The Worm Turns Part 2: The Routine

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Beautiful Face

Before I even realized it, we had fallen into a pattern of visits to the sisters’ salon. On a weekly basis, I was having my hair set, my nails done, and my make-up applied expertly by some combination of Kim and/or Kristie. Often one would do the work while the other recorded the proceedings on video or with a digital still camera. Several of the photos made their way onto the mirrors of the salon’s stations. The upshot of this development was that the curiosity of other (female) patrons of the sisters’ often led to orchestrated sessions wherein these women would pay extra to schedule their appointments simultaneous with mine so that they could watch what by now had become quite a show. These sessions all started quite the same: I would show up dressed down but toting the day’s (and evening’s) outfit carefully selected by Melinda. Melinda would drop me off in front of the salon while she drove around to find the nearest parking spot, soon to return with my outfit—always keeping its nature and exact components a secret from me. Meanwhile I would sashay in to the shop wearing perhaps Capri pants, a loose knit top and some high, sporty wedges, selected partially for their open-toe design that showed off my neatly perdicured toes to perfection. And by now, Melinda had me nearly living in the double-D breasts, glued to my chest as they were for weeks at a time. I was not allowed to wear a bit of make-up to the salon, so my appearance—sort of half male and half female—never ceased to draw stares from passers-by while I walked the short distance to the entrance. Upon entering, Kim and Kristie would stop whatever they were doing and greet me as if I were their long lost third sister. Cooing over my outfit or my feigned need for a fill on my nails, they would escort me to my designated chair at the front of the shop. güvenilir bahis Whomever the lucky lady who had been chosen as that week’s spectator would be perched in her own chair, head covered with shiny rollers with a glass of wine in one hand and, typically, her digital camera in the other. While the girls would prep me by tipping me back for a shampoo, my observer would laugh and drink throughout the proceedings, usually calling more than a few of her friends to offer them play-by-play of my transformation. I’m quite sure that photos of my lathered head were among the most photographed and distributed on the internet, perhaps only surpassed by the other, “meatier” stages of my transformation. Eyebrow-waxing, lip liner and lipstick application, and the attachment of false eyelashes also seemed to be popular with my amateur paparazzi. The sessions themselves became more and more involved as I descended farther and farther into the world of femininity. A particular milestone is when the girls determined that my hair wasn’t growing out at a rate that satisfied them. They wanted long hair to play with, and mine just wasn’t coming along fast enough. So when they felt there was sufficient length for extensions to look natural, in they went. Now I had a full head of long, luxurious blond tresses that cascaded down my back. The girls seemed to love the greater opportunities afforded them by the length. Buns, pony- and pigtails, French braids, and up-dos were all in play now. Well as this installment’s name signifies, we all fell into a routine. And since my humiliation was limited to a handful of clients along with their electronically-linked friends, I soon adapted. But on the second Saturday of October this year, as the day dawned unseasonably warm, Melinda seemed equally abnormally “heated up”. I probably güvenilir bahis siteleri should have suspected that something was amiss when instead of the somewhat androgynous appearance with which I normally made the trip to Kim & Kristie’s parlor, Melinda dressed me decidedly more feminine and sexy. In place of the cotton blouse and Capri pants, she laced me into a tight, figure defining corset below which dangled eight garter straps. To them she attached smoky black back-seemed stockings usually reserved for our evenings out or play at home in our custom playroom. Slimmed down to a narrow waste and endowed with ample breasts, the leather one-piece dress that she tossed to me now fit like a glove. Once atop the four-and-a-half inch black, open-toed heels, the hem now just barely covered the lace tops of the stockings, a development that I noted with pride. Despite having been liberally doused with some fine perfume, one thing remained the same as our typical Saturdays: I left the house without a scrap of makeup. I felt at once sexy and clownish. When I asked Melinda what was different about today, she winked and said that the time had come for a more significant step into femininity. Her twisted grin indicated that no more information would be forthcoming and I was left to wonder what was to come. Of course, it would become apparent soon enough what was to come. When we got to the salon, the abnormal availability of parking spots right out front also caught my attention. Something was very different about this day. Melinda parked right in front, reached into the back for the camera and tripod that had by now become standard equipment for these sessions, and we strutted into the salon. The surprises didn’t stop. To my amazement, the salon was totally empty except for Kim and Kristie. My inquiries iddaa siteleri were answered with, “Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetie. Today is a very special day for you and we felt like a little privacy was in order”. “Uh-oh”, I thought. While Melinda erected the camera, Kim busied herself with my shampoo. Especially with the extensions, I thoroughly enjoyed having my hair washed by her. Her strong hands gave me the most incredible scalp massage, relaxing me deeper into the world of women. As I crossed and uncrossed my legs, the exquisite feeling of my stocking-clad legs rubbing against one another was the magic carpet that I rode to the feminine side of my personality, a side that was stronger than I ever would have guessed. Once my hair had been washed and rinsed, Kim tipped me up in the chair and started the now longer job of rolling my hair. The extensions necessitated lager rollers. She sectioned my hair with large chrome clips and diligently and firmly worked on one small section at a time. Soon enough, I had a head of massive, rollers wrapped tightly with my shiny hair. I was always a little surprised at how much darker my hair was when it was wet, and the dark hair on the large purple rollers mesmerizing me. Of course, the stockings meant that I wouldn’t be getting a pedicure this week and my week-old manicure didn’t really need any filling, so as Kristie set to work on my makeup, Kim merely touched up the polish, taking care of the small nicks in my crimson polish. All the while, I was wondering about the girls’ comments about what was to come, and their next direction to me made me believe that it wouldn’t be too much longer before I would learn what they were referring to. Instead of placing me under a dryer, I was escorted back across the shop and placed back in my original chair, directly in front of the camera perched atop the tripod. And rather than pumping the seat higher into the air for whatever ministrations might be next, Kim let all the air out of the large cylinder under me seat and I sank to a very pedestrian height.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32