Clap Hands, Here Comes Rachel

by Rachel

  

Introduction to TiT 101 (Part 2)

 

Over the past four months, the virginal Raymond had been de-virginized many times over by the ladies of The Club. And whereas earlier, a bared female breast had been a rare sighting for him, now he could not only look them over with impunity but could readily identify a face and name to a pair of breasts. But as Patti had mentioned to him, he, himself, had become a slave of The BSers, they had him by the short hairs. And now they were getting ready to put him into the TiT program and send him to PIS. Further, he had been on the pills since the very outset and the results were becoming quite evident, especially to the ladies who had been entertaining him.

Oh, honey, did I forget to tell you about the TiT program. It is The BSer's formalized entry level gender inversion program for the serious practitioner. It was basically a part-time program requiring the participant to maintain his day job but the TiT administrators maintained the right to call him at any other time to pursue his training and/or give him exposure to a particularly important aspect of the program. Entry into the program is by 'invitation only' which keeps out the hobbyists and curiosity seekers. Actually though, for practical purposes, TiT is an enforced gender inversion program what with some of the anatomical changes and psyche inversions being irreversible, oh, you know, there would be a degree of mammary development which would be apparent over time and the diminishment of the bulge which would not be apparent to the casual viewer but sure as heck would be to the participant. You all know what I'm talking about, don't you.

But such details were of no consequence to The BSers what with all those contracts and permission slips that the slaves signed early on. TiT is the Transvestite in Training program, don't you know and is not to be confused with the more advanced TIT program but we don't want to get ahead of ourselves here.

Oh yes, PIS. You and I both know that it is one thing to have a TiT who looks the part but another who has had his psyche reversed from that of the male to female. You guessed it, honey, PIS is the Psyche Inversion Sessions during which time the TiT is schooled in all aspects of basic female behavior and demeanor, mannerisms, voice modulation training, feminine hygiene and what alls. PIS is where the previous week's activities are discussed just in case anyone missed anything, honey, when you get involved, and it would be particularly true during the early stages, so many things are happening concurrently that one might be apt to miss something. You guessed it, it was at the PIS sessions that anything missed would be pointed out and a repeat performance would be required. And there were the Q & A periods just to make sure that everyone is paying attention. And lucky Raymond was playing the role of the big man on campus and having his way with the girls, er, the ladies, and all the while, it was the ladies who were earning the points for teaching Raymond the ropes. Oh, you remember, they were letting Raymond play with the girls so that he would know what to expect in his new role.

And all the while, the female hormones were taking advantage of the reduced output from those pesky testes and exerting their power over his body. Raymond suspected something was awry when he noticed that his fitted shirts were a little snug across his chest allowing the nipples to protrude prominently through the fabric. He kept his jacket on all day to cover up what he considered his deformity. It got to the point that he was looking forward to being at The Club where said deformity became his greatest asset. The rigid diet had indeed deposited a layer of fat over his scrawny frame, thus effecting an overall smoothness over his face and body. And not only that, as it does with all females, the fat settled down at his hips adding a little extra breadth. In addition, in short order the diet had induced the filling out of the dimples on his outer thighs give a new fullness to his ass cheeks. And attending the physical conditioning classes which worked to rid him of what little muscle mass that he had, now he could feel the added suppleness and elongation of the muscles of his arms and legs. The results were trimmer and longer looking legs and a more narrower waistline to give him that highly desirable hour glass figure that men so admired. And it was all done without a corresponding increase in his bodily weight. Damn, even the ladies at The Club were noticing that the bugger was getting the figure of a high fashion model. Oh sure, there were some who commented on his 'skinniness' but the aficionado chalked it up to 'sour grapes.'

And as one of the girls had reported earlier, he was shrinking to the point where the techers knew they were not going to have a problem with the bulge. It was Patti who gave him the word, "I think The BSers have some big plans for you, big boy. The girls were saying that you were shrinking down to a nubbin already? I always thought your boobs were coming along a lot faster than they usually do for the TiTs. What have you been doing with the girls, honey, one of them even mentioned that even your areola areas have already mounded over and that your tits are really sensitive and are quick to stand up, you know what I'm sayin'? I really think The BSers are thinking of turning you into a girl – you know, a girl, just like the rest of us, you know, boobies, they really know how to develop those. They're still experimenting at that other place but they have the techers working on several different techniques – as a last resort though, they can go the chop chop route. They really don't chop it off any more, they sort of turn it inside out so you can continue to get a charge from it. They'll probably let you have your last fling as a male during the month before they put you into the on-the-job training phase. How are you going to know when you're done as a male? Honey, the girls will let you know, you'll know and The BSers will know. But by that time, they will have PISsed you to the point that you will be just chomping at the bit to be flaunting your goodies at the boys. Then you got to worry about whether they're going to do a chop chop on you, hells bells, you're too small now to be going both ways. Like I said, it's something for you to worry about?" Thanks a lot, Patti, thanks a bunch.

Raymond's first on-the-job training assignment was down at the beauty salon where other trainees used him for a model to apply make-up and style hair. They plucked his eyebrows and waxed around his eyes. They laughingly chided him how much it was going to hurt to have his ear lobes pierced. They laughed at his apprehension as they settled him down amidst the laughter and inserted the studs. They gave him a manicure using clear nail polish. But with the pedicure, they used a near fluorescent candy apple red which Raymond thought was bright enough to blow right through his shoes. And he was learning that for the showgirls and dancers, make-up included much more than just the face and hair. And thus, Raymond learned to control himself as he applied body lotion and make-up. He appreciated being able to carry on a non-sensical banter with the dancers while he worked diligently to be thorough.

As he gained proficiency, most of the dancers looked to have Raymond check them out for smoothness in those areas where they couldn't see for themselves although Raymond himself knew that they had done it without him for all these times. But he went along with them because it was his job, honey, inspecting the bikini area for any appearance of a stubble and correcting same is not something a male is apt to pick up in his everyday routine. But like I said, it had become just a part of his job.

In time he had gained sufficient proficiency to be able to assist the featured performers down, not only at The Club itself, but at some of the other locations as well. He actually took pride in the fact that his reputation had spread up and down The Avenue. Oh sure, there were some dancers who took advantage of him, even to the point where one goaded him, "Go ahead, kiss it for luck, honey." Raymond hoped that the word wouldn't get around – it just wasn't his thing, just another part of the job.

Things were happening so quickly for Raymond. He had noted as had some of the dancers that he was the only one in the back rooms who still had it. The word was quickly passed and there was no way that he could avoid it. There was no discussion about it, just a lot of good natured ribbing as they denuded him of all bodily hair below his eyes. They used their hands to apply the body lotion and powdered him up, exclaimng, "Oooo, was that as fun for you as it is for us when you do it. I hope so, Raymond, I hope so." Raymond could only muster up a wry smile.

Van spoke elatedly, "Sam's my roommate here and she's on the road for the next month and we get to go along. Of course, we have a participatory part in her performance but we'll just play it by ear." Even Raymond could feel the thrill of making the rounds of several other clubs which belonged to The BSers chain. Oh sure, he knew he didn't have a choice but as they said, it would 'round out his experience."

Raymond sat at the seat where the runway met the stage with Van just as they had done so many times back at their own Club. Samantha was the tall, leggy model type, more than pretty enough – smallish breasts but with delightfully bright nipples - and was dancing inter-actively with reckless abandon at the far end of the bar. She was topless as expected (and the smallish breasts took on greater prominence as she worked her shoulders to show their changing shapes, leaned herself forward to show their full dangle, conversely, she pulled them back tightly against her chest giving added prominence to her gorgeous nipples, delightful, absolutely delightful – oh, she just knew how to use what she had and the gallery loved it) and toyed with the bands of her G string and permitting a favored patron a fleeting glimpse of it in return for a Jackson. By the time that she was approaching Raymond, she already had accumulated a good fistful of the green. Van gave Raymond a good nudge and he reacted almost by rote as he placed his own Jackson directly in front of him. Everyone could see that it was the green that attracted Sam as though it were a magnet.

She did her magic gyrations in front of him and as the expression goes, Raymond was giving her one hundred percent attention. He visibly winced as she rolled her hips and then thrust them forward with extra vigor to the heavy beat of the bass drum, oh, you know, the bumps and grinds. Oh, sure, Raymond had seen it done many times before but it was always different when performed by a different dancer and knowing that it was directed at him personally. Van knew where to place her hands to keep Raymond's interest from waning, just in case, don't you know. She could feel that indeed Raymond was enthralled by it all – in fact, she had not seen him so aroused since the good old days, you know what I'm sayin'? And in return, Raymond could even feel Van's excitement as she squeezed him a bit tighter when the action was getting better. It was something that he stored in his memory bank – that there were actually girls who got a charge out of watching other girls. And the gallery knew that Van was going to do something special and let loose with their hoots and hollers.

And sure enough, Raymond stared with upraised face, oh my, he was no more than three feet away from it with the footlights shining right up into it and an occasional strobe light flashing right into his face. And then aaaaaah, Sam was down in a full squat, knees splayed and oh my, oh my, she could still put that little extra twitch to it. She dropped one knee to the right for the benefit of the patrons alongside of Raymond and then to the left. And although he was as attentive as he could be, he failed to notice that she had inched herself forward until her knees were just outboard of his ears. Aw, honey, you'd be easily distracted too if you noted that she had displaced the patch of her G string – and – giddyup, if you were in front of her, you could see it, you could see the entire enchilada. Aw, honey, there's never a sight more beholding that the first view of one, you know don't you, that every one of them is a little different from another, not better or worse, just different. Raymond felt Van's hand in back of his neck keeping him leaning forward just a bit and then all he heard were the thwock, thwock, thwock as Samantha closed her knees against his ears.

Raymond reeled from the thwocks. And even as he was trying to regain his senses, Samantha herself grasped him firmly by the ears, turned his face slightly upwards and it was bam, bam, bam right up into it. Raymond was in a state of shock but make no mistake, he knew where he was and what he was doing although he had no control over it. He could hear the catcalls from the gallery as Samantha held his head just far enough away that he could focus his eyes on it. And he heard a feminine voice in the gallery mutter, "Oh dear, oh dear." He looked for the G string but it was nowhere to be seen. But oh boy, oh boy, he could see it glistening under the lights, glistening under its own wetness, glistening as though it were shiny new.

Raymond let Van pull him away as she unhooked the G string from around his ear. He didn't know whether the cheers he was hearing was for Sam or for him. But Van answered the question by nudging him to a standing position, and sonbitch, he found himself waving the G string in air, never mindful of the wetness that could be seen on his nose. Raymond knew the value of being a good sport.

Featured performers made themselves available for a photo session in the front lobby. Sam had put on her cover up gown which served no concealment purpose to drum up a little extra trade for herself. Damn, Raymond knew that he didn't need that but found himself coerced into posing for the classical prom photo with her full length naked body virtually plastered against his – oh sure, she was experienced and exercised her own option of letting as much of herself show as the shooting fee warranted. Van urged Sam to present herself full frontal with her back leaning into Raymond. He wrapped his arms around her mid-section, she opened out her thighs and flexed one leg to allow just a bit of it to show and with quick as a flash, it was done. But they all knew that those would be pictures which couldn't be displayed anywhere, not even in his own condo. But damn, Raymond always got a thrill whenever he looked at them. I had a bunch of those, one of which was autographed, but I had to keep them hidden in the pages of a book, honey, you can't even leave them in a drawer lest they be open to casual views.

Raymond was to learn along the way that Van's act was orchestrated that way with shills in the hot seat – no way were they going to allow total strangers to stick their noses up in there. And they used rotating males to help out just in case there were patrons who followed her act from venue to venue. And actually, even during the photo shoot, Raymond was the shill intended to draw paying patrons to be posed with Sam – oh sure, she posed with the patrons using the cover-up gown depending on whether she was posing for a Grant or whatever but nobody, that's like nobody, got the photos that Raymond got.

Raymond knew his days down at the brokerage were numbered when they restyled his hair to give him a more unisexed look. He worked at the beauty shop in a white slacks uniform but he had developed a sixth sense that indicated that they were going to speed up his training. He wrote a letter of resignation to the brokerage house and indeed, with more time available, they assigned him a second job down at the costume boutique where most of the customers were dancers at different venues along The Avenue. He established rapport with the clientele and whereas he had developed a degree of expertise in evaluating breasts, now he was able to expand his horizons to include other aspects of their anatomy, primarily the ass, my man, the ass. You just cannot imagine the variations that can exist in a pair of cheeks, you know what I'm sayin'?

Raymond reveled in his assignment. He learned to see without appearing to be staring, eager to be helpful without appearing pushy. He seemed to be able to position himself at just the right places at the right time to be helpful – outside the shower stall with towel and robe in hand, at the ready with the dance costume and somewhat eager to help the dancer get herself ready. He learned quickly which of the dancers would give him a good rub down there and which ones would give him only a tweak on the cheek. And he learned quickly what certain dancers expected of him in return for small favors, you know what I'm sayin'?

The informality and the ease with which he could mix with the girls generated new problems for Raymond as he heard the smacking of lips as he passed by. And there were some who postured with their pelvic area to sort of deliver a message. He heard, "Hey, Raymond, I heard you had your head in between Samantha's legs." And more than once, "You can give me a treat any time, darlin'." Well, at least he knew he was cozy with the girls. Made him feel all glowy inside.

But the girls had put their heads together with the wardrobe mistress, "It really doesn't look right for Raymond to be in male attire when he is back here tending to our needs. He's already had his beauty shop training, we just ought to put him into drag just to see how well he blends in with us." They cleared it with the techers who agreed, "That'll work, just give us a few hours with him and we'll eliminate the problem area so you can do your thing."

Raymond was not looking to be put up on that detestable examination table. But they had their muscle at the ready and stripped him down. It was with surprising ease that they hoisted him atop the table, placed his knees in the braces and feet locked into the stirrups, with the two of them leaning on the insides of his knees and whoooomp, Raymond closed his eyes to shut out the indignity of it all. They strapped his arms down and lifted the back rest to enable him to get a full view of the proceedings from the mirrored walls.

The techers had their diagrams at the ready together with the table of supplies. They checked the diagram against it and laughed outwardly, "It's so much smaller than I imagined it would be," followed by, "It's so small now that I can squeeze it down into the palm of my hand. The olives that they put in the martinis are bigger than the ones he's got. We can get rid of that thing in a flash, so to speak." Raymond tried to snap his thighs together to no avail. He tried to sit himself up but like I said, they had strapped his arms down. His face paled but he heard the somewhat low pitched voice call out, "Not to worry, Raymond, not to worry, we're not doing the chop chop on you, they want you to have some maleness left in you – that's why they've been giving you all that freedom with the ladies the last few months." Didn't make Raymond feel any better that the voice came from a female, at least she was dressed as a female. It kept Raymond's mind working in a strange direction.

The techers compressed and tucked it just so and taped it down and they were done. When the techer who was blocking his view of the proceedings stepped aside, Raymond emitted a piercing scream. He looked for it but it was gone. He tried to reach for it but it was a futile effort. He could see the techer grinning up into his face, "It's all right, Raymond, you're going to love being without it. It's going to look just like the girls." And to reenforce his words, she ran the flat of her hand right down his vee and into his crotch and gave it a good rubbing. She taunted him with, "Did you ever do that to one of the girls. Did she like it, Raymond?" Another country heard from, "It will take him a little while to get used to it but with that body, he'll do great as a TiT."

After they had made sport of him, they went back to their work. Raymond could recall that they sprayed the entire crotch area and applied a soft patch, a vinyl patch they referred to as The Kitty. He could hear the side talk, "I hear Patti really put up a fuss when they made a mold out of hers. With the master made, in another year or so, every adult book store will have a replica of hers. Can you imagine how she's feeling about now – worse yet when she sees it on Raymond.

Actually, it was about the same time that The BSers made the decision on Raymond. They put the spreader bars on the naked Patti and hoisted her by the ankles until she was presenting herself at eye level. The techers sprayed her in between the legs with what they called a releasing agent and she could recall hearing, "Make sure it gets way down in there into every nook and cranny – I don't want any hang ups in there later on." And indeed, she could feel them poking to insure that they got it into every nook and cranny. Only one way I know how to get that done, and honey, you gotta do what you gotta do. Patti struggled to avoid the indignity. But honey, when you're strung up by the ankles in an inverted spread position, they're pretty much going to do what they got to do, don't you know.

But moving on, the second pour was a somewhat more viscose substance that poured slower and needed to be worked into the aforementioned nook and cranny using the same effective method. They piddled with it while waiting for it to set up before peeling it away making a big show of it for Patti's benefit. And indeed Patti recalled that it was a good thing that they got that releasing agent into you know, every nook and cranny.

Patti never felt so many hands, never mind trying to identify whether they were male or female hands, cleaning the residue off and sort of polishing everything back to its better than original condition. They photographed it and took color swatches from it before taking her down and sending her on her way as though it was just another day at the office. Patti walked with a peculiar gait following the ordeal, it was possible that they may have left a little of the residue back in there but nobody was volunteering to check it out.

Back at the lab, the techers had made a mold out of it, reworked it somewhat to eliminate some of the minor wrinkles and folds to give a little more symmetry and joila, they had a vinyl replica of Patti. And it was in 3D. They enhanced the colors a bit to give it a little more pizazz, the glistening shine where it ought to have been, but oh my, oh my, when they were done with it, you could tell at a glance what it was and for the privileged few who were able to say that they were there and knew where it came from. But honestly, folks, there is so much variation in those thingys that unless you put them side by side, there ain't no telling what the differences are, that's just a piece of wisdom. Honestly, folks, I was at a show when it was possible to study two of them side by side and there were no two alike. You can't imagine the variations that can occur. And with that being said, The Kitty with the enhancements, well, it could be said that it looked better than the real thing. As they say, it was a new and improved model, so to speak. Aaagh, Patti ain't gonna want to hear that.

They made a big thing out of applying the patch on to Raymond. The techers spread him out on the examination table, gads, how he detested being put into that position, and pasted the patch on Raymond and smoothed it out, smoothed it out and called in the make-up folks to blend the edges out. And as far as Raymond was concerned, it was no pain, don't complain. It was Van and Sam who called out, "Here, Raymond, look into the mirror and tell me what you don't see. Raymond looked into the mirror and let out a shrill feminine sounding eeeeeeek, it was bad enough that it wasn't there any more, but eeeee, all those PIS classes had clued him in as to what girls have down there. Oh boy, oh boy, he flexed his thighs, opening them out and peering down in there. He bent his knees just as the dancers do when they go into their full spread. Van and Sam steadied him as he stared in shocked horror. He was looking at what he had seen so many times at the topless joint when the girls took off their G string. But they didn't let him have the free time to make an analysis as Van called out, "You like that, Raymond, oh baby, now you look just like the rest of us. Next time you see Patti, don't forget to say thanks for The Kitty, she'll know what you mean. Tell her that you saw that they already had a hundred of them ready for distribution to the adult book stores, that'll really set her off." Raymond didn't know whether to cry or cheer but he knew he liked it. Coool.

And now he heard, "Come on, Raymond, get your clothes on, they're going to get you some new duds, honey, you're just going to love your new look."

Raymond tried to recall the happenings of the day. His accessory sac and the pellets had been pushed far into the cavity from which they had originated whereas the shaft had been elongated to it's full length and taped flat to permit it's use as a water faucet. (Oh, honey, please don't try this at home, you can do irreparable damage to yourself and not even know it. There are some really tenacious industrial strength tapes out there which will do the job, but honey, when you go to remove it, you will probably be removing more than just the tape, you know what I'm sayin'? Like I said, some of that industrial strength tape is really tenacious, that's like it really sticks and won't come off readily. And I repeat, do not try this at home. Besides, it so much more fun when you do it with a friend.) But Raymond could feel the defined outline of the outer lips and the smoothness with which the vinyl patch was blended into its surroundings. He looked at his reflected image and assumed the same poses that he had seen the many nude models assume – hot damn, what with a little make-up and jewelry, he knew deep inside that he was going to cut it. He found it easy to toss on his clothes, eager to get himself over to the costume shop.

He had anticipated being allowed to wear a bra with some small pads and a bikini panty. He could buy the packaged sets at the department store or discount outlet store on the other side of town where he would not be recognized. A quick walk through the lingerie section at the department store indicated to him that they did not have the styles that look so appealing on the models in the catalogs but he didn't want to be caught browsing. He knew his chest measurement was 36 but how about the cup size, did he have to buy the pads first and measure himself with the pads. The straps had enough adjustment capability so as to not create a problem – did all bras come with matching panties and what size panty would I need. And that wasn't even including the colors, the fabric, and what alls. Well, he thought he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Been there, done that. I tried to look nonchalant as I left the bra department of the department store after being berated by the clerk, "You don't buy a bra by just giving me your chest measurement, what about the cup size, how about the colors, the style – front or back closing. Come back another time you little pansy when you have the right answers.

I was willing to take a chance on the size and mixed it in with a lot of other stuff at the discount store to get it through the check-out but the cashier fumbled with it and held it up just to get it to scan. Then it was down to the drug store for a pair of support panty hose which I thought I could use in lieu of a gaff. And then it was a trip down to the adult book store where I had seen falsies for sale - they were cheap falsies made of foam rubber. I bought a pair of panties at the popular lingerie store at the mall where they had a section devoted to the larger sizes for men but I rummaged quickly through their bikini panties and picked out one because they looked nice and were a one size fits all style.

Well, the bra fit all right with the pads but I just couldn't keep it down where it belonged. It was like, man, in fifteen minutes of normal movement, the bra would creep up and up and up. And in time, I would have been strangled by my own bra. And no amount of tightening the band would help. And the foam pads were so soft that they got compressed in the bra, besides, they were hot against my body and never did look or feel right. And when they got compressed, they didn't hold their shape and thus I couldn't get the separation in order to get the look of cleavage. The panties were fine, I suppose, the panty hose helped a little but I just couldn't wear them because of the bulge. My first shopping trip was a total disaster.

I went to a support group meeting one evening because there was going to be a presentation by a sympathetic lingerie shop owner who would open her shop after hours to accommodate the members. That was for me. She showed me a delightful matching bra and panty set and recommended that I wear the 'no panty line showing' elasticized panty to wear in lieu of a gaff. She poo poood the foam pads and showed me the much pricier weighted pads which I had to agree gave me a better shape and had the weight to keep my bra in position. And not only that, it would give me the satisfaction of seeing my breasts swaying in unison with my other bodily movements.

At the very least, I had learned the lesson that transforming was not something that could be done on my own. I had seen it at the support meeting where a 'tackle for the local pro football team' aspired to become a cheer leader or topless dancer, honey, it ain't gonna work. And there were several who were vying for the title of the bearded lady, I guess. Again, the bra I bought at the discount store was designed for a functional purpose which didn't meet my needs. And my pads were the A cupped size only because it was available at the time for the right price, did I mention cheap. I should have gotten help like at the lingerie boutique where the manager selected the right styles and colors for my type. The bra I got there had straps which were placed to sit far outboard on my shoulders to allow me to reveal most of my upper chest. Then there was the thing about a deep plunge and of course, the lift and squeeze and the built in pockets for the mini-pads. I couldn't even begin to imagine how many different features get built into the bras. There were color requirements which even went as far as coordinating with the tops, oh, you know how see-through women's blouses can be. I was back at the lingerie boutique on a regular basis and was buying several different bras each month just to go to the meetings. I added a few more 'no panty line' panties to avoid the laundry chores and in no time at all I had a drawerful of matching bras and panty sets. No, building a start-up wardrobe isn't something to be undertaken on your own. Again, storage of the female items requires an entirely different configuration of your dresser not to mention hanging space in the closet. Honey, even the hangars need to be different.

At the support group meetings, you could see the difference in those who dressed themselves versus those that had help. It was in those little things that males don't even think about, like color coordination, matching styles, current trends, - oh, you remember panty hose as a total disaster. And did you add garter belts and teddies to your wardrobe while it was an early fashion trend. Oh, those designers were so clever in placing those snaps way down in the crotch of those teddies to serve a functional need. I was really glad that they had put that extra suppleness and elasticity into my muscles – damn, it was a job to learn how to get those snaps closed properly. But it was my Mistress who dictated what I was to wear and it still sends shivers down my back when I recall going shopping with her for my new duds. Come on, girls don't refer to their garments as duds. See..

Raymond stripped down eagerly and oh my, oh my, he heard the gasps of amazement as they all got their first view of him. He heard, "Beautiful, Raymond, absolutely gorgeous. You look just like one of the girls without that thing hanging down there." And additionally, there was, "I gave it a good look from no more than a foot away and could barely see where The Kitty ended and where Raymond started. We got to quit calling him Raymond, all the Raymond's I know have a different plumbing system, don't you know." And sonbitch, the bugger was loving it.

They measured him again assuring him that there was no fooling around, they had never measured him without it hanging out before. Sure. He could see the girls smirking as they pawed through the collection of bras and panties. He stepped into the orchid colored panties and a matching pair of high heeled bedroom mules for the fitting. He was appalled at the skimpiness of the bra but was assured, "It's a half bra, it will give you a good lift from the bottom and a squeeze in from the sides. We'll put a small pad on each side to give you a little assist until you fill out just a bit more. Oh, you're going to be so gorgeous."

Raymond couldn't wipe the s___ eating grin from his face as he looked at himself in the mirrors. The half bra indeed lifted what he thought were minisculed breasts into gorgeous mounds of femininity. Now he knew how those waitresses got those bazooms to flow out of the tops of their snug fitting uniforms. And he could now see his very own cleavage and sonbitch, if he stood just right, he could see all the way down to his toes. He felt the light pats on his ass cheeks and looked down to see a grinning face looking back at him as he mused, 'Damn, if she doesn't look like a TV.' But what the hey, he not only patted her on the cheek, he gave it a parting kiss. And for Raymond, it just don't get no better than that.

Oh yes, it does. It's called the tricks of the trade. It was one of the costumers who ran her hands over the flatness of Raymond's stomach and up his rib cage, commenting on the smoothness of the flesh and the lack of that angular look of the male. She piddled around at his breasts and ooooh, she reached in over the top of the lacey trim of the half bra and had a firm grip on both of his nipples. She then lifted the nipples and damn, sonbitch, Raymond could feel his own breasts sort of turning over inside the cups. The costumer gave the nipples a few good shakes and let them fall back into the bra where it settled behind the lacey lavendar trim. Raymond heard the hoots and hollers as he himself could see the outline of his very own nipples through the near transparent lace. See them, my ass, all that manipulating and shaking had brought them to attention. He could not only see the new and greatly enlarged nipples but now they sat atop the mounded areola areas, and oh my yes, they were a glowing shade of pink. Raymond was in seventh heaven.

He drew on the pair of hip hugger slacks which covered the panty but was far below his natural waist line. It was one of the girls who advised him, "Just let it find it's natural place down on your hips, honey. Besides, your ass will help you keep it up there." The flowy top not only hung low off his shoulders but had a deep wide plunge which revealed the full length of his cleavage and the mounds which bordered it. And the blouse flared out just under his rib cage and stopped leaving the full expanse of his midriff bare. He was showing a lot of flesh but they tossed a small cover up cape over his shoulders for assurance and gave him his orders, "Hail a cabbie on the street and get yourself over to the beauty salon. They'll fix you up in time to make the evening's opening at The Club.

And Raymond thought it would be panic time for him but oh my, he was floating on air. He knew they were testing him, he just knew it. He was glad that they had stretched out the muscles that he would need to be able to walk presentably in high heels. He was glad that he had paid attention to the female demeanor sessions – oh my, now he knew why they were so tough on him during the learning process. He had arrived, Raymond had arrived. With the boobs and The Kitty in place, well, close enough.

Like I said, trying to become a TV on your own is a losing proposition, you end up looking like a girl to a male's specifications and that's not what being female is all about, but now I'm lecturing. Besides, it's a lot more fun when you do it with a friend but I liked it best when I was owned and that's what my Mistress deemed I would be. And as a male, you just never could imagine what it was girls do much less what you thought girls ought to look like, you know what I'm sayin'?

But for Raymond, it had been a harrowing four months or so. They had nailed him from the very day at The Club. Once he presented his ID, they checked him out and verified for themselves that he was going to be a good candidate for their TiT program. Darryl's 'on the house' drinks merely loosened him up and made him amenable to the advances of the many experienced ladies who gave him a lifetime of experiences in that short time. As a result, in very short order, he signed the papers which made him an indentured servant of The Big Sisters. Upon the recommendations of the technical staff, Darryl began to alter Raymond's 'on the house' drinks and unbeknownst to him, he was taking massive doses of female hormones which stifled the output from those pesky testes and straight into the TiT program.

By the time he became aware of the happenings, it was too late. The PIS sessins, an integral part of TiT which worked to reverse his psyche from that of a male to female had taken hold of his mindset. And honey, you can't' just take those hormones and quit when you've had enough. And thus, Raymond could see the development, albeit slow, of his mammaries with his changing bodily configurations and the shrinking of his obvious male characteristics to an almost nothingness. It took several false starts before Raymond could accept the fact that the changes were irreversible.

The BSers accelerated his transition and in short order, with his physical development well under way and the diminishment of his inpediment and with the assistance from Patti, they fitted him with the new and improved vinyl Kitty which was the crowning achievement for the techers in the physical transformation of Raymond. And honey, everybody knows that if it looks like a girl and acts like a girl, it must be a girl. And sure enough, the wheels were set in motion to have a coming out party for Rachel. Who dat, you say? Like I said, if it looks like a girl – why, that's Raymond. Raymond is gone, he's Rachel, er, she's Rachel. Too bad he didn't know it yet.

They sent him down to the photo studio for some insurance shots, you know, photos of him dressed en femme, just enough make up and wig to give him the appropriate appearance. But anyone taking the time to analyze the photo would see that it was Raymond dressed in drag – oh sure, they called it insurance but you and I would know that it was tantamount to blackmail.

The photo shoot director showed Raymond the glamorous publicity photos of the hostesses and dancing in poses which highlighted their attributes. Oh sure, Raymond wasn't going to be competitive with the girls who had the C and D cups or the 26 inch waists but then again, like I said, girls came in all sizes and shapes and Raymond was competitive. But The BSers knew that they had him, they had him from the very first visit to The Club – photos of him with the girls, photos of him doing it with the girls, photos of him being done to by the girls, vidoes of him with the girls, videos of him doing it with the girls, videos of him being done to by the girls – they had him. What were the photos good for. Well, honey, if you knew that they had the aforementioned photos and videos and you didn't want them appearing in the scene publications or just by chance, posted on the bulletin boards of the local joints, the very same with the videos – well, if it only took for you to be a good boy, or a good girl, whatever the situation called for, to keep the photos and videos under wraps, they by gum, you were going to be a good boy, or a good girl, whatever, you know what I'm sayin'? It's like insurance, you don't know when you are going to need it but The BSers liked to cover all the bases. Oh, sure, it's like blackmail but that lacks even a trace of sophistication, don't you agree.

It was Van who added, "Raymond, honey, they want you to have some special training at one of our other venues – you're going to love it. Your trainer will be a cute little blonde with winning ways and she'll have you on your knees in no time at all begging to do her bidding. You'll love it, you'll love her – but then again, maybe not.

  

  

  

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