It would seem that "Lorraine" is getting more than she bargained for… Is this a case of her wildest dreams coming true… or her worst nightmare…?

 

The Catalogue

by Catherine Rose

 

Chapter 9 – No Half Measures

 

While the new day heralded in more modelling of women's clothing, my mother soon made an important distinction very clear to me about how things would run from now on.

"I meant what I said to your father last night," she declared first thing in the morning. "Since you are so obviously keen to be Lorraine, then there will be no half measures. I am going to give you as thorough an education in what it means to be a girl as I possibly can. You will do exactly as I say from now on. If you so much as even moan about any of my instructions, I'll send you straight back to school and in your girl's clothes so that everyone can see what a pathetic excuse for a boy you really are. Your only decision now won't come till next Monday morning. If you still want to remain Lorraine after that, then there will be no going back! Your old clothes will be gone and no one will be re-stocking them."

A shiver went up my spine as it became apparent just how seriously my mother was taking my new apprenticeship. As she marched me into the bathroom and started working some solution into my hair, I was strangely excited at the prospect of my sudden powerlessness in her presence.

"Because a girl's crowning glory is her hair, it requires far more attention than you ever gave it back when you were a boy. As a girl, however, you have far more freedom in its styling and in its colour. So for this week, at least, let's see what you look like as a blonde."

As we went down to the kitchen, the smell of the hair dye under my cap pervaded even over the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. There was something magical to this new olfactory sensation. It signalled my emergence into a New World, one I could only have dreamt of entering previously. I had just crossed into the secret realm of women.

"It's time to rise you hair," mum advised as we finished our coffees. "Take this cream and smooth it on all over your body from your neck down. It will make all your body hair wash off in the shower. That's one of our biggest hassles as women, having to stay hair-free. It only lasts a couple of weeks but if you are still keen on this path after that, I'll introduce you to the joys of waxing next time."

I stood in the shower rinsing the colouring solution from my head and all the hair from around my body, aware of a tingling sensation all over. I revelled in my new smoothness by slowly rubbing my legs against one another. Soap only added to the pleasure. As I dabbed myself dry, I was handed my mother's soft pink embroidered bra and panties from the day before.

"I should have guessed just how much you must enjoy dressing in women's clothes from how expertly you put your bra on that first day," my mother exclaimed. "You obviously have had tons of practice in this. I only wish I had known about your secret desires years ago so that "Lorraine" could have joined us sooner.

"Never mind," she continued with an obvious sparkle in her eyes. "I've got all week to get to know my new daughter. I'm so pleased you want to remain a girl. Even your father is going to love the result by the time I've finished with you. He always seemed awkward about having a son. I'm sure he'd have been happier if you had been born a girl."

Then she handed me the most delightful items I could ever have imagined.

"Seeing you obviously like embroidery so much, let's see what you think of these crocheted items."

I all but trembled from excitement as I slipped on the simple lilac jersey knit singlet with narrow shoulder straps and shaped side seams, followed by the lilac crocheted camisole with three-dimensional floral motifs around the front neckline. I was all but willing to wheel out the rubbish bin with my former boy's clothes in that very moment. I had no intention of ever again returning to my old life of depravation and despair.

The lilac jeans style pants in a summery and cool linen blend fabric were the perfect accompaniment. I briefly admired my new outfit and my newly blonded hair in the mirror scarcely believing my own reflection, before topping it all off with a delicately crocheted cardigan with the same three-dimensional floral motifs around the front neckline of the camisole.

"Come on, Lorraine," mum said sternly. "You've got too much to learn to be resting on your laurels just yet."

With that she sat me down at the makeup table and introduced me to the pleasures of women's cosmetics. Liquid makeup, concealer, powder, eyeshadow, mascara, lipstick, blusher … things I had fumbled with in the past were being expertly applied for me.

"This is one area you are going to have to practise over and over till you can literally do it in your sleep," my mother warned. "This will do for now, but we'll get you removing and reapplying your makeup repeatedly several times a day to help you master it. Whether you choose to live as Kevin or Lorraine you'll know as much about makeup as any girl your age by the end of this week."

By the time my mother finally led me out of the house for a round of shopping, I was not the same person that had woken up that morning.

 

Chapter 10 – Strange Purchases

Having previously gone through with Jill the apprehension of venturing out dressed as a girl, I was quite excited to do it this time with mum. The change in my hair colour and mum's expertise with makeup rendered me unrecognisable, while her clothes selection had me feeling so lovely I couldn't wait to start my new life as Lorraine, doing all the things other girls do, including shopping. However, I was quite unprepared for our first stop, an 'adult' store on the outskirts of town.

"This is my sissy son who wants to be a girl," announced my mother to the woman behind the counter, as I almost fainted from shock and embarrassment. "I want to make sure his experience as a female is as complete as possible. We'll need to do something about her breasts and most definitely something about her crotch."

"Certainly," replied the shop attendant casually, not even blinking an eyelid.

And with that, I was introduced to a world of breast forms, vaginas and more.

I stood naked like a store dummy while the attendant held up various breast forms against my chest describing their styling and features until my mother chose the one she liked best. The attendant applied some glue to each one in turn before pressing them hard against me.

"Now cup your hands and hold these tight for a minute, like a good girl, while your mother and I discuss what to do for you down below," I was ordered.

I was shocked at how wonderful they felt to hold and how real they looked with their natural droop.

"Is that all you have?" I was rudely awoken from my brief daydream by a cold compress around my crotch. "It's hardly even needs chilling. It's small enough as it is. Say goodbye to this worthless appendage."

As I shrunk from embarrassment as much as from the cold, I was made to step into what looked like a tight g-string with an insert which held my shrivelled member backward between my legs.

"This will allow you to urinate in a sitting position without removal or adjustment. It also has a vaginal opening for penis penetration so you can experience sexual pleasure as a female."

With that, a vibrating dildo was put in my hand and the attendant showed me how to masturbate by carefully guiding my wrist. It didn't take me long to get the idea as I rubbed the throbbing member against the one hidden below crying out for relief.

"There, now you are a real girl," I heard the attendant say as I felt semen running down my inside leg.

I re-dressed myself in a daze, partly because of my orgasm and partly because of the sight of my new body. I was grateful to be able put my bra on to support my new breasts and couldn't stop marvelling at my flat tummy as I zipped up pants. As I cautiously walked up to the counter, aware of a subtle change in my centre of gravity, I knew things would never be the same again.

"We really have to go now," my mother said to the attendant. "Thanks for everything, especially that last item. We'll have to try it out tomorrow."

 

Chapter 11 – Shopping and More Shopping

I felt really strange walking out of the shop with my breasts bobbing around on my chest, for the first time actually relieved to be wearing a bra. Having my penis completely incarcerated back between my legs only added to these unfamiliar sensations. I blushed as I realised that my movements had become even more effeminate, my posture having to adjust to my new physique.

"You're a girl now, Lorraine," exclaimed my mother, sensing my trepidation. "There are going to be lots changes for you from now on. But I can see you are indeed ready for this transition by how naturally you are picking things up. You must obviously want to be a girl very much."

The next one of these new experiences was bra shopping. I had no idea about its complexity. The shock of entering a lingerie shop and being surrounded by racks and racks of women's intimate wear soon gave way to the monotony of having to try on countless bras in all sorts of different styles and colours.

"This is the most important purchase you'll ever make, my dear" my mother assured me. "A girl has to feel well supported underneath to look and feel good on the outside."

Indeed I felt well pleased by our purchases by the time we took a break for lunch. Knowing that I now had a range of beautiful underwear of my own without having to raid my mother's or my sister's.

Then the real shopping started in earnest. I lost count of the number of outfits I tried on. Some of them were totally outrageous, no more so than a black dress that hugged me as if it had been painted on. I didn't even need a bra with it as it held up my breasts all on its own while my new flat tummy could not have come more timely for such a tight outfit. But what shocked me the most was when I looked in the mirror and saw how rounded my bottom appeared. The dress had obviously been cut to fit a certain shape and had taken what I had and moulded it accordingly.

My mother left her credit card with the assistant and made me stroll through the mall as I was. To say that it turned heads would be an understatement.

"As a girl you are going to have to get used to being on show 100% of the time," she said among the wolf whistles and stares directed in my direction. Even women couldn't take their eyes off me, some with expressions of disgust, while others seemingly envious.

"Hold your head up and walk proudly, girl," my mother ordered as I traipsed round in disbelief at everyone's reaction.

Not every outfit was so dramatic. I particularly liked a camel coloured mini skirt with a wrap over buckle clasp that looked sensational with black pantihose and a pair of long black boots. Even a plain black skivvy looked great with it, the perfect contrast for my newly blonded hair. Winter couldn't come fast enough for me as I revelled in clothes I had all but given up of ever being able to wear.

This time it was I that asked to wear the outfit outside for a trial, not so much for the attention but so I could enjoy the moment that much more. I even stopped by the food hall for an instant just to be able to sit down and casually cross my legs as I had envied women doing so many times before.

By the end of the day, the parcels containing my new clothes were draping from me like decorations hanging from a Christmas tree. Tired as I was I just couldn't stop smiling. This had been the happiest day of my life, a fact not missed by my mother.

On our last stop, she chose for me a plain cream blouse over a homey brown knee-length skirt. She topped it off with a denim jacket that could have easily been worn by a boy. She had me wear it home because:

"A lady doesn't always need to be wearing ultra feminine clothes to feel ultra feminine on the inside," she said as we drove home. "It comes from being happy as you are, which you seem to have ably proved today."

I couldn't wait to get home and fill my wardrobe and drawers with all my new clothes so that there would be no room for all those horrible old clothes to ever come back. I wanted anyone walking into my room to immediately recognise it as the habitat of a young lady.

 

Chapter 12 – Coming Home

This time it was I that received a shocked when my father came home.

"Hi, Lorraine," he said kissing me on my check so nonchalantly that he obviously hadn't even noticed that my hair had changed colour since the last time he'd seen me.

"Men," I quietly muttered to myself. "They never seem to notice anything."

I momentarily stood in shocked silence as I realised that this was the sort of comment I used to hear my mother and sister directing at me. I couldn't believe it had arisen from inside my own head.

"What do you think of Lorraine's new hair style?" my mother asked, bringing me back to the present.

"Oh," my father responded noticing it for the first time. "It's beautiful! It suits you perfectly! It's so natural I hardly noticed it. You obviously must have been meant to be a girl all along. You look so lovely I'm going to have to watch out for the neighbourhood tom-cats chasing after you."

I blushed uncontrollably, shocked by my father's sudden acceptance of me as Lorraine, and more than a little proud at the same time. It made me think that mum wasn't joking when she had claimed that dad would have been happier if I had been born a girl. Reflecting on things now, I realised that I wished the same.

Things would have been so much easier for me as a girl, not having to sneak around in my mother's or sister's clothes. My father would have been more relaxed. My mother certainly wouldn't have minded a second daughter. Even my sister evidently liked me better as a girl. How things had finally righted themselves could only have been an inspired act of divine intervention and I thanked God for having made all our wishes come true.

Mum had this idea that since I had so many new clothes that we should all dress up for a special dinner. She didn't get any arguments from me. While I hadn't minded wearing the plain clothes towards the end of our shopping trip, I couldn't wait to get back into something a little more feminine. After all, that was now my right as a girl.

I quickly removed my staid clothes and slipped into my red printed georgette dress, and a pair of black strappy sandals with the 3-inch heels. I admired my new figure hugging outfit in the mirror, not at all missing the bulge that used to spoil the pleasure of wearing such gorgeous clothes, and not at all bothered by having to always sit down now when going to the toilet. I touched up my make-up, ran my hairbrush a few times through my hair, and went downstairs to enjoy the evening.

Since I knew that we were all going to be looking our sharpest, I didn't necessarily expect to be the 'Belle of the Ball' myself. But I was totally unprepared for who it was that would steal my thunder.

"Girls," said mum leading in a strangely familiar woman into the room by the hand. "Allow me to introduce to you your Aunt Tina."

"Dad?" I gasped in disbelief. "Is that really you?"

 

Chapter 13 – Wrap Up

If any doubt remained about my future, this was the defining moment that sealed my fate forever. Watching the poise with which my father conducted himself as a woman made me realise that many of the women's clothes I had secretly enjoyed wearing over the years must have in fact belonged to him. The TV program, that I had always assumed had caused me to want to become a girl, must have merely re-awakened desires in me that were waiting to be ignited since before I was born. Suddenly, everything made perfect sense – I was following in my father's footsteps. This had all been predetermined for me. I had no choice in the matter. It was destiny! In that moment of revelation, I truly accepted my fate for the first and last time.

"God may have taken a roundabout way of getting me there, but Lorraine was who I was osviously always meant to be!"

Mum had certainly meant it when she had warned, "there would be no half measures". Within an hour of seeing the Rubbish Truck fling my old clothes from our wheelie bin down into the back of the dumpster, Mum was escorting me to the doctor's appointment she had confidently booked the morning after I first met Tina.

"Of course she's certain of what she's doing. Just look at her! She tells me she's been secretly doing this since she was 6yo! That's 10 years! She has refused to wear a single item of men's clothing since we first discovered her little secret a couple of weeks ago, each morning greeting us as you see her now. I thought I might put her off with some aversion therapy but this seems to have only whetted her appetite all the more. Then this morning she deliberately scuttles my plan to bring her in for an evaluation by ridding herself of her old life so comprehensively.

"What else am I to do? I can't be bothered fighting this any more. It's obviously something hereditary as you can tell from her father, or what's left of him. I never thought I'd live through that. Now this? You might as well just get on with the inevitable."

As if to make her point all the more compelling, mum had me parade in my pastel pink "V" neck camisole and matching waist-layered skirt. Both full lined and both absolutely gorgeous. The 4-inch beaded sandals the perfect finale.

By the time I walked out of that Medical Centre, I had been well and truly inoculated and indoctrinated into womanhood. My head was spinning as my first shot of women's hormones whizzed around my blood stream, and a bag of pills, to "assist your body to adapt to its new life", cupped in my hands.

Before I could absorb what the good doctor described I could expect to occur, I was literally noticing subtle changes in my body day by day. Like finding my jeans tighter around my hips and thighs. My skin felt softer than ever. My facial hair all but disappeared (with a little help from electrolysis). Even my face started looking decidedly more rounded and feminine. But the most noticeable change was on my chest where my breasts and nipples not only had grown in size, but in sensitivity as well. I soon had to give up on breast forms as the discomfort from having them tug on my own developing mammary glands was just too much. I found that push-up bras more than adequately presented my B-cups while I continued to blossom.

To say that the dynamics in our house changed forever would have been the understatement of understatements. No longer having anyone for whom to maintain any pretence of masculinity, my father ceased wearing his male clothes altogether other than for work. Fate soon put paid to even that when he was unexpectedly made redundant a few months later, upon which what little there was left of my father, totally made way for Aunt Tina. He and mum used his redundancy pay out to buy a 'gift and craft' shop and anyone entering their little haven was greeted by the warm smiles from not one but two delightful middle-aged women. I could not remember ever seeing my parents so happy.

Our home became like a girl's dormitory with bras and panties, make-up and perfume, shrieks and giggles replacing what had previously been a boring old household. We playfully referred to Mum as the Chief Chook of our Hen House. As the oldest living female amongst us, she played her part to perfection. She was definitely the "boss", and our "mentor", with Aunt Tina and I more than happy to allow her to "wear the pants" in our family.

I never again was allowed to play with my penis or use it for anything other than "official business", and then only in the sitting down position. I was allowed to keep it "for the moment" with my sexual release consisting of running my vibrator around my various openings till slippery fluid started to drip down my inside legs from my vaginal opening.

"Women are the receptive energy," my mother would always keep reminding me.

I suspected that Aunt Tina was similarly restricted, especially after noticing an enormous strap-on dildo at the bottom of my mother's bedside drawer while I was putting away her underwear from the day's washing. I dared not even think of what it would be like to have someone pumping something like that into me.

I soon found out what the special item was that mum picked up on the way out from the 'adult' store.

"Don't think you are going to escape what we women have to go through every month," mother warned.

It was a Menstrual Kit! She inflicted this on Aunt Tina and I as soon as her own menstrual cycle commenced. It consisted of a small bag of "blood" that was kept in the freezer until the appointed time when a needle was used to pierce a small hole in the bag and inserted into a pouch inside our "v"-strings (ie. "v" for vaginas). As our body temperatures heated the bag, the "blood" commenced to flow, slowly at first till it gushed like a tap. It then continued to spot, days after you'd think it had drained itself dry.

"While I don't know how to make you go through all the monthly pain, at least you can suffer the same inconvenience that we all do as women."

And that I did. This opened up a whole new world for me, of pads and tampons, of light days and heavy days, and the occasional little leaks inside my panties at the most inopportune times (like when you are a million miles away from the nearest restroom). Doing my business would have been a complicated enough process in itself even without the worry of periods. Like the times I'd have to queue for a seat outside public restrooms, than having to battle through layers of clothes just to get to my outlet, not to mention afterwards having to virtually get dressed all over again - clothes, hair, make-up. It seemed as if I spent most of my waking hours in restrooms.

On the other hand, women's restrooms were like some sort of VIP club. They weren't at all like the chill of a men's room where I used to just do my business as quickly as I could while trying to avoid any eye contact. Women's rooms were places for social exchange with well-lit mirrors, beautiful décor, and discrete stalls in which I could do my business in private. They were a revelation.

But the periods themselves certainly weren't much fun. Apart from their obvious nuisance value and the mess, there was also the embarrassment I faced every time I had to go shopping for pads and tampons, which mum insisted were now my responsibility.

"It's all just part of being a woman," mum would say, as if that somehow made everything okay.

Mum all but stopped doing anything around the house other than supervising the rest of us with the cooking, cleaning, washing etc. According to her, she had done more than her share of these things for the family over the years, and it was now time for the "new girls" to return her the favour.

And when all the chores were completed, our lounge took on the appearance of a craft school. Apart from us having to learn what she regarded as "essential life skills" such as sewing and knitting, mum believed it was important we all had practical experience in everything we carried in our shop. Hence our evening conversations mostly revolved around casting-off new patterns or sewing up completed pieces or just giggling away to the clickity-click of our knitting needles. I never imagined how something so mundane could ever be so much fun. I think the vision of what I was creating was what kept it so interesting.

Most completed items went straight on display in our shop, but occasionally I managed to score a delightful piece for myself. My crème de la crème was a button front crewneck knit cardigan with beaded lace applique. Its lemon colour was simply adorable, and once I tried it on there was no way I could ever part with it, especially after the effort I'd put into making it.

I never did return to regular schooling, scoring a holiday job at the local department store. This soon turned into a permanent posting when a position suddenly arose in the Lingerie Department. The irony of all this caused great hilarity and much teasing at home:

"We never could keep you away from women's clothes, could we?"

"I suppose it's like working in a chocolate factory for you?"

"What's it like working in 'women's underwear', literally and physically?"

Having only recently started shopping for my own intimates, I was amazed to be on the other side of the fence so suddenly. But what I lacked in experience, I more than made up for with enthusiasm and I was soon one of the top sellers in our department.

I especially enjoyed serving male customers. While many seemed to be honestly looking for something for their wives or girlfriends, I could readily see through those that were shopping for themselves. They were so easy to up-sell:

"You must check out this silk and lace chemise," I would say. "It's so delightfully feminine I bet the lady in your life can't wait to wrap herself inside it. It will be an experience she'll never forget, or one she'll never forgive you for if you deny her this pleasure. Would you like it in ivory or hot pink?

And for some reason the same ones kept coming back to me over and over. I'm unsure if this was because they had nothing further to fear from me (ie. once I'd seen through them already), or because they got excited by my personalised service, or because they needed that extra push to get them to buy what they truly desired but couldn't bring themselves to going through with. Whatever the reason, being successful at my job made it all the more enjoyable.

Happiness at home… happiness at work… I guess the apple cart was bound to get rocked sooner or later… I just can't believe I hadn't envisaged this problem before…

 

To Be Continued …

© 2002

  

  

  

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