92 lines
4.8 KiB
Plaintext
92 lines
4.8 KiB
Plaintext
II.
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Bobbie stood up too quickly. "Shit! I did it again!" Annoyed, he tugged
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and pulled his rubber girdle back down. Sheila hadn't been kidding at the
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treasure trove of dated clothes stored away in her attic and Bobbie was
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being introduced to Fifties fashions with a vengeance.
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Bobbie's first encounter had been with the dreaded thick rubber girdle.
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Hot, sweaty and confining, he found his hips molded into too smooth,
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ultra-feminine curves. The wide waist band forcefully compressed his middle,
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only to add emphasis to his now outrageously matronesque rear. Where were
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his sleek hips?
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Girdles have garter tabs and garter tabs hold up hosiery. Sheila had
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found lots of carefully rolled hose, each pair in a separate satin bag -
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seamed hose, patterned hose, fishnet hose, in a dozen shades and in a variety
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of lengths. Bobbie had been used to the drill of working pantyhose up his
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legs. Somehow it was different, more demeaning to be going through all the
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complicated rituals of old-fashioned hosiery. First, there was the rolling
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the stocking up the leg, careful to keep the pattern or seam straight. Next,
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Bobbie had to fit and adjust each garter, while he wondered why there were so
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many of the damn things, to ensure that his stockings were well-fitted and
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taut.
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Indeed, the very pull of his taut garter straps, passed under his lace
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and satin panties, was a distracting reminder of his new-found, dated
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femininity. Feeling his garters tug with his every step, Bobbie couldn't
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ignore how different his crossdressing had become, how uncomfortable, how
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old-fashioned and how humiliating.
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Sheila had insisted on long-line bras, waist-cinches, corsets and the
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like. They crushed Bobbie's waist still more and pushed his immature,
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masculine breasts into high hard cones. The way the straps of his bra pulled
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his shoulders back, the way his girdle hampered his steps, Bobbie was being
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molded away from his personal ideal of an elegant, leggy modern fashion model
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into an hour-glass Fifties glamour queen.
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Today, he was wearing a black satin sheath. It had a high neckline and
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long sleeves. His hem line was below the knee but the dress was absolutely
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skin-tight. Every step was a planned event.
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'Babs, get in here!"
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Sheila was a bitch as a boss. The last time Bobbie had stood up to her,
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Sheila had left him standing outside, dressed only in a girdle, heels and
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handcuffs. His pale, flaccid member had dangled ridiculously, ribboned in
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pink. Sheila had made Bobbie beg like a dog to get back in. Ever since then,
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Sheila had called Bobbie "Babs", her pet name for her totally tamed sissy.
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"Well, Babs baby, here's a chance to strut your stuff. The lawyers just
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called and said that the other side wants to take a deposition from you. As
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I understand it, we have to meet the other side's lawyers and let them ask
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you questions."
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"Now, I know how much you dazzled our former landlord with your sexy
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ways, so I want you to knock yourself out, just look your absolute drop-dead
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best for this. In fact, I've been up in the attic and did a little searching
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around."
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"I found the perfect outfit for you and something really exciting. I
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found some old makeup, still all sealed so I think it's okay. And some hair
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stuff too. So, we'll just make a beauty parlor time of it, all to help you
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make the right impression."
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Sheila smiled evilly and waited for the humiliated male to reply.
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Bobbie, stammering, began, hoping that Sheila was only joking.
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"Really, Boss, do we need to do all that? After all, pretty soon, we'll
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win the lawsuit, the print shop can open and I can pay you back. If we change
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my hair to much and things, it will take a long time for me to get back to a
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masculine look."
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"Frankly, Babs, I don't know when this court case is going to end. In
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the meantime, I see no reason why you shouldn't enjoy all the wonderful
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things living as a woman entitle you to do. Like changing your hair style,
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or giving yourself a totally new look."
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"And by the way, the deli dropped off your lunch." Bobbie minced back
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to his desk. The receptionist had run Bobbie's lunch up while he had been
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in with Sheila. Double milk shake, two jumbo orders of cheese fries - extra
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cheese, fried chicken. Everything was fattening. Bobbie looked in the mirror,
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turned and looked at his rear. He was getting fat and Sheila seemed to like
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him that way. After all, she always ordered his meals for him.
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No sooner had Bobbie finished eating than Sheila handed Babs/Bobbie his
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purse and dragged him out the door.
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"I think I might just whip you off to the beauty salon now. Let's have
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a professional do you up. I bet they can do miracles with you." Beaten again,
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Bobbie trailed along.
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