes. Suzanne was not happy with this and it had been a source of contention between us from the start. At least four out of seven nights Suzanne was home to an empty house and a lot of discussions over the years have covered this subject. When I was away from home I tried to call her, to ease her being alone, but she told me many times it was not the same as me being there.

Over the years, I had tried to make adjustments and selected customers that require less travel, or are local. That helped some, but my biggest revenue was from fixing software problems in other than normal business hours and in places far from home. That’s just the nature of the business. Of my mix of customers about half were within an hour’s drive of my house. Those customers, however, tended to not require my presence as much as the quarter that are three to four hours away.

That quarter that were in need of my help the most often also produced more than sixty percent of my income and Suzanne reluctantly learned to live with it. I stress the word ‘reluctantly’, as it was only because she loved me that she puts up with the travel and being away - at least, that’s what she is telling me.

Many times she tried to get me to take other employment so I would be home more, but the money was just too good to pass up. At first, after we were able to get the house, I thought I was saving for our children’s future and their education, but both Suzanne and I decided that children were not to be a part of our lives at this time, maybe later. We were both from large families and just felt that we were not cut out to be parents, our careers were too important to us, and we both enjoyed what we did. At least, at the time of the decision that was our opinion. Since then I have changed a little, the job not having the same attraction as it once did.

I should temper that thought with the fact that what I did was enjoyable, but it was getting old, and I wanted to find something else to occupy my time. I had managed to bank quite a sum of money from my endeavors to date, and I doubt that my wife or I will want for anything in our future lives.

Suzanne was making a little over eighty thousand a year and got clothing, car, and all travel expenses. Yes, she traveled some about twice a month, but I still averaged three to four days out of town a week. What she made was probably why I was still working. I would feel foolish if I was not working and she was the breadwinner, even though I had earned a lot and put it in savings, it is not the same as providing for my family every day. Stupid I know, but the main reason for me to continue to work.

I called Suzanne on my cell phone as the jet was taxing up to the terminal. She is on her way home and said she would be there in about twenty minutes. I told her I had just landed, and I would be about forty minutes. I told her I had made reservations at the Biltmore for eight o’clock and would see her when I got home.

If she had known that I had to charter a private jet to be able to make it home for our anniversary, she would be unhappy. Of course, if I had not been able to get home she would have been very distraught. No, make that pissed to the wind, her idea of my work time and mine always varied greatly. The fact that she was able to keep to a normal nine to five schedule most days made my abnormal schedule that much harder to put up with and quite noticeable.

A month before, in my travels I had managed to find a Navajo Indian necklace and earrings, one that she has been looking at for years. At least, I hoped it was the one she had been looking for since my anniversary gift the previous year had been a little disappointing, to say the least. I found out you do not get the loving wife appliances for her anniversary, especially when the wife does not cook that much. I doubt I will ever live that one down.

I just realized that I had not introduced myself, a minor faux pas, as everybody calls me by my nickname, Heath. My mother is English, hence, the very un-masculine name of Heather was given me at birth. Thankfully the nickname of Heath stuck in life. Another clarification necessary here, Suzanne called me Heather whenever she was upset at me or when she wanted to give me a hard time, but most of the other people in my life use the Heath nickname.

Suzanne was applying makeup when I got home, and I quickly changed clothes. We both finished about the same time and made small talk for a while. I guess Suzie is waiting for me to say ‘let’s go’, but I am waiting for the other surprise I had planned. About that time, the limo pulled up and honked. I extended my arm to Suzie and said, “Let’s go.”

When I opened the front door, she was speechless as the driver opened the door on the limo for us. She looked up at me and smiled as we entered the limo. It took us about thirty minutes to reach the Biltmore, a very upscale resort between Phoenix and Scottsdale, but it is not every day that a limo makes an appearance there. The hotel and restaurant cater to the affluent, so BMWs, Porsches, and other luxury cars are an everyday occurrence, but not so much limousines. The valet held our door for us and extended a hand to my wife as she exited the limo.

We went inside and then through the lobby to the restaurant and were quickly seated in the same area as thirteen years ago. The first time we came here, it was all I could do to scrape the money together to treat my new bride to a wedding dinner. That wedding diner was two days after we returned from Vegas, where the actual ceremony took place. The dinner had to be postponed until after my next payday. We had no money for a honeymoon or even a diamond ring. We used a ring that belonged to one of her friends, actually a piece of costume jewelry. Her wedding dress was her Mother’s pinned to fit her. You might say that the marriage was a joint effort of interested parties.

The wedding was performed at a Las Vegas wedding chapel, at three AM, since we both had to go to work later in the day. We had got the morning off, so we could get married. I sweated the trip back, my gas gauge was on empty for the last hour, between us we had about twenty dollars, but I didn’t want to admit to her that I was such a poor prospect of a husband. Luckily we made it and I was spared the embarrassment of running out of gas on my wedding day.

Yes, I did replace that ring with a real diamond years later and since then I have added an engagement ring that matches it in splendor. I performed those task at previous anniversaries, getting me through those years without difficulty.

As Suzanne was seated, I could see a couple of tears in her eyes, the happy kind I hoped, and she was uncharacteristically quiet. I asked if everything is alright, and she said yes. “Everything is just perfect.”

I decided to take advantage of positive vibes and give her the necklace. I pulled the box out of my coat pocket and told her to close her eyes. As she closed her eyes, I placed the opened box in her hands and told her to open her eyes. She squinted a little in the dim light and then burst into tears.

I was worried for a minute until I saw her mouthing that it is beautiful over and over. She wanted me to fasten it around her neck and as I did so she replaced her earrings with the new ones. She felt the necklace and then leaned over to kiss me.

Crafted of sterling silver with turquoise stones set in miniature squash blossoms, the necklace and earrings were intricate, yet delicate in their design, but on her they were even more beautiful. It was a very passionate kiss, to say the least. I told her how much I loved her and thanked her for thirteen years of happily married life.

She managed to calm down after a while; we ordered dinner and it was exquisite. Quite often her hand would return to the necklace and earrings as she rubbed the pieces seeming to savor the feel and look. I am so glad that I spent the money to get her the set, the look in her eyes makes it all worthwhile.

If I had checked around, I might have found the squash Blossom set cheaper, but nine hundred dollars for the set seemed reasonable to me. It had two necklaces, one version long and one more of a choker style. A set of earrings and a bracelet completed the set. The workmanship on this set was much more professional than the other set I saw offered at a competing store. The set was found near the Indian reservation about twenty miles from one of my customers. The design and craftsmanship are typical of the tribe, sought after by many.

She apologized several times for not bringing my anniversary present but figured we would exchange presents at home. I had to reassure her that it was fine, but I wanted to make sure that she understood how much I loved her. We talked a little about our workday and about the last thirteen years taking extra time to reminisce about our past trials and tribulations. Even though, I was little uneasy about talking about some of our past fights and arguments we managed the polite conversation and even laughed a little about some of them.

One of our biggest difference of opinions was whenever Suzanne told me how much work it is to be a model and woman. Now I have never been one to hold back my opinion on things, even when all logical minds would refrain from speaking. In that past disagreement years ago, I had told Suzanne how utterly ridiculous that statement is. “All they do is primp for the camera and let the photographers, makeup artists, and hairdressers do all the work,” I sneered.

Of course, you can imagine how that sat with my wife. As I remember, the discussion at the time went on for several days with nothing being settled. Both of us stated our arguments and neither one of us budged on the matter. In fact, I don’t remember ever settling the argument. This night, as the matter was discussed she said, “I’m happy that you finally see things my way about the subject.”

Well after thirteen years of marriage you would think that I would be smart enough to agree and let things drop. Instead, I was quiet and said nothing. Well, Suzanne picked up on that right away and looked at me.

“You still believe it’s not hard work to be a model,” she stated. “I can’t believe you still feel that way, after all these years. Surely after seeing what I go through to stay beautiful, you can see the error in your thinking.”

Now here is when I should have jumped in and denied everything and supported Suzanne’s idea. Even though I can program computers, my intelligence that night with regards to husband skills scored a negative IQ. As an afterthought I realized how stupid I had been, all the money spent on creating a remarkable evening for Suzanne ruined by me, her numbskull husband. The limo, the dinner at the Biltmore and the necklace set all for nothing, a lack of words rekindling an old argument, one that was never settled.

She became rather quiet after that and although we still talked about memories and pleasurable events in our lives the tone of things had certainly changed. We did dance a couple of slow dances, but the evening had definitely cooled off. We left the restaurant about an hour later and had a pleasant ride home in the limo.

Suzanne was cuddled into my shoulder but still unusually distant, almost mute. She still reached for her necklace and earrings quite often which let me know that she really liked them. When we arrived home, the driver opened the limo door for us, and we walked up to our door arm in arm. She gave me a passionate kiss while I was attempting to get the door unlocked.

I managed to get the door open and adjourned to the great room where I got a fire going in the fireplace. It is a little chilly outside, and we had not turned on the central heat in the house yet. The heat from the fire was welcome, and Suzanne returned shortly with two cups of hot chocolate. We sat and cuddled sipping our hot chocolate.

Nothing was said, and we were both content just to listen to the crackling of the fire. Suzanne began nuzzling me around the ears and nibbled on them every once in a while. I returned in kind and soon we are kissing like two teenagers, definitely acting younger than our age. I suggested we head to the bedroom for further adventures; as we were making our way to the bed clothes got shed along the way, and soon we were locked in a passionate embrace.

Suzanne was still unusually quiet, and I was afraid that my comments or lack of had ruined the evening. Stupidly, I paused and tried to apologize to Suzanne for my behavior. Now when things seem to be making progress, although somewhat cooler than before, you might think that a married man with thirteen years’ experience would let things go. No stupid me engaged mouth and started the argument all over again. She let out a deep sigh and was apparently thinking what her response was going to be. Unlike me, she thought before she opened her mouth while I just let things fly. It was not the first time that I had rippled the waters, but all previous occurrences were subtle and the ripple this time was threatening to be a tsunami.

After a few moments she said we needed to clear the air about this difference of opinion. I started to reply, but she put her finger to my mouth. She wanted me to be quiet and listen to all that she had to say and then give her my answer.

She said that she was deeply hurt by my opinion and attitude. She had believed that I was more caring and appreciative of other people’s jobs and career. Apparently, I was no different than a lot of men in my attitudes, and that was not the person that she married.

“Unlike a male, females are often judged on their appearance, rather than skill or knowledge. That has added the necessity of looking good to a female’s life, whether she wishes to participate or not. The male is not judged the same; a hard working male often thought the same as a handsome male. I know that you’re aware of the work to maintain my beauty and figure and thought that you were more appreciative of the work necessary for a woman to keep herself attractive to her spouse and society. Apparently, I’m wrong and that has affected the relationship between us.”

Several times I tried to say something, but she hushed me each time.

“You need to prove to me that you understand and appreciate what women go through for their careers and spouses. If you truly love me, you will take a month off from traveling and live the life you think so little of - my life.”

A look of bewilderment came over my face, and I stared at her trying to figure out what she meant.

“The only way you will appreciate me and other women’s efforts is to do what we do every day for a while. Think of yourself as a woman, having to maintain your looks and beauty for your career and husband.”

My mouth is wide open, and I am at a total loss for words. Boy, did I step into the shit this time.

“I will sweeten the deal,” she chuckled, “if you last the whole month without a complaint, I will never bring up your traveling again and will forget about this argument, putting it aside. However, if you can’t last a month, then you will go through the entire modeling school curriculum and sign a contract as a model for two years.”

She warned me that she was serious and that this was not some scheme or part of a ploy.

“You obviously don’t appreciate what a female has to go through to live her life; well, I’m going to make you aware of it. Maybe, after this, you will appreciate the effort put forth by females, and me in particular.”

I never realized how much I had hurt her. Just chalk it up to a macho idiot with a loose mouth. The love for her was there, but my actions did not back me up in the proof department. I was flabbergasted by her deal, but I am sure I could last the month. To not have her bring up my traveling alone was worth the risk.

I asked her what I had to do for the month, and she said the same things a model and woman have to do.

“Since you’re at a disadvantage of not being brought up learning these things I’ll cut you some slack but you’ll have to wear makeup, walk in heels, maintain your figure, maintain your face and hair, and dress as an attractive woman. The look will be 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for the month.

“The last week, you will be in photo shoots just like a real model. You can still do your consulting work from home, but obviously, you’d probably prefer not to interface with your customers on a one to one basis. Other than a shopping trip or two and a visit to a salon you can stay at home. The last week as a model would be at my offices.”

I tried to negotiate my way out of some of it but to no avail.

Every time I brought the deal up, she replied to either take the deal as it stands or take my chances with her. Finally, she said she was tired and needed to get some sleep. I had until tomorrow morning to give her my answer, and she reached over to kiss me on the cheek and headed for the bathroom. Never in our thirteen years had she kissed me on the cheek.

I guessed I was in as deep as one can get in the trouble department. I was really in a quandary as to what to do but am sure that if I didn’t do something, things would be chilly for quite some time. I thought of the things she was asking me to do and while I was not looking forward to any of them they could not be that hard or difficult.

I was sure that I would look ridiculous in any of the makeup or clothes and hoped that she would forget about the month once she saw that I was attempting to comply. I was planning to apologize profusely once things calmed down some, which was sure to get me some slack. At least, I hoped it would.

I did stay up for quite some time sitting on the couch watching the crackling fire. My mind was running scenarios through it at a rapid rate, desperate to find some way to derail part of this. She can’t be serious, her husband living as a female for a whole month. About an hour later my mind shut down from too much thinking and without a clue as what to do. I staggered to bed, crawled under the covers, soon in a half sleep, half-awake stupor.

I didn’t sleep much that night, and I was up before Suzanne made her way downstairs. I had her coffee and toast ready for her. She thanked me and asked what I had decided. I lowered my head and told her that I would take her up on the offer, and I was sure I could hold out for the month. I wanted her trust and love back and would do all I could to earn them.

She again kissed me on the cheek and said for me to rearrange my schedule and then to call Jennifer, her secretary, and let her know when I could start. Jennifer would make all of my appointments and get me everything I needed to have to fulfill my end of the deal. She told me that either she or Jennifer would make spot checks to assure that I was adhering to the terms of the deal.

I asked if Jennifer had to be in on this, and she smiled. Her alternative was that I could have her mother check up on me, but she suggested that Jennifer would be the better choice. I agreed and shut my mouth. She left for work and I got on the phone right away to my customers and made my excuses saying that Suzanne was sick, and I needed to be with her till she made a full recovery. I guess, in a way, it was the truth; she was sick of me and my opinions.

Nobody was happy about this, but they conceded to it. I assured everybody that I could fix most everything by an Internet connection; only one customer was upset about the lack of traveling and they would come around once they got an estimate from any other techs on fixing their software. By ten o’clock, I had finished clearing my traveling schedule for the next thirty days.

I did stop and think about what I had just accomplished. Suzanne’s number one request had been handled in a few hours. Why hadn’t I done something like this earlier, or at least curtailed my traveling? I concluded that it was the money and my wanting to still be seen as the breadwinner of the family. Not the best reason, I was beginning to believe.

I stopped to contemplate just what I had agreed to. I was allowing myself to be made into a female model or at least as much as my body would allow. The change in gender was not very appealing but due to my big mouth, it seems that I had hurt Suzanne’s image of me and consequently our marriage. If I had not pursued the topic when it came up again after all those years, maybe things would have blown over, but I did and put both feet squarely in my mouth. Since they are not the tiniest of feet, I was surprised I could still talk.

I actually thought for a while that I was a fairly intelligent person. I could fix my customer’s computers over the Internet or in person with ease, but did not have the common sense to let an old argument die a natural death. I messed up this time; the jewelry set being the only thing keeping me in the ball game. I saw Suzanne looking at it the next morning as it lay on her vanity, one thing that I had done right.

In my mind, though, I still thought I was right. It was not hard work to dress and act like a woman, in fact, it was not even work. Where a man worked physically to accomplish a task or even if he had an office job, he was performing some actual job or task (work) to earn a living. To dress as a woman, wear makeup, get your hair done, and pose for a photographer couldn’t be put in the same context.

I knew that I would have to cooperate willingly for the next month without complaint. Suzanne would not be able to continue complaining about my travel since I would have stopped it. It would, no doubt, be embarrassing, dresses, makeup, heels and lingerie, not the most flattering on a male, but it should be a cake walk. Once she saw how ridiculous I looked, I was sure the deal would quit there. Besides, even if I had a change of opinion and did as she said, I doubted Suzanne would forgive and forget without some penance on my part. This thought reminded me that I needed to call Jennifer to let her know that my schedule was now open.

I had to look up her number in my contact list since we had talked only on rare occasions. She had always been very straightforward, never holding back her opinion, but always treated me like a friend. That was one of the reasons I tried to get Suzanne not to tell Jennifer about this. Having Jennifer know about this and watch as I tried to portray a female could not be good for my self-esteem. Of course, having Suzanne’s mother in on this would be disastrous since she had despised me since we were first married.

I knew Jennifer would set me straight soon after we got this started, but Suzanne’s mother would hold this over me for the rest of my life. Jennifer answered on the first ring, asking me what had got into me. From her statement, I presumed she had caller ID, as her words made it obvious she knows who is calling.

“This is surely the most stupid thing you have done in your marriage,” she stated bluntly.

“It’s nice talking to you Jennifer, and I’m letting you know that my schedule is cleared as of this moment. Yes, I agree on the stupidity part, but ‘have mouth always ready to engage’ seems to be one of my biggest weaknesses,” I replied.

“At least you’re not dragging your feet on this, Heather, which implies some intelligence on your part.” She paused then added, “Well, maybe not – clearly, the intelligent part was missing last night.”

Jennifer had always referred to me as Heather; I guessed she did it to annoy me, but in the twelve years I had known her I don’t remember her ever calling me Heath. I didn’t think she was ridiculing me, it is just her way of irritating me.

She had been Susanne’s secretary from the start; when Susanne had started handling models for her company, Jennifer was there to run the show. If a model stepped out of line, Jennifer handled it with finesse, and if that failed she could be blunt, real blunt - the model never had to be told about the problem the second time. She and Suzanne made a good team, two minds on the same track, making a success of the business.

From the start, I had asked her to please call me Heath, but I simply got ignored. To her my name would always be Heather, end of discussion.

Back to the present she asked if I was available for lunch. I said sure and was told to be at the Salad Hut in about forty-five minutes. She ended the conversation and I was still holding my cell phone to my ear expecting more.

I changed my clothes and headed out. From what I had heard from Suzanne, this was not uncommon for Jennifer. To the point quickly and when finished that is it, end of conversation.

It was a drive for me, but Jennifer only had to walk a block to get there. When I arrived, she was waiting for me in the lobby, and we were seated in one of the private dining rooms. I guess Jennifer had asked for a private table to discuss the plans. When we got to the table, she leaned over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, glad to see me again. I hugged her back but told her I would have preferred different circumstances.

She smiled and told me I would live through this like all the other disasters in my marriage but added that this was an eleven on the stupid meter. Yes, she had helped before when my mouth had rippled the waters of our marriage. In every case, it was my mouth that got me in trouble, but not to the degree that it had accomplished this time. After those incidents, we had remained friends, although we seldom talked to each other.

We paused to order, and I was planning to order one of their hoagies, but Jennifer told the waitress that I would be having the chef salad with Italian dressing. The waitress looked at me to see if I was going to correct her, but I sighed and said the chef salad would be fine. Jennifer ordered the same with iced tea to drink for both of us.

“The female lifestyle diet starts now, in case you are wondering. Living as a woman is far different than you imagine, to look good you have to fit your clothes, to fit your clothes you have to watch your figure.”

She stopped for a moment to choose her words, but I chuckled, “Just say what you’re thinking. I hope we’re friends and what you say will not bother me - at least, not much.”

“You know that you’ve caused Suzanne to question what type of person you are,” she said with another smile. “In all my years working alongside Suzanne, I’ve never seen her this way with anyone. You are going to have to prove yourself all over again to her to rebuild that trust. I think I know you enough to figure that you actually think that women and models don’t do anything but dress up and look pretty.”

“Yes,” I said, and I realized that was what got me into this trouble. “It can’t be that hard to have your hair done, apply makeup, and then stand in front of a camera and smile.”

“You need to forget about winning this deal, bet, or whatever you want to call it,” Jennifer continued. “If you go through the month with no complaints, your marriage will be over shortly after that, in my opinion.”

That statement got my attention.

“In Suzanne’s mind, it will linger that you think that all she does is just for show and not worthy of a career or job. Thus, it will only be a short time till it resurfaces again and again.”

I let my head fall for I knew that Jennifer is right.

Our food was served, and we took a few minutes to eat and discuss the weather, how Jennifer was doing and about my job. Finally, when our plates were picked up, Jennifer continued with her talk.

“Heather, you need to plan on going to modeling school and working as a model for a while for that is the only way that your marriage will work out.

“Besides Suzanne has wanted forever to get you off the road and home more. You’ll get an education, an understanding of how the other half lives, and a better marriage. Suzanne will get a girlfriend that is at home, and that is win-win for both of you.”

I responded that I did not want to turn into a woman full time, or a girlfriend, but I did want to save our marriage, I loved Suzanne more than she could ever know.

“I know how you feel about Suzanne, and I think I know enough about you to know once you get into this and let down your false macho front you will have a ball, and Heather will embrace total femininity. You need to trust me on this at least for the first month and see if what I’m telling you is true. If I’m wrong, we can change things around later.”

I told her that I didn’t like the options, but I had always trusted her judgment in the past, and I would cooperate for the first month, at least.

“My plan is to immerse you in femininity quickly and way past the guidelines that Suzanne had established. She will not know what to do when you exceed her guidelines and feel guilty somewhat. This will keep her off balance, and she will not pick at what you do or how you do it.”

“It will be hard for you, though, the makeup will be extreme, the hairstyle will scream girl, the clothes and shoes will be super girly. You will not be able to pass as a guy under any circumstances.”

I shook my head. “There is no way that I can be made to look like a woman; there is just too much male to be covered up.”

Jennifer opened the file folder she was carrying and gave me a copy of the schedule for the next few days. It included the times and places for everything that was to occur and whether I was to be alone or accompanied by her. It was very extensive and started later that afternoon. She next pulled out a picture of a woman and showed it to me. I told her the woman is very pretty, and asked if she one of Suzanne’s new models.

Jennifer smiled and said yes.

“She’s a new hire and will be modeling as soon as she completes her modeling school.”

I looked at the picture again and then back at Jennifer and shook my head saying there was no way that was me. She grabbed some other pictures, and there was my complete transformation step by step. I was dumbstruck, and at a loss for words. Jennifer suggested that I took some time that afternoon to get my head around this and then be at the first place on the list, the Turnabout Gurl Salon at five that afternoon. She would meet me there, and we could talk as they worked on me. I got a hug as I left the restaurant, then into my car for the drive home. Jennifer reminded me to be on time as I left.

All afternoon things ran through my mind at the speed of light. I had just committed myself to becoming a woman, at least in looks, for the near future. I knew without a doubt that Suzanne is more than worth the effort and embarrassment, but this was like entering a new and different world. How could I have been so stupid in my thoughts and actions? Well, I knew the answer to that already, I just did not want to accept the blame.

I did care for her, but it couldn’t be that hard to be a woman, to work for a modeling agency and to do the things a woman does. As the time passed, I became more nervous until I had decided just to give in, plead insanity, and hope for the best. As I was reaching for the phone, it rang, and Jennifer asked me where I was. I told her still at the house about ready to make a run for it. Jennifer chuckled and said I needed to answer the front door, then hung up.

When I got to the front door and opened it, there she was smiling at me.

“Let’s go,” she said and reached for my hand. I told her I needed to get my wallet and keys, but she said they were not needed. Jennifer had figured that I would balk as the time for the appointment neared, hence she decided to pick me up, ending the possible escape. I followed her to her car, and we drove off to my imminent demise. It was about an hour to our destination, and Jennifer had handed me a stack of papers to read and then sign. I guess Suzanne was not leaving anything to chance as there was a contract stating our wager and the terms thereof.

I glanced over at Jennifer and asked if this was real.

“Yes, Suzanne is adamant that you see things from her side and learn things that will hopefully make you a better husband.”

I sighed and stated that I had screwed up this time. Jennifer just nodded but tried to get my mind off of what was to come.

She parked in the front of the salon since they seemed not to have many customers at this time. The place was the Turnabout Gurl Salon, a very feminine beauty salon. Everywhere I looked I saw pink and lace, and then in between were pictures of gorgeous women. The name sounded familiar and when I looked at Jennifer with a puzzled expression she told me that this was the same company that Susanne worked for. The Salon had bought the modeling school about five years ago, expanding its scope to include managing the models as well.

This was one of their salons, and Suzanne ran the modeling division, both model management and the modeling school. From previous conversations, I knew Suzanne liked the new owner, her approach to things much more realistic and enlightening. I reluctantly got out and made my way to the entrance. Jennifer held the door for me and had a sweet little smile plastered on her face. She approached the receptionist and told her Heather was there for her five o’clock appointment.

The receptionist told us to follow her, and she led us to a private room in the back. Soon after we entered, Carol, the receptionist, told me to remove all my clothes and slip on the smock on the table. I could see this was going to be worse than I had first thought but did comply. After slipping on the smock, Jennifer told me to relax and let things happen. I snapped back at her that saying she is not the one that was going through this.

She let me have both barrels saying that if I had kept my personal, macho, chauvinistic opinions to myself, I would not be here. I lowered my head and apologized for the outburst. She smiled.

“You look cute when you’re angry and blush like that.” Then she leaned forward and gave me a hug and a cheek kiss, totally embarrassing me right down to my toes.

A rather slim, statuesque lady entered and introduced herself as Marcie. She lifted the gown and inspected what she had to work with and then called to another couple of women. Of course, I was still blushing and not knowing what to do. I am rather modest, and this was beyond my limits. Marcie could see that I was obviously new to this and told me just to let things flow along and in no time I would be a rather attractive woman.

That answered the question that I had of whether they knew what was to happen. She had me lie on the table face down and began to give me a massage. Her hands were very talented and in no time I was relaxed almost to the point of being asleep. They started to spread some warm substance on my legs and then blotting it with some type of cloth. The warmth felt good, soaking into my skin, relaxing my muscles and giving me an overall good feeling.

Marcie told me to grab the sides of the table and then they started pulling off the cloths. There were more than two hands involved as rapidly as the cloths were removed. I almost had a heart attack as the pain seemed to radiate through to every bone in my body. I could not catch my breath before the next one is ripped off. Finally, things eased off a little as they seemed to be through with my legs. I glanced at my hands, and they were almost white, as I was gripping the table with all my strength. Since it took me a moment to find where to grab hold of, finally finding the edge of the table was a relief.

Then it started again as they started on my back. Luckily, I do not have much hair on my back and chest, so it was just as intense but of less duration. She finished then rubbed a soothing cream on my back and the back of my legs. It was heaven, and I relaxed again but did not get sleepy since I was sure that they were not through.

Marcie had me turn over and asked me to grab a couple of rings that were suspended over the table. I now could see that Marcie had an accomplice in her torturing of me, and they were both smiling at me. Her partner in crime started on the front of my legs and Marcie worked on my chest. At least, they took turns ripping off the cloths instead of doing both at once. I was flabbergasted when Marcie kept working her way down to my genitals.

Marcie looked over at Jennifer.

“Heart shape?” she asked.

Jennifer nodded, and I tightened my grip on the rings. Soon the wax was spread, and I knew this was not going to be pleasant. Her helper pulled a couple of cloths off in quick succession, and then Marcie yanked hers off also and I just knew that I did not have any male equipment left.

It hurt too much, and there was no feeling left down there. It was like everything is numb. It turned out when I calmed down that she had used a salve that numbed things before she put on the wax, at least, in the area of the groin. It was still there although it had shrunk to a barely visible nubbin. I guess it was as scared as I was.

I was blushing, totally flustered and as Jennifer pointed out, at a loss for words. Another of Marcie’s assistants came in carrying a fleshy looking device, and Marcie pulled some attachments out of the end of the table. She asked me to put my feet in each one, and I then realized that these were stirrups like the ones used in gynecological exams. I had went once with Suzanne to her doctor, what I saw that day made up my mind to never go there again, no matter the reason.

Marcie started playing with my penis and then began working the device onto my male organ. I could feel her touching me but did not know what she was doing. Finally, she seemed to be happy with the fit and started spreading some cold liquid around the edges of the device. I could feel the cold liquid since it was on skin that had not been made numb. I raised my head a little to see what they had done, laid it back quickly, as what met my look was way more than I felt comfortable with. I was a female down there, with an exact copy of what Suzanne had. I would no longer be a Heath, since my male organ was gone, I couldn’t even feel it below the pussy that was now in its place.

The gal that had helped Marcie with the waxing brought in a couple of boxes and set them on the table next to where I was lying. Two very realistic blobs of flesh were removed with tiny wires attached to the back of the forms. I knew immediately what they were when I saw the nipples on the front of the forms. The fact that they were breasts didn’t have as much effect as the size of the breasts did. They were huge, jiggling and moving when nobody touched them. I swallowed hard, thinking these were going on my body, and I would have to live with them for a whole month, maybe more.

In a panic, I looked over to Jennifer and she just nodded, smiling a little as she winked at me. Marcie played with my nipples until she got them to harden a little and then proceeded to attach a small surgical clamp to each one with glue. The wires from the breast form led directly to this clamp. She repeated the procedure on the other nipple and then touched both nipples on the forms, and I was shocked as I could feel the touch in my own nipples.

This couldn’t be; surely this was impossible, but as she rubbed the nipples on the form I could feel every touch or point of contact. She even moved her fingers off of the nipple, and I could still feel like someone was touching my nonexistent breast. She next positioned the forms on my body and using a different, very cold substance apparently glued the forms to my chest. She made sure that they were positioned correctly and then used the second substance to hide the seams of the form.

They were very large, rather heavy and very responsive to any body movement. Next, Marcie took what appeared to be a hair dryer and started warming the forms. For a while, it is quite uncomfortable with the heat and the sensation of my nipples. She moved down to my genital apparatus and repeated the procedure there.

As the numbness began to recede the feeling came back to my genital area, and I could feel the hot air blowing over me. Apparently, not only will I look like a woman I will have feeling just like a woman. Marcie told me to rest for a while and then they will continue with their work. As she left, she smiled and told me that I did well since most men that have had the same thing done are quite vocal and crying during the process.

I laid there with my eyes closed for a few minutes until Jennifer asked what I thought so far. I told her that she was certainly right; it was the most stupid statement I had ever made.

“Well,” she said, “at least you were an hour into your transformation before you saw the light.”

I asked if this was normal for most women and Jennifer nodded.

“It takes too long to shave every day and since most women have some body and leg hair it quickly becomes a real chore. A model needs to be hair-free to model lingerie and clothes, and you now can see why females are lined up to take advantage of this treatment.”

“Add to that a job, shopping, kids, a husband, and soon there is no time for anything else. A good waxing and the special cream they used on you, and you should be good for at least six weeks.”

“I’m not talking about the hair removal,” I told her. “The female titties and the pussy is what I’m concerned with. Isn’t this a little extreme?”

She said that she told me that I was going to be totally immersed in this. “Besides, how can you know what it is like to be a woman without tits and a pussy?

I started to ask how I was going to have sex with my wife, and Jennifer got the biggest grin on her face. She told me that I was now the wife and a woman and just how did I think a woman has sex. “Suzanne will now be your husband, and she will take care of your sexual needs.”

I immediately thought of Suzanne doing things to me that I normally did to her. It was a very uncomfortable thought. It occurred to me that a little of this was way more than required for the bet, and I was still unsure if it was Jennifer’s or Suzanne’s doing. I could see it being either of them, as they’re both crafty enough to enjoy seeing Heather squirm. It worked because I was already squirming, big time.

Marcie returned and asked if I was ready to proceed. I just nodded, and she helped me put the smock back on, and I followed her to one of the styling chairs. She asked if my new appliances were pinching or hurting. I told her no but questioned whether they would they stay on in a shower or bath. Marcie responded that they were a part of me until they removed them.”

“The glue is a special type and is heat activated. The skin will come off before the appliances let go. Normally every six weeks they are removed and cleaned and then reapplied. My only thought is that the six week period is longer than the month I am supposedly doing this for. If you listen to Jennifer, I’ll be doing this for much longer, even years, if what she says is true.”

She changed topics to my hair and said to get comfortable in the chair as they were going to weave some longer hair into my own and it would take a while. Both Marcie and her assistant, Carol, each working on opposite sides of my head quickly added long sections of hair to my locks. As I watched in the mirror, I realized that I now would have hair past my shoulder blades, whereas before it only came to the lower part of my neck.

As they finished a section, I could not tell the extensions from my own hair. They matched perfectly in color and texture. I asked about how long they would last, but I was afraid I already knew the answer to that. It turned out that I had guessed correctly, and they would be with me till they were cut off or fell out.

A quick look in the mirror confirmed with certainty that I would not be able to pass myself off as a man anymore. Two hours later, they had managed to cover my entire head with extensions. The sheer weight of the new hair clearly would have me holding my head differently. The new hair looked fantastic and very feminine, but somehow I was just not excited about the addition.

I caught Marcie heating up the wax pot again, and I looked concerned. “There’s nothing left for you to wax,” I protested, but Marcie pointed to my eyebrows and I slumped down in the chair. There was no easy way for me to get through this. I was already aware of things that I had never considered with regards to women and their appearance and every few minutes more were added to the list.

The fact that I did not want to know these things was apparently inconsequential. Marcie made quick work of my eyebrows, and now all I had was two highly arched pencil thin lines above my eyes. The fact that it made my face utterly feminine was not lost on me, but it had not hurt like the waxing on the rest of my body, it was both a shock and a relief.

Again, I stared at the image in the mirror and remembering the picture that Jennifer had shown me earlier that day, I could see that the picture was accurate, and I would now be seen as a woman by anybody gazing at me. Marcie and Jennifer were conferring a few feet away, and I sensed it was not going to be a pardon or parole, but more like an added sentence for behavior unbecoming a woman.

The next procedure was makeup and Marcie rolled over to my styling chair a large box looking like a fisherman’s tackle box and opened the lid. As the lid rose, two separate trays pulled out and every conceivable product conceived to make a woman look beautiful must have been in this box. Marcie pulled items out and dabbed a little on my face apparently to match colors. After twenty minutes, she had apparently picked out my colors, and she started on me.

She said the first order of business was to do something about my beard. It has always been rather light and quite often I could go two to three days before having to shave. However, in this situation, any facial hair was not acceptable to my new femininity. Marcie smeared a whitish cream over my face making sure she had covered any areas where I had beard growth.

Twenty minutes later she washed it off with an astringent, and I could not detect a beard shadow anywhere. She told me that I would have to apply this cream about once a month and then after several applications, I would not have any beard left. I guess that was not all bad, for I never looked forward to shaving, but it was another nail in the coffin to me returning someday to my masculine image.

A concealer was next over any skin blemishes that I had, followed by a foundation that was smoothed out, then she used powder to set it. A blusher was added to my cheekbones that changed the look of my face. As Marcie was doing the blusher I had been looking at her own makeup, noticing how her cheekbones are highlighted to make them stand out.

Now mine were highlighted, although Marcie had used a burgundy blusher on mine. Marcie was showing me how she was doing the makeup application, the colors she was using, and why she was doing it. For some reason, I was interested and really paid attention to what she was doing. From the blusher, we moved on to the eyes, as she used eyeliner on both the top and bottom of my eyes.

Next came mascara in a light brown color; in fact, five separate applications were applied. Each application added length and volume to my lashes. When she was done with my eyes, I blinked several times, fascinated by how thick and curly my lashes are. She added a little light burgundy eyeshadow to my eyelids to tie in my makeup colors. Last but not least was a deep burgundy lipstick applied inside a dark wine liner for my lips.

All through this, I had been watching Marcie doing my makeup and at each different cosmetic application, my face was getting more feminine. Finally, after she was finished, Jennifer summed it up best.

“Heather, you’re a real knockout!” she exclaimed.

In a way, I was proud, but then the reality grabbed a hold and I realized I was this knockout and underneath it all I was a male, or at least I used to be - the image in the mirror says otherwise.

Marcie was apparently finished for now though she said she would be seeing me the next afternoon for makeup lessons and hair styling. Jennifer reached for my hand, led me back to the private room and asked me to remove my robe. As it slid off my body, I tried to turn away; Jennifer had never seen me naked before, but then I realized after all of this, who cares? A look in the mirror convinced me that being seen naked is no big deal now, since I have as feminine a body as Jennifer now - maybe even a little more so.

She handed me a pair of panties, and I sighed then pulled them up my legs. The emptiness between my legs was not missed by me, that more than anything so far making me nervous, almost nauseous. A bra was next, and it felt good to be wearing one since the weight of my breasts was now supported some. I don’t think that any male has any idea how heavy a woman’s breast are; I know I didn’t. The bra did help considerably in relieving some of the weight pulling at my chest. I was surprised at the laciness of it, yet it held my new jiggly masses firmly. You just knew it had to be a light peach to match the cami that was also destined for my body.

A pair of jeans, way too small in my opinion, was handed to me, but when I pulled them up they slid over my hips and fastened at the waist. A camisole was next in a light peach color with spaghetti straps. I felt almost naked with this top on, but an ecru sweater was handed to me next and Jennifer fastened one of the buttons below my breast. It was short sleeved helping with the bare shoulders, but the brighter peach color was sure to focus even more attention on me.

She brushed my hair and added a scrunchie to my hair as she pulled it back into a high ponytail at the back of my head.

“Not bad for today,” she said, looking me over, “you will definitely turn heads when we get you completed.”

She asked if I was hungry, my stomach communicating with her without my vocal input. I was overcome with emotions and feelings, totally out of it, as I followed Jennifer out of the salon.

She chuckled and reached for my hand and off we went. It somewhat felt comfortable being led away, my male cockiness and independence now a thing of the past. It was now getting late, almost ten thirty in the evening, and we went to a diner specializing in breakfast served most any time. We were seated, and I did not notice till we were in our booth that I had been seated and not even thought about my appearance. The next surprise was totally unexpected as Suzanne entered the restaurant and came over to the booth.

She was eyeing me up and from old habit, I stood like I did when I am dressed in a masculine way. Her eyes scanned me up and down several times as she tried to take all of me in. I cleared my throat and asked if she liked what she saw. She was quiet for several minutes and then she came around to my side of the booth and pulled me into a very passionate embrace. I tried to joke with her that she was going to mess up my makeup and both Jennifer and Suzanne broke into laughter.

I sat back down, and Suzanne slid beside me and continued to take in all of the changes. She finally looked over at Jennifer.

“Did you have anything to do with the additions to the contract?”

“No those are Heather’s choices. I advised and consulted, but Heather decided on all of these by herself.”

When Suzanne looked back at me, I could see the start of tears appearing in her eyes.

I asked if I had done something wrong and through her tears, she just nodded no.

“I love you so much,” she whispered.

I glanced over at Jennifer, and she winked at me knowing that what she had told me was coming to pass. I now had a much better appreciation for Jennifer’s opinions and ideas.

We had ordered omelets and hash browns. They were especially good, and their fresh squeezed orange juice completed the perfect late night meal. Suzanne spent most of the meal taking in my new features and making soft, delicate sighs as she appraised what had been done to me. After the meal, Jennifer bid us adieu and Suzanne led me to her car. I got a big hug and kiss from Jennifer as we parted. I whispered in her ear, thanking her for all the good advice and getting a nod from her as she left. Before she went she reminded me that she would be by at nine the next morning to take me to my next appointment.

On the way home, Suzanne was a little quiet as she had to concentrate on her driving. We managed to make it home in one piece, and Suzanne was able to get to my car door before I could find the seat belt clasp to release me - it is much harder to find the release when boobs are involved. At every turn of my body a breast was in the way; a very significant sized obstruction, I might add.

She opened the door for me and held out her hand to help me out of the car. As I got out of the car, she pulled me to her and I received another long and passionate kiss. I just relaxed in her arms and let myself respond to her as if I was a woman responding to her lover. Needless to say, tongues were involved, and it took us ten minutes to get out of the garage into the house.

For a lot of reasons, the male bravado that I had been accustomed to in the past felt wrong. I no longer thought like a male. Instead, the female in me was emerging. I quit initiating the kiss, deciding it was better to receive than to be on the giving end. I knew the kiss was a lot more sensuous and the feelings more intense as the emotions swept through my body.

I finally got to the bedroom hoping to be able to change into some more masculine clothes; I was prohibited that pleasure as I opened my closet door and saw that all of my male clothes had been removed. The closet was empty except for a yellow and pink sundress that I presumed was going to be my outfit for tomorrow. I headed over to my dresser to look for some of my old boxer shorts to find the same scenario. Everything in the drawer was gone except for a nightie, a couple pair of panties, and another bra.

I turned back to look to see if Suzanne had followed me; she was at the bedroom door looking at me. She calmly asked me to remove my clothes and put on the nightie and come to bed. I removed the nightie from the drawer and headed to the bathroom. The jeans and sweater came off, then the camisole. I stared at the image in the mirror and had a hard time seeing any sign of the male that I was this morning.

Nothing but a feminine looking woman could be seen in that mirror. I decided to leave the bra on since I liked the support that the bra gave me. I wondered what cup size I was, and then I wondered why I was concerned about that. They were large that’s for sure. Comparing mine to Suzanne’s I thought mine were larger. With my somewhat larger body, I guess they were in proportion. I slipped my nightie on and then decided to remove my scrunchie since I figured it might be uncomfortable sleeping in it.

Suzanne had put on a pair of pajamas definitely a female color but still she was covered in all the erotic places. She was lying on the bed and patting the mattress next to her and smiling in a Cheshire cat way. I made my way to the bed and sat on the edge of the bed. I was staring at my feet hoping that Suzanne would not make fun of me. Here I am the supposed man of the house in a nightie looking like some goddess with my wife the more masculine of us in a pair of pajamas.

She wanted to know if I had any troubles that day since I had done far more than she had required. I told her it was all new and at times disturbing, but I was trying to show her how much I loved her and that I would do anything to gain back her trust. She leaned me back on the bed with my head resting on her lap and started caressing my breasts. She soon discovered that I had left my bra on.

“Why are you still wearing your bra?”

“The breasts were a bit much without the support and the bra sure relieved the tension on my shoulders. Of course, the bra stops the wildly jumping around when the breasts are not restrained and makes me feel much more in control.”

She had me raise up and reached her arm behind my back and releases the clasp. She slides the same arm around the front and lifts the bra cups so that the breasts flop out. I remember when I used to unhook Suzanne’s bra that way; things had certainly changed.

She raised my nightie up to my shoulders and leant down taking my nipple into her mouth; I let out an unexpected groan as waves of pleasure swept over me. Her tongue swirled around the nipple, and she nipped the end of the nipple with her teeth. That sent me totally off the chart with feelings. She moves to the other breast, and I notice that my nipple is already hard awaiting her manipulations.

She kept this up for a while and then slid her left hand down to my new vulva and while caressing my breast she inserted a finger into my new vagina. I thought I would leave the bed as my whole body spasmed in a gigantic blur of bliss. I was now having trouble breathing and all of a sudden she touched a spot in my new orifice; I sensed another wave of pleasure wash over me, then I passed out.

Suzanne was holding me and cradling my head against her breasts when I regained consciousness. Of course, the pajama top was still between me and her nipple, but it felt so good just to lie there with my tongue darting back and forth through the fabric, trying to get her nipple excited. I asked her if sex for her is like what I experienced. She said with the right foreplay it was every bit as good as I had experienced and sometimes better. How could what I had experienced be any better?

We held each other for a while, and I started to pull myself up. I thought it was only fair that I try to repay Suzanne for what she had done for me. As I reached out my hand for Suzanne’s breast, she pulled back and smiled.

“Not tonight honey, maybe tomorrow. You still need to cleanse your face of the makeup and brush your hair before you can go to bed.”

I was going to protest, but I remembered one of the purposes of this wager. I pulled my nightie down to restore a little modesty and headed to the bathroom.

I must have looked horrible with my bra still scrunched up above my breasts. Suzanne told me what cream to use and how to get the makeup off totally. Upon entering the bathroom, I removed my nightie and then put my bra back on. The ‘girls’ sure appreciated the support and being covered up again. Not even one day had passed since I started this excursion into femininity and I am already calling my breasts my girls. I was not even sure where I picked up that term - Suzanne had never used that name for her breasts.

I slipped the nightie back on and then started removing the makeup. Surprisingly not a lot of it was smudged but two applications of makeup remover cream were necessary to get all of it off my face. I found the moisturizing cream where Suzanne told me it was and applied a liberal coat to my face and neck.

Suzanne also told me to put some on my hands and arms and so I covered them as well. I grabbed Suzanne’s hair brush and padded back to the bedroom, only to be sent back to the bathroom to find my slippers that were there. Finally, I returned to the bed. Suzanne told me a hundred strokes through my hair and then she would put my hair up in a braid for sleeping.

I started brushing and soon I was getting goose bumps. I finally made it through the hundred strokes and let my arm fall and then handed the brush to Suzanne. She brushed my hair a little more strongly, pulling the hair to the back of my head. She separated my hair into three or four sections and started braiding my hair and then used my scrunchie to secure the bottom.

I reached up to feel the braid and thanked her for doing this for me. She told me I would learn to do this myself, as it was necessary to keep from spending hours trying to get the snarls from my hair when I awoke.

My next question embarrassed me - I asked if it was normal for me to be leaking sticky, yucky fluid from my new vagina. I had noticed it in the bathroom before, but now it seemed to be increasing in volume. Suzanne burst out laughing, and it seemed like forever before she was able to bring it under control. My face was thirty shades of red and tears were streaming down my cheeks.

Between little outbursts of laughter, Suzanne reassured me that it was perfectly normal and that the liquid was my own cum. Women leak after sex, she informed me, unless they stay in bed on their backs; when the sexual activity is particularly heavy they leak even when they do not get up.

Most women take a bath or shower to get rid of the excess fluid and wash really well down there. If they are not worried about getting pregnant, they just use a tampon to absorb the extra fluid until they can bathe.

Suzanne paused and looked directly at me. “I’ll get you a tampon and show you how to insert it,” she smiled.

I tried to decline her offer, but she reminded me that it would continue to leak all night if I didn’t handle it there and then.

“Please get me one,” I said, letting out a sigh.

All this time my face was getting redder. She went to the bathroom dragging me behind her and pulled a tampon out of a drawer. She told me to sit on the toilet after pulling down my panties.

“Now pull off the wrapper and spread your legs wide apart. Now grab the tampon and insert it into your vagina until it is about halfway in. With your other hand push the plunger in and then remove the plunger.” She cautioned me to make sure the string is free and hanging down before I inserted it. I tried to do as she instructed, but it was like working with my hands in gloves.

For one thing, it is not often that a male puts anything in his body between his legs, the action proving difficult, but getting both hands into the right position is frustrating. The fact that my boobs were blocking the view and in the way of my arms was of no help what so ever. I was a male and even if my appearance was showing otherwise I should not be shoving a tampon up my vagina. Now that is a sentence from hell. Finally, Suzanne took pity on me, grabbed the tampon and told me to put my hands on my hips.

She reached down and inserted the tampon then pushed the plunger. I was trying to watch to see what she is doing but when she pushed it in I lost all concentration as my body took a deep breath, and I closed my eyes.

Suzanne stood there looking at me. “I guess you are a little more sensitive down there than I am,” she smiled.

I felt so humiliated, her husband wearing a tampon, the most feminine of items; surely it couldn’t get any worse.

I was shivering from the sensation, and I leaned over to Suzanne for some support. She cuddled me and suggested we go to bed. I walked a little funny on my way back to bed, but Suzanne was able to refrain from any outward display of laughter. We got into bed and Suzanne lay behind me cuddling me, much like I used to do to her. As she cuddled, she whispered that she loved me so much in my ear. I told her I loved her and I drifted off to sleep. It was not actual sleep, more like exhaustion and over stimulation of the body. Bottom line, I was out of it and did not have any other lucid thoughts till morning.

The alarm went off, and I had been dreaming about buying a new pair of high heels. They were patent leather in a black color with a four-inch stiletto heel with a rounded toe. I was trying them on in a mall store and I was fascinated with my appearance in them. The fact that I was not even aware of the terms that I had used to describe the dream should have concerned me. It took me awhile to regain my composure and to figure out why I was dressed the way I was.

Suzanne apparently was already up and dressed, and she pulled the covers off of me.

“You need to get dressed because Jennifer will be by in a little less than an hour. Are you sure that you wanted the rounded toes?” she asked before explaining that the current fashion was a pointed toe.

That last was said as she cocked her head at me and smiled. I looked at her as if I was a dumb blonde and asked how she knew.

“You were talking in your sleep, and I thought it was so sweet that you wanted a pair of high heels. You be sure to tell Jennifer that is what you want. I want to see you in them tonight when I get home.”

She told me she had started my shower and to pull the tampon before I got in.

“Wash down there real good and put another tampon in before you put on your underwear. You might still leak some today, and the tampon will keep you dry. Your panties and bras are in your underwear drawer where your nightie was last night. Then wait for Jennifer to help you with the rest of your clothes.”

She pulled me over and gave me a passionate kiss, with lots of tongue and told me to have fun, and she would see me that night.

I just stood there trying to get my breath back. Why were things so emotional, and why is everything making me yearn for more physical contact with my wife? As a male, I liked kissing and hugging every once in a while, but now I seemed not to be able to get enough of it, I was constantly looking forward to more.

I finally made it to the shower after doing my usual business with the toilet and removing my tampon. I stripped off all my clothes and got in the shower. We had an ultra-modern shower that after the water had reached the set temperature, it would shut off until you got into the shower. Then it would start again, just the same temp as you set it, and it was a real water-saver.

The water was perfect and felt so good, but when the shower head pulsed with that first burst of water, it hit my breasts taking my breath away. Even a shower was making a shambles of my new and decidedly different body. I washed down there really well and cleaned around my new breasts, but direct contact was too erotic with either locale. I had put a shower cap on before I got in, thinking that my new and enhanced hair did not need washing. I shut the shower off and stepped out of the shower.

I heard Jennifer calling to me. She must have let herself in and with the noise of the shower I failed to hear her. I told her I was in the bathroom, and I would be out in a minute. I brushed my teeth and tried to loosen the sleep braid that Suzanne had done for me last night. I finally got the scrunchie loose and undid the braid.

It felt good to shake my head and feel my hair caressing my shoulders and neck. I started to leave the bathroom but remembered the tampon. It felt a little wet down there, and I did not want to embarrass myself later with liquid leaking from my vagina. I sat on the toilet and tried several times to get the tampon in where it belonged.

Finally, I closed my eyes and just felt down there until I found the slit and then pushed the tampon in and with my other hand depressed the plunger. Another deep intake of breath and a couple of shivers and I was done. I checked to make sure the string was visible and headed to the bedroom. Jennifer was sitting on my bed waiting for me and pulled me to her to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

She seemed to think that I was looking almost too good for what had happened yesterday. Then as she was appraising my body, she noticed the string. She cleared her throat and asked if I wanted to tell her anything. I had not been looking at her, and I did not know what she was talking about. She pointed to my genitals, and I blushed again, I think, even brighter than before.

I tried to explain to her that Suzanne had taken advantage of me last night, and afterward I was leaking. The only solution according to Suzanne was a tampon. She also found this to be highly entertaining and while she was giggling and laughing, I tried to find a pair of panties and bra to make myself a little less vulnerable.

We were able to get over the tampon discussion and Jennifer had brought a couple of bags of clothes for me to wear today. We apparently had plenty of time since, according to Jennifer; I did not have to be anywhere till ten-thirty. She had me try on several outfits, but she ended up deciding on the sundress that had been in my closet. I would have been happy with any of the choices, but no I had to try them on, then decide which looked the best.

She had a pair of high heels for me to wear with three-inch heels. They had peep toe and straps along the sides and back showing off a lot of my feet. She helped me to buckle them but told me I would have to practice getting them buckled and unbuckled with the new nails you will receive today. She told me that I would not always have help for this.

I walked around the bedroom for a little while to get comfortable in the shoes, and then Jennifer surprised me with her next comment.

“You are such a babe - not even a day as a woman, and you’re acting one hundred percent female. Your walk, how you handle your new body and your attitude are just so girly. Heather, you have to be a girl at heart trying to pass yourself off as a man.”

I was not sure anymore; maybe I was part woman. All of this should have made me sick. A normal male would never have allowed any of this to happen to him. Everything was definitely different, but a lot of the things were not that bad. The breasts felt like they should have been here all along, the heels felt good, and the clothes felt natural, like I had been wearing them all my life.

“When you and Suzanne came up with this ridiculous wager, I knew that Heath would cease to exist, but even I did not think it would happen this quickly. That is the main reason I immersed you in femininity right from the start knowing that Heather would see her chance and Heath would be packed up and sent away. Do you want to tell Suzanne now or wait till a little farther into the wager?”

I smiled but told Jennifer that I wanted to wait. “I’m not sure of my feelings yet, I think it’s best to wait until I get to experience more of life as Heather.”

We adjourned to the kitchen and got some juice then went to the den to sit down.

“If I decide to stay as Heather, is there any way to make some of the changes more permanent and, if I do, would Suzanne welcome them or turn me away?”

She smiled and told me Suzanne would take me any way she could get me but in their conversations, she knew that Suzanne would welcome with open arms a more feminine Heather. I asked her about breast implants and Jennifer smiled and told me she already had an appointment for me in a week in case I would want to pursue that course of action or similar treatments. She also hinted at some other treatments available that would not require an operation to get breasts, ones that would last until I had them removed.

I asked her about my job, and she said that I could continue with it if I wanted, or I could be a model and make almost twice as much as I was making now.

I must have looked surprised to her because she then told me, “You have no idea how drop dead gorgeous you are and how photogenic.”

She reached over into her purse and removed a couple of pictures that were taken at the salon yesterday. “These were taken with a low-end camera and in very poor lighting but even you will have to agree that the woman in these shots is definitely model material.”

I looked at the pictures, and slowly I became more aware of the likely truth to her statement.

She told me not to get a big head since modeling as a career is a lot of work and effort even if some of the treatments are performed for you. We put up our glasses and grabbed our purses and headed out to Jennifer’s car. I was thinking about the purse I was carrying, and how I had just referred to it as my purse. Maybe Heather is taking over; she obviously has not been happy with the prior arrangement.

The first stop is a corset shop that made custom corsets. I asked Jennifer how long before they would have a corset for me if they only made custom corsets, but Jennifer just grabbed my arm and escorted me into the shop. Anna was the owner of the shop and apparently knew Jennifer very well. Anna led me back to the rear of the shop to a partially closed off room and asked me to remove all of my clothes except my panties.

I guess a couple of days ago that would have bothered me but today I was thinking “Wow, I’m going to get a corset, and my figure will never be the same. What normal guy gives a damn about his figure?”

Anna took some measurements and asked Jennifer which one she is interested in today.

“Do you have the Victorian one done? If so, let’s go with that one.”

Anna said that all of the corsets she ordered were ready for me. With the choice made the Victorian corset was brought out. Anna looked at me and said it would be tight on you since you are not used to being in a corset.

“Let’s try it,” I said, “and if I can handle it, we’ll go with it.”

An absolutely gorgeous garment, the corset was covered in lace, but stiff as can be - I thought it would be able to stand by itself with as much boning as was in it.

Anna asked me to reach up and grab hold of the rings above my head.

They were only a few inches above my head, and I grabbed a hold of them. Anna brought some straps over and secured them around my wrists and then hooked them to the rings. She explained it would take a while to get me accustomed to the corset and holding the rings that long will get tiring so we secure your wrists to the rings to make it easier. I did glance at Jennifer quickly as this was getting serious fast.

I started to tell her that I would have no trouble holding the rings above my head when she activated a motor, and my body is lifted up so that just my toes are touching the ground. Now I understood the reason for the straps. I looked down at my body, and I could see that my waist had become smaller as my torso had been stretched out. Anna approached and fastened the corset around my body.

It was tight, but no laces were pulled up yet. She then attached two cords coming from a motor on the wall to the corset laces. She then took two more straps and attached my ankles to two rings on the floor. A button push on her remote control and the motor started pulling the laces on my corset. I couldn’t move, my feet being secured kept me from being pulled towards the motor. I felt like I was being cut in half by the corset, each minute the tightness increased a little more.

The motor would run for a few seconds, and then stop, and then resume a minute later. Meanwhile, Anna was using a hook type of apparatus to pull out the slack in the laces at the top and bottom of the corset as the motor pulled on the laces. I was relieved when she pushed the button, and everything stopped for a while. I felt like a string of an archery bow, being stretched one way by the motor and held in place by the rings the other way.

She took a ten-minute break then pushed the button for the motor again and the tightening resumed. The motor did not run as long this time, but the tension in the lacing was much tighter. Another ten-minute break and then Anna lowered the winch some allowing me to stand on my whole foot and not just my toes. Then the tightening again but a few more seconds between each cinching.

I thought that there was no slack anywhere in the corset since I could hardly breathe; only small breaths would work. I am glad that my body is still supported for I felt very faint several times. Anna put another belt around my waist and attached it to the motor She activated the motor again, and the motor tightened this one up.

She stopped it and switched the motor back to the corset and pulled more slack out of the corset. It was getting hard to breathe, and I was feeling very faint. She stopped everything and said we would take a twenty-minute break. Thankfully she lowered my arms a little and offered me a drink of water. As she squirted the water into my mouth, I was very thankful.

Jennifer complimented me on my figure and rolled a full-length mirror into the room so that I could see for myself. I am able to put a smile on my face seeing that now I had an actual feminine figure instead of just straight up and down. After twenty minutes, I could breathe easier, even though, the breaths are little, and the faint feeling is fading away gradually.

Then Anna raised my arms and started tightening the laces again. A long and painful fifteen minutes followed, and then Anna announced that the corset is now fully closed. She lowered my hands, and then she and Jennifer each took an arm to support me. My ankles had been released after the corset tightening had been accomplished, allowing me to move.

I was helped over to a stool so that I could rest for a minute. She told me that it would be impossible for me to sit for several hours since the corset was holding my body in its rigid embrace. I could stand or lean against a stool or counter for support, but to actually sit was probably not feasible.

Jennifer helped me into my dress and we were ready to leave. The dress is much looser around my waist, several inches of slack now visible. Jennifer then picked up the other ten corsets that Anna had made for me, paying the bill before we left.

Getting into the car was a real hassle, Jennifer having to place a couple of pillows on my seat, so I was essentially lying flat on the seat instead of sitting. The corset was not going to allow any movement resembling being seated. Jennifer had laid the seat back in a reclining position, I bent my knees and fell backwards on to the seat, then had to push with my feet to get up farther on the seat. A most unfeminine entry and a very uncomfortable position to be in. It required a bit of wiggling before I achieved even the smallest comfort. Trying to stay modest in the dress I was wearing made this a most daunting feat; I felt sure I flashed a lot of people as I made my entry.

Next stop was back at the Turnabout Gurl Salon for makeup lessons and again Marcie was my taskmaster. I will not describe the exit from Jennifer’s car, needless to say it was very comical and difficult for me. Due to the corset, I was sat at a higher table on a bar stool - leaned against the stool would be a more accurate account. The table covered with cosmetics of every kind imaginable. Marcie showed me each one, explained what it was for and applied it to the right side of my face. I then had to apply the product to my left side. It was the third or fourth try before I managed to imitate her actions.

All the while the corset was remolding my body. “The corset will reshape your body over time,” Marcie informed me, “until the semi-hourglass figure is yours to keep. The fat will get re-deposited to your breasts or your hips, the next closest place that it can go.”

As these words were shared with me, Jennifer was quite happy at that prospect. My boobs also made life difficult always brushing my arms as I tried to make any movements to apply the cosmetics.

Back to my cosmetics training; I had to remove the makeup when I flubbed up but then had to apply the product to both sides of my face. She went through concealer, foundation, blush, eyebrow pencil, eyeliner, eye shadow, mascara, lip liner, and finally lipstick. Then after she was satisfied that I had the basics, she had me clean everything off and do it all myself from a clean slate.

About the fourteenth or fifteenth time of this exercise, she decided that I had accumulated enough skills to get by. I figured from the comments about my lashes that the mascara was not adding enough volume and length for their satisfaction. Marcie took care of that by adding individual eyelashes to my existing ones. Each lash glued to one on my existing lashes, permanent till my old lash was shed.

The added emphasis that they made to my eyes, the first thing that anybody looking at my face would see, was dramatic. I was aware of them since I was looking at everything through my lash framed eyes. At first, Jennifer was at a loss for words as she took in my lovely eyes then she grabbed her phone, took several close-up photos of my face and sent them off somewhere.

Marcie’s next area to attack was my nails. In short order they were filed, the cuticles pushed back and trimmed, and extensions added to my now very feminine hands. My hands had always been smaller than most male’s hands, an embarrassment when I went to shake some guy’s hands. Now they looked feminine, the extensions making the fingers look slender and long.

A base coat, then three coats of a rich red polish completed the manicure. She also added a top coat for an ultra-glossy finish that made my nails glisten in any light. I felt that it would be impossible to do anything with the talons that had been added to my nails. Several sharp stabs of pain radiated through my hands as I tried to do anything with these new symbols of femininity. Even scratching an itch on my nose became an effort in futility.

It wasn’t too long before she received a text message back, presumably from Suzanne about the photos. Jennifer grabbed my hand and quickly led me out the door. This time entry and exit of her car was better, at least there was no laughing at my expense. I asked her where we were going but was told to wait and see. Twenty minutes later we pulled up to Suzanne’s office that is also home to the modeling school.

Jennifer told me to go with the flow for the next couple of hours; the text message said that Suzanne wanted to experiment with a few things with my look. Jennifer told me that she wouldn’t be far away and, after the photo shoot, she would take me home and explain everything. I was led into the building and then off to one of the studios that were used for photo shoots.

Left alone by Jennifer, another woman, who I believe was introduced to me as Cybil, took me behind a screen and quickly undressed me. I just stood there, not knowing what to do or how to accomplish it. When I say undressed, I mean everything including my panties. The corset was allowed apparently since it was still there after all of my other clothes disappeared. Then Cybil handed me a negligee to put on, along with a thong panty.

It was very diaphanous, showing all of my assets in exquisite detail. I was led out to a fancy canopy bed and instructed to lie on my stomach facing where the camera is set up. I did have to have some help to get down on the bed since the corset had other ideas as to my flexibility. I felt embarrassed, to say the least, but nobody was paying any attention to me as they were busy setting up the lights for the shoot. A lady photographer came in and checked the set-up, telling the assistants to adjust a couple of things.

She smiled at me, asking if this was the first time I had done any modeling, my expression apparently confirming her observations on the matter. She told me to take a few deep breaths and listen to her instructions as she told me where to move and what facial expressions she wanted me to display.

I felt like I was on a runaway train; my heart was beating way too fast, but my mind was the true fatality here. It was happening too fast; I had just got a female figure, but here I was in the sexiest bedroom pose possible, scared to death of everything. Jessica, the photographer, was trying to get my attention. Finally, when she told someone to bring in the male lover, I made the connection with her.

She smiled at me, telling me that always works to get the model’s attention. She posed me on the bed, first with my legs bent at the knees, and then stretching out on the bed as if I just woke up. Over the next hour, she had me in every position possible and then a couple that seemed unreal. I was told to smile, pout my lips; pretend to kiss my lover, even a few while I was sucking on my fingers; that last one very embarrassing by the way.

When she had finished, she complimented me on my effort, telling me that we would see each other quite a bit in the future. The four hundred pictures she got of me were perfect, and she was sure that I would be in front of a camera quite often in the next few weeks. I looked around for Jennifer but didn’t see her so I presume she was with Suzanne.

Cybil did find me, and she helped me change back into the clothes that I came in. It was nice to have some clothes on again, especially the bra as its support of my breasts was very welcome. I appreciated my regular panties that I had worn, after my time spent in the thong. The piece that runs up between your ass cheeks is just so uncomfortable.

After getting changed, I went out to the front of the studio where Jennifer was waiting for me. She grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to the offices. Suzanne was waiting for us, and there on a jumbo computer monitor set up on the wall, was one of my pictures displayed on it. I sat down on the loveseat, or rather, I attempted to sit down and then Jennifer got me a couple of pillows to allow me to stretch out a little. The corset was easing up a little, or my body was giving in, I am not sure which. The end result was I could actually bend a little at the waist before the corset stopped any further movement.

Suzanne hit a button on her computer starting a slide show presentation of the photo shoot on the wall monitor. I was ashamed at first; here I was, Suzanne’s husband, dressed as a seductive female in nothing but a negligee on the screen. Then after a few shots, I forgot the embarrassment and focused on the pictures. They were really good, a pretty seductive female posing for her spouse in the boudoir. The ones with my breasts peeking out from the nightie particularly erotic, a nipple swollen into a hard nub especially noteworthy.

I regained my redness; I was Suzanne’s husband and was looking at pictures of my nipples swollen in anticipation of her lover – it couldn’t get any worse than that surely. It was similar to my first night with the ‘girls’, a night I would not soon forget nor would my nipples. Again a male calling his breasts his ‘girls’ - could professional therapy be far off?

I watched the entire presentation but didn’t say a word about the pictures. Jennifer and Suzanne were also quiet, but their attention was definitely in the image on the screen. After the computer had run through all the pictures, Jennifer was the first one who spoke. She asked if I still had the same opinion that got me into this mess. I quickly told her no, my opinion of models had changed completely.

Suzanne entered the conversation, telling me that they were going to have to change my contract immediately. I thought that this comment meant I hadn’t lived up to some part of it, begging them to give me another chance. Jennifer giggled a little but told me that the changes were necessitated by the results of the photo shoot.

Suzanne wanted me to experience a short photo session, to make me aware of all that was involved. It was done on the spur of the moment to keep me from reacting in a bad way. The first photos that were transferred up to her computer changed everything. She sent down a messenger to tell Jessica, the photographer, to take a more varied and complete set of photographs of me.

Every photo that was being sent to her computer was fantastic. Jennifer, at Suzanne’s direction, had already sent a selection of the photos to some of their clients. A sort of ‘putting out feelers’ to see what interest there would be in my modeling. As we sat there, her computer pinged, and Suzanne opened her email account. After reading the email, a smile appeared on her face.

One of her biggest customers, a fashion house, decided that the photos were what they wanted and asked that a photo shoot be scheduled so that they could see the model in their clothes. In the meantime, they wanted an exclusive on my services until they could view the proposed photos.

Jennifer was looking over Suzanne’s shoulder at the email and had a predatory look on her face. Her comment was simple and brief: “Heather will be quite busy in the near future.”

I was totally lost at the suddenness of these developments, a sort of punishment for my remarks turning me into working as a model instead. Surely they had another model that would be better for this type of work than me? Face it; I was a male, not even the correct gender for such a career.

Suzanne again turned me over to Jennifer, and she led me out of the office. Jennifer could see that I was super stressed and suggested we take a short break. We went to her office, and Jennifer gathered a couple of diet drinks from the small refrigerator. We sat at a counter on bar stools and talked for a while, with me getting more and more scared of all that is happening.

I told her that I just couldn’t do this; it was all uncharted territory for me. I realized I had stupidly spoken about Suzanne’s business, but a male modeling as a female was just too much. Jennifer typed in a name on her computer, and a gorgeous female came up on the screen. I asked her who the model was. “Andre Pejic,” she replied, “the current top model for fashion.”

I didn’t see how a picture of a female model could apply to my situation.

Jennifer told me that if Andre can model the clothes, she was sure that I would manage. I started to protest that she was a female, and then I realized what Jennifer had done. I turned every shade of red as I became aware that Andre was a male like me. Then she pulled me up from my stool and led me to a mirror and told me to tell her what I saw in the image before me.

I stuttered for a while, then told her a female.

“Wow,” she said, “it only took you the better part of the day to realize that you are now a female as far as appearances go.”

I knew when I was beaten and asked Jennifer what was next.

“Since you’re most likely going to be modeling in a professional capacity very soon, a little more training as soon as possible would be the best approach,” was her response.

She informed me that she would get me in a couple of the classes tomorrow: runway modeling and poses for a model so that I could get a feeling for what I would be doing. Suzanne had decided that Jennifer was going to handle me personally since I was so new to this and apparently going to be in high demand.

I was led off by Jennifer as we made our way to her car. I propped myself there in the passenger seat, pillows underneath me to ease the pressure of the corset, thinking about all that had happened today including the photo shoot and modeling I had done. The attitude that I had before about the models doing nothing was so obviously wrong. I felt like I had been put through a wringer after a few hours modeling before the camera. I now had a realistic idea of what a model has to do to earn a living as well as respect for their work.

As we got to our house, Jennifer had pulled into the driveway, then escorted me to the door. I searched my purse for the house keys then remembered that Jennifer had told me to leave them at the house this morning. Jennifer unlocked the door with her keys; then we headed to the kitchen. I put on a kettle for hot water, so that I could make a cup of relaxing tea. Jennifer joined me, asking if I was going to be alright. I told her I thought so, but some of the things that had happened that day had still not made it to my brain.

I was advised again to immerse myself in the role one hundred percent; forget about Heath for a few months, and enjoy some of the enjoyable parts of being a woman. Then when I had convinced Suzanne that I had truly understood what a model and woman’s life entails, then I could return to my male bravado, if I so desired.

The talk between us varied as my mind was not as rational as I would have preferred. Jennifer seemed to be steering the conversation towards what I might do in the future. I was not against the ideas she had introduced to my thought processes, but the whole idea of me as a female and model had yet to gain a foothold in my mind.

Changing sex is really a big deal both mentally and physically. One of the male traits is that he is action orientated, he wines and dines a female, plays a little with the romance thing, then wants to get his rocks off, mission completed. A female wants the feelings to accompany the actions; she wants to feel loved, wants the kisses to last, and after the orgasm, she wants to cuddle with her spouse and enjoy the feelings again and again.

I told Jennifer that I always tried to treat Suzanne like that, she deserved the whole package, not just the highlights. Jennifer confided in me that Suzanne was aware of that side of me, but my misguided opinion of women and modeling went directly against my treatment of her personally. Suzanne loved how we have sex and how I treat her, but then to be told that the life of a female and model was so easy seemed to her to be an insult to her career and person.

I told Jennifer that I would take the high road and give in to all requests and demands, giving my hundred percent to the cause. I just hoped that there would be something left of Heath to salvage after the ordeal. Jennifer smiled and leaned closer whispering in my ear that maybe Heather will take over, and Heath will be relegated to the junk pile, a last year’s model with no upgraded software.

Before I could respond to her statement, she told me to be ready at seven AM., when she would come by to pick me up. A skirt, a top, stockings and a pair of heels would be required for the next day’s classes.

“Incidentally, you’ll be back in the studio Monday morning for your first full day of modeling the clothes for your new client,” she added. “Expect the day to be twelve to fourteen hours long, with lunch on the go.”

I was given a quick kiss on the lips while her hands were squeezing my boobs. She also hoped that I would last the weekend as Suzanne was sure to take advantage of her new plaything. How would I react since I was now the object of desire and not the pursuer? Maybe I would get a sneak preview tonight. Jennifer was a doll and had loosened my laces on the corset a little allowing normal movements for my body somewhat, though the definition of ‘normal’ might need to be clarified.

I made dinner, a one-skillet meal that was fairly easy to handle. Salads with everything I could find in the refrigerator plus a vinegar and oil dressing that is a favorite of Suzanne’s. A pitcher of green tea, a favorite of ours, rounded out the meal. While I was waiting for her, I checked my email to see what business I had missed and what had to be done to keep current.

There were a couple of problems to fix for my customers, a twenty-minute session online, and it was handled. The work was done on autopilot, though, as my mind was still at the photo shoot, and the pictures that were taken were flashing through my mind. My new longer nails did wreck havoc with my typing, causing several mistakes that I had to go back and fix.

I heard Suzanne’s keys in the door while I headed to the kitchen to finish the meal and set the table. Suzanne had changed clothes, joining me in the kitchen at the bar that we normally ate at. It was so much easier than setting the dining room table and hauling the food and dishes back and forth.

We ate in silence, with Suzanne often looking my way. I asked her how her day went since that was a normal part of our evening conversation. She told me that they had found this new model, a real gorgeous female that her clients are going crazy over. I immediately was crimson, as I figured that I am this new female model. She told me there were now four companies interested in securing her services, all of them wanting exclusives with that model.

After giving me this tidbit of information, Suzanne’s eyes resumed their scanning of my new image. I felt a little uncomfortable, with her obvious interest. I wondered if I had ever made her feel uncomfortable with my actions toward her. We finished the meal, and she helped me wash and put away the dishes. Doing the dishes was not my favorite thing, but tonight it would at least restrict the time that Suzanne could play with me.

I got a kiss for making dinner, and she was appreciative in other ways too. I was not sure if I could ever get used to this kind of attention; it felt good, but the feelings that accompanied the attention were so intense that I lost my train of thought. It was one thing to give out that kind of attention, but receiving it was another thing altogether.

I was literally dragged to the bedroom, and within a couple of minutes, I was naked. I was embarrassed, blushing and unable to raise my eyes to meet her. The only good thing resulting from this was that the corset got removed. It felt so good to be able to breathe, but looking down at my body, I noticed my nipples were rigid, seemingly excited by their newfound freedom. Suzanne leaned over and took a nipple in her mouth, the sensation sending me backward to land on the bed. My feet just gave out, the feelings so overwhelming my senses.

I was made love to that night, similar to what I did for Suzanne as Heath, but the sensations I was receiving made me a quivering pile of goo. I was lost in my feelings, as every caress of my new body sent waves of pleasure through my mind. Unfortunately, my mind could not handle these feelings since nothing I had ever experienced before felt so intense. After Suzanne wore herself down, I just lay there staring at the ceiling lost in my thoughts.

I tried to return the love by caressing Suzanne, but she was so physically exhausted she just wanted to cuddle. After a few minutes, she regained her voice and asked if I enjoyed that as much as she did. I told her that it was the most wondrous thing that ever happened to me. I was thanked and repeatedly kissed for going a little further than I had to. She was appreciative, expressing her feeling that I really did love her in a special way as befits two people deeply in love.

I started to bring up the disagreement that started all of this, but I was shushed immediately. Suzanne told me in a rather direct way that there would be no further talk of that subject until I completed my contract. In a way, I thought if I apologized enough at the start that I could get out of some of this. I realized that was not going to happen anytime soon, if ever.

Since my introduction to modeling had taken such a sudden leap forward, she asked me to apply myself as much as possible to the classes and instruction.

“It now looks like you can make three to four times your yearly salary in the next couple of months if you want to take the offers that are out there,” she told me. I was surprised that there was that much money in modeling.

Suzanne told me that Andre Pejic made a little over four million dollars in his modeling jobs this past year. The agency that handled her made almost a half million dollars as their fees for getting her the work. She confirmed that if I took the jobs that were on the table now, her agency would make somewhere between forty and sixty thousand dollars in the next couple of months representing me. Since all of my beauty supplies and treatments would be supplied by the salon, any money I made would be all mine.

I was speechless, never having realized that modeling was such a dynamic business. Two days into this experience and already all of my perceptions about modeling were shot down in flames. I guessed I was wrong about a lot of things, my male opinions and ideas are obviously outdated and chauvinistic. For once, my mouth didn’t betray me. I had learned to keep my opinions to myself, whether they meshed with others or not.

I was so comfortable, warm and cuddly in my nightie, snuggled up next to Suzanne, but am reminded that I had to remove my makeup, moisturize my face and hands, then brush my hair before I could slip into dreamland. I let out a growl, causing her to giggle. Yes, it was a growl; I am not a happy camper about leaving my comfortable spot to perform a beauty treatment.

I slipped my feet into my mules, a new necessity to my bedside. True to everybody’s predictions my feet now required the mules to be able to navigate the bedroom without pain. My tendons had shrunk, and were very reluctant to stretch out again. The mules allowed trips to the bathroom to be pleasant and comfortable, while keeping my legs looking their feminine best.

Suzanne reminded me that I had signed a contract for doing everything that she did on a regular basis; besides, with modeling work coming my way it was her job as my agent to make sure that I complied with any and all beauty treatments to facilitate a successful conclusion of any offered jobs.

I literally stomped off to the bathroom, although wearing mules severally restricted any actual stomping that I might have been able to accomplish. It took me twenty minutes to perform the dreaded tasks, but by that time, I had mellowed a little. She was right, I had agreed to all of this, and after returning to the bed, I apologized to my lovely wife. I received a kiss on the lips, along with a couple of squeezes of my breasts before we settled back under the covers.

We fell asleep cuddled together on the bed in our nighties, the closeness of warm bodies and slippery nylon feeling so different than before all of this started. Suzanne and I had cuddled before, but the tenderness and feeling of something special between us was not there. The erstwhile experiences and habits were so different now, with breasts, hips, and a new genital appliance. It was just not comfortable lying on my back, much less my stomach as I used to. Lying on our side spooned to each other was just so much nicer, a truly enjoyable experience.

Like most mornings, the time to get up and get ready for another day came way too early. I beat Suzanne to the bathroom, performing my new daily tasks, then returned to the bedroom to find some clothes to wear. I noticed that my hair had several tangles from not putting it up or braiding it. This took several minutes for me to work the brush through the tangled spots to release the knotted hair. I made a note to myself to take the extra time to put in a braid or bun before I crawled into bed.

Suzanne told me to slip on a robe and get some breakfast as Jennifer was on her way over to help me pick an outfit for today. I would spend the entire day in the class on walking and deportment of a model. She strongly suggested that I wear some nylons since I would be in heels all day and the lack of nylons usually caused raw or rubbed spots on a woman’s feet.

I found a pair of pantyhose in my lingerie drawer and rolled them up my legs. Rubbing my legs together to feel the pantyhose almost caused me to swoon. Such an erotic feeling, although most of the female experience had so far been an adventure in eroticism. A fresh bra and panties completed the underwear portion of the dressing.

I slipped on the robe and made my way to the kitchen. Suzanne was still in the shower, so I made the coffee and found some fresh fruit to nibble on for breakfast. I made her a small plate for when she finished her shower, then headed back to the bedroom. I decided that I could get my makeup done while I was waiting. Sitting down at her vanity I started smoothing out the foundation on my face, the first step back to the model Heather. About thirty minutes later I had my full face on, discovering that Suzanne had retrieved the fruit and had been watching me apply the makeup.

I was complimented on my abilities and then she kissed me full on the lips, telling me that the lipstick still needed a little work. I shot her a nasty look and she giggled all the way to her closet. A couple of minutes later Jennifer showed up, picking a skirt and blouse for me to wear. The skirt was very tight on my thighs and extremely short, coming to only a few inches below my panties.

The fact that it fit my waist was because Jennifer had helped me back into the corset. She got it tight on me, but not nearly as tight as the machine had done the day before, a most appreciated favor. The blouse was a ruffled affair, making my breasts seem much larger than they were. I was given a new pair of shoes, with a five-inch heel, a definite stiletto with an ankle strap. I teetered my way to the front door after recovering my purse. By the time I got there, my teeter had become less noticeable, although it had been replaced by a pain that shot up my calves.

We rode in silence to the office. Jennifer had tried to get a conversation going, but I was so lost in thought that I barely heard what she was saying. When we got to the offices, I was taken down to the modeling school that occupied a whole floor of the building. We entered one of the classes and Jennifer introduced me to three females. Josie was the instructor of the class, with Beth and Wendy the two other students.

They were dressed similarly to me, short tight skirts and substantial heels. Jennifer gave me a hug and cheek kiss and left. Josie told me what they were doing, essentially learning to walk the runway in the model’s walk. It differed from normal walking since the movements were more pronounced and exaggerated. Josie would show us what she wanted, and we would keep at it until we had it down.

There were heels there for each of us with different heel heights so that we could change shoes every hour or so. It was obvious that the people running the school were experienced models as this seemingly minor thing helped keep the pain of walking in heels all day down to a manageable level. Learning the walk after Josie’s sensuous demonstration didn’t take any cranial matter; it was just a matter of making it a natural muscle memory.

I was left thinking about all the things that had happened in the last day or two. Since my disastrous model comment, it seems like the world had turned against me, given me a female body, getting a job as a model, wearing feminine clothes 24/7 being just a few of the tribulations that had affected me. Yet I was enamored by the whole experience, even looking at ways of perpetuating it as it was apparent that Heather had a toe hold and was looking for ways to expand it.

When we got tired of walking the runway, Josie had us try the stairs. Going up was not too bad, but descending stairs without looking at your feet is like trusting your car to a thief: scary as hell. However, after twenty or thirty trips up and down the stairs I was able to portray the model that I was expected to be. Josie insisted that we navigate the stairs without looking down since the photographer would be shooting our faces and upper bodies as we descended.

Lunch couldn’t happen soon enough, the need to get off our feet for a while the most important consideration. In fact, I don’t even remember what I ate for lunch. During all of this we were never allowed to take off our heels, only to change them to another pair. Beth had done a little modeling before, although nothing professional, so she was somewhat used to the heels.

Wendy was a newbie to wearing heels all day and I was new to wearing heels at all. Surprisingly the taller heels were easier for me to get used to than the three-inch heels, the shortest we were allowed to wear for the class. The afternoon dragged on, seemingly never to end. Both Suzanne and Jennifer stopped to check on me, but neither stayed very long or attempted to save me from this inhumane punishment.

Finally, when the class was over, I went up to Suzanne’s office to see what to do next. I was welcomed by Jennifer and quickly made my way to the couch. I promptly sat down and removed my heels. I rubbed my calves and ankles trying to find any good feeling that might be present. I decided I was thirsty and started to go to the mini fridge to get a diet cola when the first step I took without the heels nearly landed me on the carpet.

Jennifer chuckled, asking me if I was alright. I rubbed my calves and especially my ankle trying to figure out what happened. Then I remembered my tendons had tightened, so just like last night I needed to wear heels anytime I wanted to go anywhere. I did manage to get my diet cola after slipping on the heels, the coolness of the liquid being a welcome relief to my throat.

Jennifer told me that wearing heels all the time usually resulted in shortened tendons, thus requiring the continued use of the heels to be able to walk. Unfortunately, a hazard of being a female model, although the pay usually makes up for the inconvenience. My mules were undoubtedly going to be an essential for around the house, especially early in the morning.

Suzanne came into the office talking on her cell phone to a client; it seemed to be about scheduling a photo shoot at the last minute. She paused her conversation asking Jennifer to see if she could get a photographer for tomorrow and then call the salon to see if they had a makeup artist available for all of the next day. She told her she needed the answer as soon as possible.

Jennifer went to her desk and started making calls. On the third call, she managed to find a photographer, the same one that had taken my photos the day before. Then she dialed the salon, telling them she needed a makeup artist for all day tomorrow. She listened for a while then wrote down the name that the lady had given her. Jennifer told her she would let her know the starting time in a few minutes. She relayed the information to Suzanne then waited for her to conclude her conversation.

Suzanne finished her call, telling them that they would have the pictures electronically the next day, and then she would wait for their call and decision about the model. With those words, I had a bad feeling that I was somehow involved in this. Tomorrow might be a longer day than I imagined. I was hoping that another day of classes was the bill of fare, but with both Suzanne and Jennifer looking in my direction, I doubted that would be the case.

Sure enough, when Suzanne put down the phone, she confirmed my fears. Apparently, there was a bidding war for my services, and this was the first designer that declared dibs on my services. If they didn’t decide on signing me, there were three other companies eagerly wanting to see me in their clothes. I sat down hard in the chair; the world must have gone mad, four designers wanting me, a male, to model their women’s clothes.

Jessica would be my photographer and Janice from the salon would be doing my makeup and hair. The clothes were being sent overnight by UPS and would be here by ten AM., along with a representative from the fashion house to prepare the clothes and help in dressing the model. I was told that Jennifer would bring me to work in the morning and would stay with me all day. With the plans firmed up, Jennifer suggested that she get me home so that I could get my beauty rest. Suzanne told me that she would bring dinner home, Chinese if that was okay with me, and would be there about six-thirty.

The Chinese was good but my appetite was off, partly because of the corset and partly because of my worrying about the next day’s shoot. Suzanne had some calls to handle, so I cleaned up the kitchen then made my way to the bedroom. I changed into my nightie, a new experience that I was finding that I liked a lot especially when the satiny material slipped down over your body when you first put it on. I remembered to keep the mules handy for making the short trip to the bathroom to handle my nightly beauty regime. I skipped putting on the corset, hoping maybe it wouldn’t be noticed.

About thirty minutes later Suzanne made it, quickly disrobing then heading to the bathroom. She completed her beauty treatments, then joined me in a very brief baby doll nightie that was almost transparent. The image before me was truly erotic, but with junior secured away, it was apparently the job of my nipples to indicate their approval of the image that was displayed before them.

Then Suzanne started the video of her nightly workout, one that she had used for over a year. Since the argument she had skipped the workout, but tonight was not to be one of those nights. I was dragged from the bed made to put my heels on and stand beside her. I was already tired, but doubted that would prevent me from doing the workout with her. She started out slow, allowing me to skip a few of the exercises, but the pace steadily increased. Thirty minutes into the workout I was actually feeling better, none of the exercises were hard, just required some movement of some sort. Doing it in heels was unusual, but I knew I couldn’t stand without them. I started feeling the muscles that I was using, nothing bad yet, but could definitely tell I was using them. By the end of the workout, I was almost keeping up with her. When the video ended I was embraced enthusiastically, and smothered in kisses. Score another point for Heather.

To the bathroom now, my beauty regime awaited. It was easier, the exercise making me feel a little better and energetic. The brushing was still a real chore, but it was getting easier. I was not sure if it was the hair or me getting better with the brushing. Back to bed, Suzanne waiting for me.

The two hard round points of my nipples conveyed their approval of the sight of her, with Suzanne zeroing in on them as her first target of the evening. I was tired and stressed to the max, so I just lay there enjoying the sensations that were radiating from my nipples. Suzanne pulled me closer to her, all the time keeping a nipple firmly entrenched in her mouth.

She was telling me something about the bidding war for me, in between sucking on my nipples, but my mind closed down, and I was fast asleep within minutes. Incidentally, there is no better way to go to sleep than being with someone, your nipple in their mouth.

I woke with a start in the morning, suddenly my mind was functioning again, and I knew this was going to be a long day. I made a quick trip to the bathroom, performed my daily tasks then looked for something to wear today. Yes, I was atop my mules, since not using them was murder on my calves. I decided on a pair of pants and a short sleeve blouse. I don’t even remember the color since my mind was on the day’s activities.

I sat at the vanity working on my makeup, just doing the minimum since I was sure that it would get changed as soon as I got to the studio. I did get a smooch from Suzanne, with her asking me if I remembered anything that was said last night. The blank look on my face answered her question, so she suggested that I ask Jennifer when she arrived. In a light-hearted manner, she suggested that they change my hair color to platinum blonde since it would fit my personality better.

Suzanne sneaked another kiss and left the bedroom as Jennifer came in. I was checked over then told to grab my purse and we were off. Jennifer made a small detour to a Mickey Ds for nourishment, and then straight to the studio. It was shortly after eight when we arrived, the photographer was setting up, the fashion house rep busy unpacking clothes, and my makeup/hair stylist setting up her workstation. I was introduced to the rep and the Turnabout Gurl Salon employee.

Giselle was the rep; we hugged and then she appraised what she had to work with, apparently happy with what she saw. She had brought some clothes with her to use until the shipment arrived. A portable steamer was being used to remove the wrinkles; then they were hung on a rack. I briefly looked at the ones hanging there and they were beautiful. Then the thought that I would soon be wearing them, to have pictures taken to promote their product, made its path through my brain.

Janice was the stylist from the salon, and as we were introduced, she pulled me to her impromptu vanity and started cleansing my face. She twisted my hair into a bun and pinned it to keep it out of the way. When that was accomplished she had me remove all my clothes, I looked around for somewhere to accomplish that task, but Janice just stepped in and quickly I was naked.

Jennifer saw my distress and told me photo shoots like this are intense, and there is no time for vanity or privacy. Once an item has been photographed, it is time to take it off and get into the next outfit. Every few clothing choices the makeup or hairstyle is changed then back to taking photos.

There I was sitting at the vanity, completely naked except for my panties, which, by the way, had been changed to a white thong with the back strap firmly entrenched in my butt crack. Janice used a little heavier application of makeup than the other stylists at the salon had used, presumably because of the lights and photos. My first outfit, an LBD was slipped over my head and zipped up. I was standing there looking at my image in the mirror, both nipples at attention and no bra to minimize the distinct points of my nipples.

I thought somebody had forgotten part of the clothes, but I was moved in front of a white backdrop with the camera snapping away. Jessica had a cable attached to her camera, and the photos were being uploaded directly to Suzanne’s computer and then to the customer’s computer. Jessica kept me moving, turning first one way then another, a considerable feat since I was wearing four-inch heels. I thanked Jennifer for the lessons yesterday; it would be murder without the all-day training I had just received.

About every fifteen minutes there was a costume change, usually involving a change in makeup and hair style. The changes in wardrobe, hair, and makeup required the entire fifteen minutes so on the average I modeled a new outfit every twenty minutes. After two hours of this, the stupid remark that I had made really came back to kick me in the butt. Then the UPS shipment arrived, and I just moaned, more outfits to model, thinking that this day may never end. We did take a few minutes around one o’clock when Jennifer brought us some snacks to nibble on. Giselle, Jessica, and Jennifer could partake all afternoon, but since I couldn’t muss my lipstick, I was denied that privilege. My only chance was in between makeup changes where I could sneak in a nibble here and there.

Sometime during the afternoon shooting Jennifer said that the company whose clothes that I was modeling loved the pictures and had already signed the contract. There had been no further negotiating on the contract, all of Suzanne’s demands had been happily accepted. Then she told me that I would be back before the camera the day after tomorrow. A prominent makeup company had also signed, wanting pictures for their new spring line of cosmetics. They were jettisoning their previous campaign, wanting to take advantage of my face for their new line of cosmetics.

I was brought back to the here and now when Giselle started undressing me so she could change the outfit again. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth and was back in the swing of things within moments. It is kind of like being in a whirlwind, constant movement on the set, with Janice changing makeup and hair every few minutes. Even though she was using cream to remove the makeup between applications, my lips, in particular, seemed raw and puffy.

Jessica made things interesting by making small talk as I was guided through the afternoon’s shooting. She would make comments about kissing my male lover, about waiting for my lesbian partner to suckle my breasts and deep throat her dildo. These choice tidbits were inserted at random to keep me on my toes. Speaking of toes that was another sore subject, the combination of yesterday’s class and today’s shoot meant that my feet and calves were aching badly by four that afternoon.

I made a note to myself, to put my actual foot in my mouth next time to keep dumb and stupid remarks from escaping my mouth. To think that I actually thought that being a model and a woman was so easy, no wonder Suzanne was peeved. Jennifer did manage to get me a sandwich later that afternoon as we were finishing up. I devoured it quickly, my hunger overriding any feminine concerns. Jennifer just smiled and giggled, she knew I had learned my lesson, but also was aware that it would be some time before a chance to return to maleness is even possible.

Jessica had gone over all the pictures that were taken making sure that she hadn’t missed something, a total of ten pictures of each outfit taken. The camera angle, the lighting, and the distance varied in each shot to allow a wide range of photos to choose from. Jennifer had checked with Suzanne to make sure that the client was satisfied before they decided that the photo shoot is finished. I dragged myself over to the makeup chair and plopped my body down, vowing never to get up again. Giselle is getting the clothes ready to pack, then asked Jennifer what outfits I wanted. I looked at Jennifer not understanding what Giselle meant.

Jennifer handed her a list of clothes that I wanted, thanked her for her help and then dragged me from the studio. We went up to Suzanne’s office, and as we entered, I was almost knocked down by an enthusiastic wife and boss. She planted kisses all over my face, holding my head so that I couldn’t escape. Jennifer was splitting a gut with laughter at my surprise and embarrassment. I managed to presume that she was happy with my work today, but it was just posing for pictures, not really a big deal.

Suzanne told both Jennifer and me that the client was so happy with the pictures that they were sending a bonus along by courier. Also, they had just told Giselle to leave the entire wardrobe for my use. I knew that was significant since it took five mobile display racks to hold all the clothes used in the shoot. I was impressed, but Jennifer stated that there were underlying reasons for that action. If I wore one of their dresses to a social affair, they would get the free publicity since what models wear to galas is reported in all of the papers.

Jennifer could see that I was losing the battle with sleep, telling me to repair my makeup, then she would get me home. When I looked in the bathroom mirror, I giggled to myself there were lipstick marks all over my face, where Suzanne couldn’t control herself. I managed to get most of them off, then repaired my own lipstick, then my mascara. Then the realization of what I had done came to me; I was a male, but I felt like I had to repair and freshen my face before I could be seen, even for a ride home in Jennifer’s car.

I dozed off twice on the way home, but I did manage to stay mobile until Jennifer got me into the house. She pushed me to the bedroom, helped me get undressed, then slid my nightie over my shoulders. She had to drag me to the bathroom, I just wanted to lay down for a while, but Jennifer was aware that if I laid down it would be the next morning before I was even remotely able to carry on a conversation. She made me remove my makeup, moisturize my face, then brushed my hair to get it into a braid. I had been seated on the toilet and was leaning over to the counter, just anyplace to rest my head.

Somehow she got me into bed, then kissed me before covering me with the blankets. I did remember her calling me a good little princess. I don’t remember a thing more until almost eleven the next day. Jennifer was leaning over the bed trying to get me to wake up. Finally, she gave me a toe curling passionate kiss, then swatted my butt with her bare hand.

I had been lying on my side, thus open for the attack that she launched on my poor fanny. I tried to make some sense of what was going on, with my right hand rubbing the spot where she clobbered me. I sat up in the bed, then made my way to the bathroom. It must have been ten minutes later when my flow of water finally subsided. If Jennifer had not got me up, I would have probably drowned right there in the bed.

Jennifer told me that I needed to get dressed, nothing fancy, just some jeans and a top with minimal makeup and brushing my hair. It was quite some time before I could make two thoughts process in my brain at the same time. Jennifer giggled when I finally awoke enough to know what I was saying and doing. I asked her what was on the agenda for today, hoping that another day at the modeling school was not on the schedule.

She stated that Suzanne was for me spending another day at the school, but she suggested a day of pampering at the salon instead. I attacked Jennifer thanking her profusely for her rescue; she broke out in giggles, and we made our way to her car, both laughing at my actions. The idea of a day at the salon was wonderful; I know a male shouldn’t love to spend a day being pampered and preened, but it felt so natural, so right.

I watched in the mirrors as they worked their miracles on me again, no part of my newly acquired femininity was left out. I received another facial, with an avocado mask, then a special conditioner for my hair along with a heat treatment to set the conditioner. My few body hairs that had made an appearance were waxed off, and then a special moisturizer was applied and rubbed in with a rotary brush.

By the time that was completed, I was off in dreamland; it felt so good. They wet set my hair in a multitude of different size curlers, then under a dryer for an hour to get it dry. While my hair was drying they changed the polish on my fingernails and toes, a beautiful dark pink polish now adorning my nails. Finally, at five o’clock they were finished, and Jennifer and I made our way home. She stopped at a deli, and we bought the ingredients for subs plus three different salads to nibble on.

Suzanne was just ahead of us as we pulled in the driveway, eagerly exiting her car and making her way to me. I was hugged, with such force that I couldn’t breathe for a minute. Jennifer had already entered the house with the food, and Suzanne escorted me to the kitchen. It had been decided that Jennifer would have dinner with us and spend the night, then all three of us would go to work together in the morning. Suzanne told us that the courier had arrived with the bonus, she reached into her purse and withdrew a check for twenty thousand dollars. Five of it was for the agency; the remainder was mine alone. That was some bonus for a day’s work, but thinking of what I had done to earn it, I decided it was an appropriate amount for my effort.

We worked together on making the subs, then sat at the bar in the kitchen to eat them and the salads that were bought. The food hit the spot, then I thought back to what nourishment I had consumed in the last twenty-four hours, and decided that watching my feminine figure could wait for another time. We chatted about the shoot, the bonus, and what was next for me. Suzanne seemed to think that the sky was the limit since as soon as some of the ads surfaced featuring me, more advertisers would want to cash in on my popularity.

I thought otherwise, how anybody could consciously use a male to advertise female clothing was beyond me. Then Jennifer mentioned Andre Pejic again, a male making his living modeling female clothes. I guess with his success and my apparent popularity at the moment, it was a moot point anyway. It was getting late, so we decided to turn in. Suzanne and I went to our bedroom, where I undressed then slid into a nightie that was laid out on the bed. Jennifer had retreated to the guest bedroom, as we had made our way to ours.

Suzanne had used the bathroom to finish her nightly preparations, emerging several minutes later dressed in a nightgown and peignoir set. We slid into bed, kissing and fondling each other, then Suzanne took the top position as she maneuvered herself above me, holding my hands above my head as she kissed me on the lips and breasts. I just moaned as the feelings overwhelmed me, way too many sensations trying to influence my brain, and it felt like I was shutting down due to all of the activity. I didn’t fight it; although I had to perform my daily beauty regime I had so far lucked out and avoided the workout.

Suzanne was the first to orgasm; apparently, my new appearance was a very big turn on for her. As she lay by my side on the bed, I kissed her on the lips then suggested that it was unfair for Jennifer to be alone in her bedroom. She gave me a quizzical look, then asked what I meant. I told her since they have been lovers for years, there was no reason why I couldn’t share in that love too.

She gasped, and then in a frantic voice asked, “How did you know?”

“I may have been a male,” I replied, “but I’m not blind. Besides the kisses that Jennifer has given me are so erotic that there had to be something else involved here other than just a working relationship. It is not wrong for two who love each other so much to show that love to the other partner.”

“I know you haven’t done anything other than kiss and hug, but I want to join in on the fun too. I have a pussy and breasts too, so I can participate on an equal basis.”

She tried to stumble through an excuse, but I told her to shush and move over in the bed, I would go get Jennifer. I slipped on her peignoir; I had no idea why, then made my way to her room. I knocked then entered, walked over to her bed, flung back the covers, grabbed her hand and pulled her up and back to our bedroom. As we entered the room, Suzanne was still making excuses. I told Jennifer she had this side of the bed, but I got to be in the center. I laid the peignoir at the foot of the bed and crawled in next to Suzanne; Jennifer is still standing there smiling, but not knowing what to do.

I patted the bed next to me, asking her if she had any trouble making it a threesome. She squirmed next to me kissing me hard on the lips and simultaneously reaching for one of Suzanne’s breasts. From Suzanne’s sharp intake of breath apparently, Jennifer had found the treasure. I, meanwhile, was trying to fend off an attack being waged by her tongue on my mouth. I was losing but was quite happy in doing so.

Several mutually beneficial moments later we laid on the bed trying to regain some breath, all of us panting like we had run a marathon. Jennifer was the first to recover, laying on her side running her fingers around my nipple making me crazy. She told Suzanne that having that vagina glued on me was the wisest thing they had done.

“Three females always beats a pair,” she giggled, “especially tonight!”

We all played with each other’s different erotic orifices, and three hours later we finally succumbed to sleep.

I am glad we didn’t have to be to the office until later in the day; we would have never made it. The shoot scheduled had been postponed to allow the shipment to get here. When we did arrive, lots of phone calls about the last shoot kept Jennifer and Suzanne busy for over an hour.

I found the computer with all of my pictures on it and set it up for a slide show. I sat on the sofa watching the pictures flash across the screen, trying to figure out what the attraction was with me. The look was feminine, but I am sure lots of models can present a feminine image for the camera. About halfway through yesterday’s shoot I finally figured it out. Like Andre Pejic I was feminine, but my look added to the clothes, not took away from them. Anybody could see that I was female, but my looks didn’t seize the camera. They saw a pretty face and the gorgeous clothes, not just the model.

I would imagine with makeup it would be the same, instead of just a gorgeous woman, the makeup could take front and center as it was displayed on my face. Enhancing my beauty was always the intent of the makeup company. Jennifer was awed that I had figured it out for myself. Both she and Suzanne were aware of it; they just didn’t acknowledge it very often. The day’s task was to let the experts at the salon practice with the new makeup on my face so they would be ready for the makeup shoot in two days’ time. I still had another day of modeling the fall line of clothes for the same designer as two days before; it was the spring line we had just completed.

The stylists worked for four hours making me beautiful, but at a painful cost. I could swear that my skin was so raw and rough that I could smooth boards with it. When they did finish with me for the day, I was treated to a soothing mask and moisturizer that helped soothe the raw flesh. We road home together a little after six. Even though we had a late start, it was still a long day. As we entered the house, I asked Jennifer when she was going to move in. Both she and Suzanne stared at me, not knowing what to say.

I told them I had no problem sharing my love with both of them if they would have me. I suggested we got a king size bed, the queen size was a little too cozy. Suzanne came over, grabbed both sides of my face, and kissed me passionately. I was asked if I am sure about this, I grabbed Jennifer and kissed her in a similar manner, then looked at both of them.

“Yes, you both will do.” I was pelted with pillows for several minutes till I gave up, surrendering to a superior force.

For that comment, I was made to do my daily beauty regimen by myself, a task that took over thirty minutes for me to accomplish. The worst was brushing my hair; a hundred strokes really takes it out of you. Suzanne made sure that I did the moisturizer and did not miss any areas since a lot of my contract work was for a makeup company now.

I was a little subdued that night; my face was sore, the cream helping but I still had that feeling of raw skin. We decided to head to bed early and they sandwiched me in the middle, both of them playing with my nipples and kissing my breasts. I tried to get to sleep, but the sensations coming from my breasts were not helping at all. I guess I finally fell asleep, at least I didn’t remember anything else that night. I had to make a restroom trip later and had to extricate myself from between both of them. When I returned later, I tried to move Jennifer to the middle, but she held on for all she is worth. I ended up having to crawl over her and resume the position I had before I left.

She turned towards me and smiled and took my nipple in her mouth and tried to deep throat it. The sound of her sucking woke Suzanne, and she started on the other nipple. I just gave up and lay there trying to think pure thoughts. I drifted off again, but I was sure I would have to cover the dark spots under my eyes with makeup because of lack of sleep. Suzanne’s answer later when I complained was they would put me in a sleep mask.

“That is a totally inadequate solution to the problem,” I groaned.

Dressed in casual clothes, we finally made it to the studio for the remaining photo shoot for the fall line. As soon as I got to the door of the studio I was grabbed and makeup applied, then hair, all curls and in an up do for today. First were the evening clothes. Some of the clothes were a little risqué, my breasts hardly covered and supported by the designs being modeled, since no bra was used. On more than one occasion I had on no lingerie at all for the particular dress modeled. About fifty costume changes later we took a break, then started on the business wear in the afternoon.

At that break Jennifer warned me that my breasts would have to be modified. Forms, even though seams were covered, were not good enough for most of the revealing pictures or swimsuits. I would get a pair of my own, although they could be removed later if necessary. That did register in my mind, but serious thought about it would have to wait for another time.

A break usually meant a bottle of water and some type of nutrition bar. Sometimes I got to sit for a while munching my bar, but often it was while my hair was being fixed differently and then right back to work. When I mouthed off to Suzanne, I really had the wrong idea of a models’ life. Now I was paying for my remarks with serious interest.

It was a few minutes after seven when they snapped the last picture. Totally exhausted, I made my way up to Suzanne’s office. I didn’t even knock, I just walked in and went straight to the couch, slipped off my heels and lay back. I muttered that they could bring my dinner to me anytime, this was as far as I am going till I get fed. Jennifer was there, along with Suzanne still talking on the phone, apparently about me again.

I apparently dozed off, Jennifer waking me later so we could head home. I asked her what I had for dinner, and if I enjoyed it. She just giggled and told me they would pick up some takeout on the way home. Suzanne hung up the phone, then told us we had to get going before her phone rang again. I had to put the blasted heels back on, as without them I couldn’t function.

We did stop to get some Mexican food, but I don’t remember what we ordered. I felt so tired but still starved to death. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted sleep or nourishment first. We made it home, and I was sent to the bathroom to change while they set the table and put out the food. Suzanne had to eventually come and get me; I was sitting on the toilet with my head against the wall sleeping soundly. I was dragged to the dining room, propped up in a chair and a plate of food placed in front of me, tacos big enough to nearly cover my plate. I had to think about it for a minute or two before I managed to take the first bite.

It was so good, the taco sauce oozing out of the end of the taco, running down my chin to my neck. I remember eating the one taco and part of another then nothing, I was later told that I actually fell asleep dropping the unfinished taco back on my plate. I remember eating a little then the next thing I recall is them helping me to bed.

Somebody brushed my hair for me; no way could I have accomplished it that night. I don’t remember the cleaning off of my makeup, though. It could have been me, although with my memory non-existent I doubt it was me, probably one of the girls. I had to go to the bathroom once that night, I remember getting out of bed and having to crawl over someone, but nothing more. It was bright in the bedroom, signifying that I had slept through the morning hours.

I crawled out of bed, then staggered to the bathroom. Good thing I decided that the trip was necessary, since I swear I sat there for ten minutes before I was finally through and able to wipe myself. That was also something I feared I would never get used to - wiping myself after using the bathroom.

Back in the bedroom I found a robe to slip on, my bedmates were nowhere to be seen, so I proceeded to the kitchen. There I found Jennifer drinking some Orange Juice and smiling at me.

“The princess has awoken, now we can get started on the day.”

I retrieved a glass for myself and plopped down in the chair next to her. In a whisper, I asked if I had to model again today, she hesitated but decided to tell me the truth instead of a twisted fabrication to make me cringe.

“No, you did well, a visit to the salon to correct some deficiencies is necessary, but other than that a relaxing day is in store.”

I could feel my shoulders relaxing, now that I knew that I wouldn’t be working. The makeup shoot had been also been postponed since yesterday’s schedule ran so long.

I finished my juice, and an apple then headed to get dressed. Since Jennifer told me to dress casually I pulled on some sweats, of course heels, and then a short jacket as it was a little cool outside. She went with me to the salon then talked with my technician. After the conference I was escorted to a treatment room, while Jennifer headed elsewhere.

I was asked to disrobe completely then helped into a dentist type chair. I was to keep my hands on the armrests and my feet in the stirrups provided. Sarah, my tech today removed my breast forms, then cleaned the chest thoroughly. Next she brought in a large machine with two cups hanging down from hoses attached to the machine. Each cup was situated above my nipples then glued to the chest with a medical adhesive. Hoses reattached and the machine was turned on. Immediately the cups sucked on my chest, with loose skin and tissue being drawn into the forms.

She left me to contemplate the impending changes to my body, I knew this change would be significant, not like some of the others. Breasts sucked from the body just don’t go away or be easily reversed. My breast forms had been removed in about twenty minutes, I am sure these babies would not be so easy to get rid of.

I was not so sure of my feelings on having breasts for real. I had almost got used to having something attached to my chest, significant enough to be noticed by all, but 24/7 is another matter. Unfortunately with the machine sucking them out of me, that was about all I could focus on. It switched from a steady sucking to a pulsating beat that was even more impossible to ignore. Sarah checked on me regularly during the process; the last time she entered she had a handful of other items with her.

She added a strap to each of my ankles, telling me she was going to work on my neither regions so it will be necessary to spread my feet wide to be able to do her work. I nodded my head, accepting my fate for the day. This was not what I pictured in my mind that morning when Jennifer told me I could relax for the day. Just because I was on my back did not necessarily mean I was relaxing. My legs were spread wide - anymore and she probably could have made a wish.

Sarah continued getting things ready as she laid out what was soon to be used next. From a distance I couldn’t see what was there. Then to my surprise she removed my false vagina and thoroughly cleaned the area. Not just once but three times. I smelled the antiseptic used, a fairly strong solution apparently. Then in walked my wife, wanting to know if she was on time. I turned red, legs spread wide, the machine sucking breasts out of my former male body and unable to cover anything up.

I received a passionate kiss from her, then as she pulled back there stood Jennifer with a shit eating grin on her face. Sarah excused herself, handing Suzanne a container as she left. It was long, clear glass, and had markings up the side of the glass.

“Well, it seems you have got yourself in a difficult predicament here. Since we are packing junior away for a while, Jennifer and I have decided we might want a child from you. That requires something of yours. We could have done this the conventional way, but this sounded like a lot more fun for us. We are going to fill this container to the top, with your cooperation or not. Now take a big breath and no screaming or we will have to gag you.”

Suzanne started pumping my male organ, she had some cream on her hand to aid in reducing any friction. Jennifer meanwhile was assaulting my mouth while her hands were busy with my ears. Instantly, my body betrayed me rising up to the assault. Then Jennifer turned off the pump on my breasts and resumed her ministrations on my face. I tried to keep quiet, but it was becoming very difficult.

They both knew how to arouse me, so that was not an issue anymore. I was squirming in the chair, my mouth open at least when Jennifer’s tongue was not in it, trying to twist and escape her actions down below. I didn’t think I could stand much more, but wanted to deny them the pleasure of making me cum. This was wrong, their significant other subjected to their wishes without his consent - or was that her consent?

Several times I move my hands off the armrest to try and stop the proceedings; both time my hands were swatted and firmly put back on the armrest. I gave in and kept them there, holding tightly on the armrest to help with the sensations affecting my body.

I started moaning and Jennifer switched back on the pump; at the same time Suzanne did a couple of quick strokes on my organ. I arched my back as high as I could, the restraints the only thing keeping me in the chair. Suzanne moved the glass vial to the tip of my penis and the white creamy liquid started filling the glass. She helped it along with another stroke here or there, while Jennifer continued manipulating any feature on my face she could reach.

Suzanne held up the container, now nearly half full.

“Let’s switch positions,” she said to Jennifer. “I’ll see what I can do to arouse the girl and you see how much we can get out of her. I want the container full up to the brim, enough for both of us to get pregnant. Can you picture Heather nursing two babies, in between her modeling jobs?”

I had been quiet during all of this, lots of moaning but no words spoken.

“Wait a minute here - kids, me nursing them… don’t I get a say in this?”

Both of them looked me right in the eye.

“Nope,” Suzanne replied. “We want a baby but are too busy running the agency to nurse our children. However, a certain model could handle those duties in between her photo shoots. If we have to carry them to term, at least you can nurse them, feed them, and change the diapers.”

I had my mouth open again to complain when Suzanne pushed a gag in it. It didn’t have a strap to hold it in but the size of the object meant that once it slipped behind my teeth it would take quite a bit to remove it. My tongue had no success at pushing it out.

They resumed my milking, giggling, kissing, stroking, generally having a great time at my expense. Jennifer was in charge of my male organ, her enthusiasm in stroking had me ejaculating in no time. The container was now full, smiles on both of them as Sarah re-entered the room to conclude her task. The girls kissed me, groping me wherever possible and skipped out of the room, after removing my gag. Sarah cleansed my groin again; junior was now to be packed away, his day of fame over. I was still recovering from the attack, but knew that my days as a male of the species were gone, most likely forever.

Although they had fun, gathering my seed for future use, I lay back basking in the pleasant feelings. I had enjoyed the episode and somehow the idea of nursing our babies sounded like fun, something I would be thrilled to do. Taking care of them, holding them, loving them seemed a delight I couldn’t wait to experience. Both of the girls mean so much to me, so to share in raising a child together would be the ultimate experience.

I could dream of returning to the male sex but realistically I didn’t think it would happen, too many changes and my change of attitude making it highly unlikely. Living as a female was not that bad; maybe if I didn’t pass it would be different, but even in the camera’s lenses all that is seen is one hundred percent female. Then there were the girls and our relationship - it couldn’t get much better.

Sarah carefully packed my little guy away, this time glued securely to the space between my legs. A more realistic vulva was positioned above it with the end of my little guy glued into the end of the vagina. That would allow me to pee and also participate in regular sex. The outside of the new appliance was very realistic, looking exactly like real skin although no pubic hair was to be seen. After all the parts were situated the covering was secured to my groin, the ‘sex change’ now final. I had now the exact same equipment as Jennifer and Suzanne, just the most recent and updated version.

The vacuum pump had been doing its job as I was converted to the fairer sex, the cups now full to the brim. She turned off the pump, detached the hoses but left the cups on my new breasts, the vacuum still keeping the flesh against the edge of the form. I noticed the weight immediately as I tried to sit up.

The forms before had a little weight but not like these, then another epiphany made itself known. These breasts were mine, not a form, or padding but a part of me, the size of them larger than what I had on earlier. I wonder if one of the girls had a hand in selecting the size of my boobies. Sarah did her thing, while I was very quiet, just trying to figure out if I was okay with this. Too late to prevent it, but accepting it was still up for discussion.

Then Sarah manipulated the forms a little, the cups would dissolve in a couple of days although they were already less rigid then when they were glued on. I took in a deep breath, then tried to stop breathing so they would lay still. Fortunately my hands were free so I quickly put a hand on each in an effort to calm them down. They were warm to the touch, I should have expected that since they are a part of me, but the connection had not been forged in my brain yet.

I did get a bra to wear, a most welcome piece of clothing. It was lacy and delicate, not the heavier functional type. She made me put it on myself; although I had put them on when I had the breast forms this was a little different. I could feel everything, the feelings so much more intense as the fabric of the cups cradled each breast. I shudder to think what one of the girls will be able to do to me, since the feelings are so ramped up now.

I hoped that was it for me; it had been quite a day, not as relaxing as Jennifer implied earlier but I had made it through in one piece - just a better and more improved model. Sarah handed me the blouse and as I put it on I noticed that I now filled out all of the space in the blouse. My new enhanced figure was a perfect fit.

Jennifer strolled in, took one look at me and attacked. I managed to keep it to a hug, but it was all I could do. Immediately I was dragged to the car for the ride to the office, her glancing my way more than once during the trip. When we entered the office Suzanne looked up quickly and she headed my way, her phone in her hand.

Suzanne came rushing over to me and attacked me kissing me on the lips hard and with tongue. I attempted to get a breath but she held the lip lock tightly with both of her hands on either side of my face keeping me focused on the kiss. I tried to get loose as I was having a hard time breathing, but she maintained her attack on my mouth. Finally, she relented and I was able to take in a big breath.

Suzanne addressed both of us.

“Heather now has three contracts, one with clothing, one with makeup and the third I just closed the deal on is with jewelry. All are exclusive, no other companies can use her in any promotion in those areas including using her name. The best part is all three contracts are long term; the shortest is five years. You no longer need your business, we can live off the fees that I get from your contracts alone. You are rich beyond your wildest imagination.”

She stopped talking but I was not let off as her lips met mine. A more sensuous kiss I have never shared in. Her tongue was in my mouth, not missing any spots or hidden crevices.

I was excited until I had a chance to think about this for a while. I had just traded my life as a male to one as a female, long term to boot. I presume Suzanne still loved me - I had never had any trysts with any others. I knew about Suzanne’s and Jennifer’s love for each other for quite some time, but I didn’t consider that anything but two BFFs hugging and kissing together. For one thing, the amount of hours they put in at work wouldn’t leave much time for messing around.

The last two nights with Jennifer in bed with us had been wonderful, kissing, nipple play, bringing each other off with our mouths or hands, it couldn’t get much better. I for one would not have proceeded if any regular male/female sex was considered. Suzanne and I have seldom done it over the years, happy to use our other assets to make each other happy. Now with my male organ locked away that is not a possibility anyway.

With Jennifer, I loved her, treasured her, but not in the way of regular sex. I think it safe to say that Suzanne and I considered regular sex a prequel to having a child, not for sexual satisfaction. The number of alternatives that we had found and used were more than enough to keep us quite happy sexually. Now that would have to be the norm.

When finally released, I pulled back to look over at Jennifer. She was staring at the floor, a tear or two gently sliding down her cheek. I turned away from Suzanne and pulled Jennifer up to me. I lifted her chin wiping the tear from her face and leaned in to kiss her. I made it as passionate as possible, taking my time and exploring every facet of her mouth. I did it gently, my tongue swirling around investigating every nuance of her lips and mouth then I slowly pulled back and looked directly into her eyes.

“We’re rich,” I said. “Not just me, but all three of us. I want to spend my remaining years with my two BFFs - to love, cherish, and enjoy life with them. You, Jennifer, are part of this threesome, so accept it and let’s move on”
I looked directly at Suzanne then grabbed her arm and placed her in front of Jennifer.

“Now, my dear, you seem to be behind in your romantic duties, so let’s get with it.”

Suzanne made up for her faux-pas, the kiss she initiated lasting for quite some time. Now I was the one jealous; I pouted and stomped my foot, both of them grabbing a hand and leading me to the couch, giggling like schoolgirls.

We made our way home, deciding to get chips and dips and pig out, even if it was not good for our figures. Needless to say, we spent the rest of the evening kissing and enjoying ourselves in a most romantic way.

Afterwards we each fell asleep; romantic trysts can be so draining. I was up first, so of course I had to crawl over one of them to get to the floor and eventually the bathroom. I performed my womanly duties, then cleaned my face and made my way to the kitchen. I looked for something to make for breakfast, but found nothing. If I was rich now, I figured one of our first hires was going to be a cook.

I didn’t mind housework, cleaning up after myself was never a problem, but to come home from a day working, even if it is modeling and have to cook - that is just so wrong. I sat there thinking about the last few days, my stupid remark left out of the equation. I was tired at the end of the day, but I had enjoyed the interaction and of course the clothes. Now to be able to do that with makeup and soon jewelry would just add to the pleasure. Add in my new figure and I was a female and proud of it. What a change from my idiotic statement that started all of this.

I thought back to some of the pictures that had been taken of me, the dress or outfit so pretty and the look reflecting back from the screen showing contentment of the model. I was happy, doing something I enjoyed and something I was apparently good at. I still couldn’t see the attraction I was sure a lot of other models would look just as good in the clothes as I did, but glad that I was chosen to do the modeling instead of them.

As my two lovers made it to the kitchen, I notified them of the need to hire a cook, and since there was nothing to eat in the house we would be eating out that morning. Making love made me hungry so they better turn around and head back to get dressed or I was going to leave them here. Jennifer and Susanne reminded me that wearing a nightgown isn’t going to get me served at a restaurant, so I should heed my own advice.

They dragged me along, each taking advantage of the flimsy material over my nipples. It was all I could do not to lay on the bed and spread my legs for more loving. My butt got swatted a couple of times, to hurry up, but it only made me feel more sexy.

Suzanne handed me some clothes to put on, a cute sundress with a big flouncy skirt. I stopped for a minute - I had just called the sundress cute. I had been totally reprogrammed now, first being a model to show me what it was like and now femaleness had over taken my mind.

Love, lots of hugs, and three people caring for each other - it couldn’t get any better.

It was not the End, but a New Beginning, plus the clothes are so cute.

For these and my other stories please visit turnaboutgurl.com

My thanks to Santacruzman for ideas, editing help, and moral support.
I have elected to have comments disabled. If you need to make a comment, correction, or communicate with me either PM me or email me at [email protected]

© 2016, 2017, 2018 Fran Cesca Walker



If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos!
Click the Thumbs Up! button below to leave the author a kudos:
up
82 users have voted.

And please, remember to comment, too! Thanks. 
This story is 30845 words long.