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Message-ID: <28987asstr$982815004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} NEW TG: Perfect by Vickie Tern 4/10 M/F F/m femdom
Date: Wed, 21 Feb 2001 23:10:04 -0500
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NEW TG: Perfect by Vickie Tern 4/10 M/F F/m femdom


This kind of story shouldn't be read by anyone who shouldn't read 
this kind of story.  No exceptions!

(c) 2001 by Vickie Tern.  May be copied to any free archive.  All comment
welcome (VickieTern@aol.com).


                               iv.

Even though it was still early morning of a business day, the
beauty salon was already filled with women of all sorts and ages,
sitting and lying in chairs and getting brushed, combed, curled,
rollered, blow-dried, waxed, manicured, clipped, wrapped, massaged,
and sprayed.  All the work stations were filled with other women at
work or else standing and chatting.  The female energy filling the
air was palpable, overwhelming, intimidating.  For a moment I felt
genuine fear!  

Oddly, no one paid me the slightest attention -- could Connie and
Meg be correct that my face and temperament already read "female,"
and that my voice confirmed any doubts?

We were ushered past crowds of waiting women and I was seated
immediately in one of the purple leather lounging chairs enthroned
in each work station.  Meg spoke to the attendant who was already
studying me.  "Dana, this is Allie!" she said.  "Gayle says go
ahead the way we discussed it."

"Fine!" Dana replied.  Her name tag also read "Dana," I noted
stupidly.  I was out of it.  The women were in charge.  "Complete
make-over, once over everything, but lightly.  So she'll be
reminded she's a girl even when she's fresh from a shower.  But
discreetly, nothing really shouted out loud!"    

Reminded that I'm a girl?  'She'?  Shout what?  "That's exactly
right," Meg replied.  "Allie, you'll be most of the morning here. 
Don't worry, we'll cover for you at the office.  Come back when
you're done, and we'll all three celebrate the new you with
champagne!"

"What do you mean, the new me?" I replied, fear rising in my belly.

"Oh, that's a lovely voice, Allie," Dana said, sincerely surprised
and impressed, but also trying to calm me.  I was obviously
disturbed.  Not that it mattered.  If one not-quite-man misbehaved
in a salon crowded to capacity with women, who'd notice?  

I gave Dana a quick, scant "Thank you, that's sweet of you to say
so, Dana!" but otherwise paid her no attention.  "What new me?" I
repeated to Meg, a little more loudly, tense.

"The you who'll know more about looking beautiful than any of the
high school girls you talk to.  If you get too worried, just
remember that Gayle will love you for this!  She's wanted this for
you for a long time.  Even before you moved in with her, if you
must know!  And I know even if you don't that deep down under
you'll love it too!  Ta ta!"  

And with a triumphant smile Meg turned away, her hand high in the
air, rotating it at the wrist in farewell!

I've got to admit it, they did do everything but didn't overdo
anything.  My hair was razor trimmed and then permed lightly for
body, lightened, and then blow-dried into a fluffy layered style
that barely covered my ear lobes.  Bangs fell curving over my
forehead, so my unusually small face -- for a man -- looked
positively diminutive.  When I tried brushing them back they fell
forward again, trained to stay there.  It was conceivably a man's
style, but it looked distinctly feminine.  

My body was hairless.  I'd been taken in back and waxed and
stripped painfully, and every inch of me was now bare and smooth,
though clothes covered the fact everywhere but on the exposed backs
of my hands.  Dana handed me a schedule for the further
electrolysis of my thin beard, three times weekly.  My nails were
now longer and manicured pink, almost their natural color but more
uniformly, richly luminous and glistening.  Anyone looking would
know they were a woman's hands, though anyone glancing might not
notice.  

My eyebrows were -- as one of the operators said -- neatened. 
Trimmed, thinned, and arched, plucked but not quite as hairless as
many women's.  No longer a man's, even so.  A foundation creme
coated my face and smoothed away every blemish and covered what
little beard I had, flawlessly, and Dana showed me how to make it
resemble natural skin again with just a brushfull of face powder
and some wisps of blended blush.  I'd gotten both ears pierced on
a dare in college -- they found the holes and re-opened them with
teeny gold rings that were now glinting in my earlobes.  

"See?" said Dana as I examined my mirrored image.  "You can still
swing either way, hon.  Except for your eyes.  We went all out
there with your company's products.  The eyes have it all!  They're
unambiguous!"  

It was true. I checked the mirror.  I now looked like either an
incredibly effeminate man or a really cute girl, depending on my
body English.  Except for my eyes.  My eyes were now exquisitely
made up, deeply feminine, outlined and widened, my lashes extended
and thickened into dense fringes and my lids and browbones shadowed
with blended shades of eyeshadow, a streak of white just under my
eyebrows.  The rest of me could be called "cute" as a man or as a
woman, maybe.  But my eyes changed everything.  Those deep,
glamorous orbs were unmistakably feminine.  They looked as big
proportional to my face as a little girl's, downright attractive,
innocent yet seductive.  Even though I was shocked to see how I
looked, I had to admire what Dana had done.  I felt a strange,
delicious apprehension!  I'd entered a new world.

"That's the secret, Allie.  Eyes.  You tell the girls you talk to
to tell the girls they talk to.  Play with your eye make-up all you
want and the rest will follow.  A new sleek, smart you, with a
romantic mystery men will always notice whenever you pass by. 
You'll get all the admiration any girl could crave."  

Men?  Listening to her, I was appalled.  Excited, but terribly
fearful.  Something important had somehow slipped from my grasp! 
Something else had replaced it.  As I studied my reflection in the
mirror, I reached up to tuck a stray hair back into place in my
coiffure.  I saw myself do it!

"Your lipstick is rose beige, incidentally, perfectly appropriate
for most occasions and not necessarily noticeable.  But go darker
at night, especially for any long-gown evening affairs."  

I hadn't noticed, but it was so.  In the perfection of my face, my
lips were now also perfect.  Rosebuds like Gayle's, smooth, even in
tone, almost but not quite their natural shade.  I was almost still
a man.  As I stood up, I didn't know what to think.  Dana refused
payment.  "It's on the company tab, taken care of," she said. 
"Just as you are, honey.  Remember your electrolysis appointments,
now."

I walked warily back to the office, avoiding all eye contact with
everybody but watching for signs that some people recognized how
ridiculous I was.  A few women smiled at me understandingly, as
women do other women in passing, and a man stared in open
admiration as I passed him by.  I felt a little reassured.  I
wasn't freakish after all.  

Back at the office the girls took one look and screamed joyously,
and hugged me, and in their exuberance tried to dance with me. 
They'd ordered in a pizza, and now they poured champagne into
plastic champagne flutes.  "To our lovely Allie!  To her long and
happy life!

I wasn't too happy with that "her."  "In the lobby, a man held a
door open for me," I said worriedly.  "And in the elevator another
man tipped his hat."   I was still trying to get used to this idea. 
What had I done?  Why had I let them do this to me?  Was it that
bad?  

It didn't feel that bad at all.  It already felt the way my voice
sounded to me, perfectly natural.

Both Meg and Connie looked at me with amused understanding. 
"That'll happen a lot from now on, looking the way you look,
Allie," Connie said.  "You should see your expression!  Pretty but
dazed, with such a fetching air of vulnerabilty!  Men'll get stiff
and maybe even cum in their pants when you walk by!  Have a glass
of this bubbly stuff and sit quite still so we can all get used to
looking at you.  Here, set this mirror up on your desk, so you can
look yourself over any time.  I'd say Allie's now quite pretty,
wouldn't you, Meg?"

"I'd say so," Meg said.  "Dana did some marvelous things with your
face, honey!  Study them.  Those're the secrets your associates
will be glad to hear about. Every day try to match them to the
colors of different blouses and dresses."

"Wait a minute, ladies," I said as gallantly as I could.  I felt
very strange.  I knew how I looked.  I was embarrassed, excited,
but also calm.  My voice, as I listened to it, had a peculiarly
wistful quality.  "No one said anything about blouses or dresses. 
This is all so I can learn the uses of our products at first hand. 
And that's all it is.  It all begins and ends at the office!"

"Honey," Meg said with a pleased glance at Connie.  "Not your own
blouses and dresses!  Not yet, anyhow.  That's what you'll tell the
associates to tell their customers.  Wherever did you get the idea
I meant you?  Though how you'll make yourself up each morning
without reference to whatever the color scheme you're wearing that
day escapes me.  Your men's clothes are all a drab monochrome, I've
noticed!  We'll have to speak to Gayle about this."  

"Well, one thing I know, I said.  "I take my face off here when I
go home and I put it on here when I arrive.  That's all I agreed to
do!  There's cold cream in the ladies room for taking it off.  I
know that from when you brought it out that time I was on the phone
with the associate who thought it was greasy, so I could reassure
her it wasn't."

"Oh?  Connie, should we allow Allie access to the ladies' room?"
Meg asked.  "Should she know all our little secrets?  Can she use
the tampon dispenser now when she needs to?"

"I think we'll have to let her," Connie replied gravely.  They were
now each finishing their second filled flute of champagne, and I
must confess it, by now so was I.  "We can't ask her to use the
men's room any more.  Think how anyone with a dick hanging in his
pants would have to behave, seeing her there.  Could he even pee
through it?  One look and it'd point straight up at the ceiling!" 
The two of them giggled.

Then seriously, Meg looked at me.  "Allie, you can take your face
off before you go home if you feel you must.  Until you develop
enough pride in the way you look now to be the way you want to look
always.  But not today!  Today Gayle wants to see you at your best. 
"

That was true.  I remembered her last words to me -- "I can't wait
to see!"

"Don't worry," Connie consoled me.  "There's no way you'll be
embarrassed on your way home.  No one would dream you were ever a
man!  Did you have any problems walking back from the salon?"

"No," I said, realizing for the first time that I hadn't.  "Two
women smiled at me.  That never happened when I was a man.  When I
looked like a man, I mean."

"I heard you the first time, Allie honey," Connie said.  "I'll
phone Gayle and tell her what to expect."  She stood and weaved
over to her desk.  "There's still a little more champagne in the
bottle," she said to Meg.  "I think it's Allie's.  She's earned
it."   

"Yes, she has," Meg said.  She smiled at me more warmly than any
time since I'd known her.  

"'He' has," I responded, one last effort.  Meg didn't seem to hear.

"Here you are, Allie."  She handed it to me, and she lifted her own
glass.  "Welcome to the other side!  You'll love it, trust me!"

Welcome to what?  But before I could ask, all three phones started
ringing at once and our afternoon's advisory sessions got under
way.  I told several of the women I spoke to during the next
several hours to stress eye make-up for their clients.  "It's
absolutely transforming," I said with my own face visible in the
mirror Connie had given me.  It certainly was.  

When quitting time came, both of my fellow supervisors were sober
again.  They watched in silence as I walked into the ladies', their
faces impassive.  They looked visibly relieved when I walked out
again with my face unchanged.  They glanced quickly at each other
and then a little hesitantly at me.  Then they broke into laughter
when I grinned broadly at them. 

"Just checking to see what my new accommodation provides," I told
them with a faint smile.  "A lady's entitled to know!  Not a single
urinal!  And why isn't there a condom dispenser alongside the
tampons and sanitary napkins?  And shouldn't we be keeping a full
range of our products on that mirrored counter?  How will I put on
my face tomorrow?  Good night, ladies!"

"Good night, Allie honey," they both chimed.  "You look just great! 
Feel proud!  Walk tall!"

So I walked out into the hallway and headed toward the elevators
with small steps, my feet stepping close to an invisible
centerline, delicately, head high.  Now I had to move like a woman! 
It occurred to me vaguely that I should be carrying a purse.  I
attracted no more attention on the street or the bus back to the
apartment than any other young woman on her way home from work. 
And as I realized this, I began to feel ... authentic.  

When I arrived home, Gayle was already there in the living room,
waiting, enthroned in one of her overstuffed chairs.  I paused in
the middle of the room and struck a model's pose, turned, looked
over my shoulder at her, smiled a wide, inviting smile, then turned
back and looked haughtily out the window, my shoulders twisted one
way, my hips the reverse.  All poses I'd seen in women's clothing
and cosmetics ads.  She looked me up and down expressionlessly,
then suddenly giggled.

"You sweet, sweet thing!" she said.  "Connie phoned.  It's just as
she said!  I see how Dana did do your hair and everything so close
to the line you could still pass as a man, if you were very careful
about it.  Maybe you could.  But I love it that you now feel
feminine enough not to bother.  I love it that you're so sure of
yourself you don't care what others think you are.  I love it that
my boyfriend is now also my girlfriend.  Take those clothes off,
you wonderful girl, you!  Dinner can wait!

In bed she couldn't get over how smooth my hairless body felt.  Her
hands never stopped roaming and stroking and petting and fondling
me, and her mouth moved everywhere over me, her lips and tongue
testing and tasting the new feel of my skin.  "I want this," she
moaned barely audibly.  "Oh I do so want this!"  She seemed near
fainting when I finally moved my face out of her pussy and up to
kiss the hollow of her neck while I inserted myself gently into
her.  She came almost immediately.  And then again lightly but
continually as I languidly stroked in and out of her.  Her hands
cupped my chest and caressed my nipples as if they were full-sized
breasts and teats.  

I decided right then that if I could put up with what people
thought of my voice, I could put up with whatever they thought of
the rest of me.  This was how I looked and this would be how I
looked.  While we were resting between rounds, tasting each other's
lipsticks in soft little nibbles, I told Gayle just that. 
"Mmmmmm!" she said.  "Perfect!  You're such a love!  More!"  She
left me in no doubt what she meant.  In the morning she offered me
use of her make-up, "just to get to the office, where I understand
Connie's assembled what you'll need from now on."  Arrived at the
office looking thoroughly feminine, I found a large cosmetics case
waiting for me on my desk, with "Nite Cremes" and
"Fresh-from-Your-Shower" lotion and other things that left no doubt
they were for home use.  I brought it home and that found Gayle had
bought me a new vanity table and mirror.  "For before you go to
work," she said. "I want you to look  beautiful always." 

Thus much for my plan to wear make-up only at the office.  I
nodded, and said nothing.  I felt pleased, in fact.  If Gayle
wanted it for me, I wanted it.  

It had been a game so far, an amusing game, but Gayle incorporated
my new look into our relationship with the same high good spirits
we both brought to making love to each other.  In a way I was now
a woman to her, but a woman with a wonderful warm dildo attached. 
And that was how I began to think of myself.  We often made
"lesbian" love as she still called it, like two women, all night
long each of us devoted to the other's crotch, no penetration
necessary.  But whatever we did, there was nothing solemn about it. 
It was simply wonderful, fun, joyous, a natural extension of what
we felt for each other.

Each day I played with my hair and my make-up before getting
dressed.  Despite the original plan, each day I left the house
already altogether a woman, fully made-up for the day, sometimes
rather elegantly.  It was easier for me to keep my main array of
cosmetics on my vanity in the bedroom alongside Gayle's, and only
touchups in the ladies' room at the office.  Once over the line, I
didn't mind going further, trying now to look definitive.  I no
longer feared embarrassment, Dana had seen to that.  It was still
a game, but the same game many women play.

Meg and Connie said nothing the next day when I showed up for work
with my face -- and especially my eyes -- unquestionably a woman's. 
In fact, knowing that I was now navigating the streets looking like
a woman, no longer like a man, our luncheon conversations turned
toward issues different from the earlier ones.  Safety precautions
at night, for example.  And how to keep men from hitting on you, as
they did all the time.  And what to do when they did.

"The big question is always, first of all, Allie, do you want him
to?  You always ask yourself that, even if he's intrusive and
annoying, but especially if he looks cute, or handsome, or you hear
he's got a lot of money."  She paused.  "Or you hear he's
well-hung."  That was Meg speaking.  She had considerable
experience with cute or handsome or well-hung men, a different one
each week it sometimes seemed.

"Not me," I said categorically.  "I'm spoken for!"

"Well, sure," Connie replied when the same topic came up the next
day.  "But your ego isn't.  Take that guy over there, you see him,
the one sitting by himself, the brown tweed sports jacket and
tanned face?  The outdoorsman?  Holding his fork like a tennis
racket and his knife like a golf club?  Do you think you could get
him interested in you?  Would it make you feel more like a real
woman if a hunk like him was leaning over you and making his
moves?"

I looked him over, for fun, playing Connie's game.  I could see
what a woman would see in him.  I could even feel the force of it,
a little.  A very little.  But intimacy with any man?  The idea
felt a little repellent.  Still, I enjoyed looking attractive now,
the same way women did who used our products.  It would be nice to
feel that's what I was.  Attractive, I mean.  Well, that I was a
woman too, in a way.  An attractive woman.  It might help me
understand better the appeal of our products to women, if I could
understood better how women use them to appeal to men.  Somehow. 
It was so deliciously confusing!

"Yes, I think so, Connie," I said with a little wonderment in my
voice, still looking at him.  "Would I feel more like a real woman
if he were interested in me?  I think so, Connie!  Isn't that
remarkable!"

"Isn't it, Allie?" she said, now openly amused by my response.  My
honesty.  "That's why we flirt, honey.  It makes us feel good,
whether or not we want the poor wretch we're flirting with to
grovel at our feet.  Mostly, we don't.  Well, maybe Meg does, she
loves men who grovel.  Let's try something though.  Just keep
looking at him.  Sooner or later he'll notice, and when he does,
keep looking at him, straight into his eyes, until he turns away or
breaks off contact.  Don't you look away first, under no
circumstances!  Then when he looks again, be sure he sees you
chatting with me, utterly indifferent to whether he lives or dies. 
Because that'll clinch it."

"Clinch what?" I asked, though I did what she'd suggested.  The man
was two tables away and happened to look up.  At me.  He'd felt
something?  He saw me, and he stared back blankly for just a moment
-- I could see the browser behind his eyes seraching his memory to
see if he knew me.  It came up blank, and he looked away for a
moment.  I kept my eyes on him.

He decided something and stood up.  As I started speaking nonsense
animatedly to Connie, he came over, and actually leaned over me! 
"Pardon me," he said.  "I don't mean to intrude.  But do we know
each other?"

I thought fast.  "I don't think so," I replied.  "But I'm sure I'd
remember if we did."  I smiled up at him.

"Any chance we can get to know each other?" he responded,
encouraged.  "I'm in town only for today, and I'll be gone tomorrow
morning early."

"That would be perfect," I replied -- Gayle's favorite word.  I
kept my eyes looking into his now despite my incredible temptation
to look away as I spoke my next line in this old, old scenario, a
real whopper!  "Except that my husband's in town too, and I hate to
leave him alone with our two kids while I'm out on the town with
another man.  It might give him ideas of his own."

The man grinned a devastating grin!  "I bet it would!  A pity! 
He's a lucky man.  But I hope you don't mind my asking."

"Not at all," I replied.  "Thank you!"

"No, thank you!" he said, and with a sigh he returned to his table.

Connie was beside herself.  Ecstatic!  Unable to repress her mirth! 
"See?" she said.  "Now don't you feel better than you did?  And he
does too, I'll bet!"

"I have to say 'yes,'" I said.  "But because of a man?  I'm damned
if I know why!"

"No, you're 'quite sure' you don't know why, Allie.  Only men are
'damned' in this world, the poor dears."  

I accepted the correction.  "You know something else, Connie," I
said as I reached for my purse alongside my chair -- I now carried
one, even though I was still wearing men's clothes and pockets --
and we both stood up to leave.  "I also feel a little regretful."

Connie's smile broadened.  "Because he's such a nice guy, and you
had to disappoint him?" she asked. 

"That too," I replied.  

At that Connie went into such spasms of laughter that we had to run
across the lobby to the elevator to preserve minimal decency.  Once
inside with the doors shut, she almost choked.  She couldn't stop! 
The rest of that afternoon she couldn't look at me without
spluttering all over again.  It was a while before she could pull
herself together long enough to tell a puzzled Meg why all the
glee.  "Our new girl here actually felt attracted to a man!" she
spluttered.  "A keeper, too!  It's really a pity she had to throw
him back!"  Then she exploded again!  I maintained an aloof dignity
through all of it.

end 4/10
VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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