Clap Hands, Here Comes Rachel

by Rachel

  

Replenishing the Stock or New Girl on the Block, Coming Up

 

Actually, Stefani was wearing a bra and the special no-panty-line showing panties, an elasticized control garment designed to be worn with the particularly form-fitting slacks, when she started to pull up her new slacks. She liked the mannish tailoring at the waist line complete with the zippered fly and pockets, all simulated, of course but chalked it all up to past memories . But try as she would, there was no way that she could get the waist band up over the swell of her hips. But she could feel the glorious feeling of having the crotch nestling right up where it should be even to the point where she thought a little bit of looseness down there would have been shown a bit of restraint. But she heard the snickers from her girl friends, "That's where those slacks were designed to sit, honey, that's where most of the guys will look to make sure that you are really female. Just be careful who is behind you when you bend over." Stefani took the time to check her backsides and eeeeeh, even in a full standing position, she could see traces of her crack over the top of her waistband. In fact, she even thought that the slacks had been designed with a slight dip in the back for just that purpose. But the girls took her mind off of the crack by shifting her attention to the smoothness that she was achieving with her very own cheeks. And oh, my yes, somebody was smoothing the taut fabric over the cheeks to insure that the fit was proper. Sure. And it was even before she could absorb the comments at her backsides, she could feel a much more direct smoothing at the front and heard, "Oh, that's nice, Stefani, you keep those slacks pulled up as high as they can go and you'll be showing off the smoothness at your vee, see, nary a trace of a bulge down here, lovely, absolutely lovely." And even Stefani herself joined in with Van and Sam as they savored the smoothness feeling for themselves to emphasize their remarks. Stefani found herself pushing her hands down there – she didn't know whether it was to fend off the excessive smoothing down there or just because she wanted to feel it for herself.

Stefani could feel a little relief as she saw the matching top to the outfit. She could see that there wasn't much to it but allowed it to be slipped over her head and felt the smoothing over her breasts. They were always smoothing things over her breasts and ass cheeks not to mention down into her crotch. But it didn't bother her too much in that it gave her a tremendously good feeling as they did it. They had done smoothing it over her breasts when they stepped back to admire their work. Stefani's jaws dropped. The top covered her breasts but stopped a few inches after it had done its job – that of covering her breasts, that is and not much more. Stefani was aghast at how much of her mid-section was left in full view. And honey, that included her naval. And all that expanse of her bared flesh only emphasized how low her slacks were hanging down there. To her eyeball measurement, it was a full five inches below her naval, five inches! And not only that, it was a full five inches above her naval. Why, that imposed the need to constantly expand her shaved bikini area as an integral adjunct to wearing the slacks. And although she would have detected it for herself, it was Sam who pointed out how easy it was for anyone so inclined to be able to sneak a peak down the front of her bodice or even to reach under the looseness at the bottom to cop a feel, not just anyone mind you, only those so inclined, that is. It served as a sort of reminder to Stefani that it was somewhat important to always wear a bra.

But things were beginning to look up for Stefani. They slipped the matching top to the outfit over her shoulders, a long sleeved suit styled jacket which when fastened by the single button at the waist emphasized the trimness of her waist as well as the flare at her hips, oh, boys don't have much there but neither did Rachel before they started her on the regimen of pills and the rigid fat inducing diet. But, oh boy, by the time Rachel's boobies had ripened up, her waist had trimmed down and her hips had flared out, honey, when they put the high heels on her, her ass and boobs took on an added prominence, that's what a girl in slacks was supposed to look like – a girl in slacks didn't have to look boyish at all, that is if one were to emphasize her femininity, you know what I'm sayin'?

The BSers took a special interest in Stefani in that boys who fit that particular kind of mold were a rarity – you know, young, unattached and affluent and readily susceptible to a kind of PIS training mold. Generally speaking, by the time most of the guys achieved the affluence and had made up their own minds as to joining up for a transformation, their idiosyncracies were apt to be well-fixed in their minds – damn, what I'm trying to say is that they were apt to be really too old to be trained as 'toy boy/girls for the guys,' you know what I'm sayin'?

But, as long as The BSers had Rachel, there was no hurry in transforming Stefani. They had watched what two days on Darryl's special 'on the house' drink had affected his behavior, particularly his attitude towards the girls – hells bells, they had him on the string and over the next six months or so, they would start reeling him in. Oh sure, during that time, he would be on a regimen of pills and that special diet just like Rachel had been on and with scheduled visits to The Club to socialize with the girls and periodic field trips to expand his area of interests, by the time it came for him to make a decision, The BSers would have already made the decision for him.

Stefani preened before the mirrors. She could see that the slacks had been cut a few inches too long as they sort of bloused themselves over her feet. But not to worry, honey. It was Tricia who pushed the three inched heels in front of her. Stefani stepped in gently and buckled the ankle straps until she heard them click shut. It was Richelle who added, "Ooooh, you are something, honey, you look as though you were the CEO at some big corporation or something – nobody is going to make a pass at you while you are driving home. Let's put some of the accessories on you and get you on the road."

Actually, Stefani found herself standing a bit taller, ostensibly to check the length of her slacks with the heels on. But inwardly, she sucked in her gut and admired the flatness that she could get over the total expanse of her bared mid-section – gads, how she loved that.

Oh wow, again, it's more than 25KB and all we got done was to get a business-like slack suit on Stefani. Oh sure, don't forget, she was up only for the weekend and this was probably the first time that she was going out in public dressed en femme, so to speak. Oh sure, she was going to be in full make-up with wig and hair styled, her fingernails would be properly colored and above all, she would have the weight of her own breasts cradled snugly in her bra, it's presence always on her mind – but she would have the protection of her own car – all she had to do was maintain her poise and she'd get home OK. I had to do that one night when I had a make-over appointment at The House of Beauty, then I had to drive over the freeway and then through the streets of the city to my destination. It's a first time feeling that I'll not forget, let me tell you. But Mistress always believed in keeping the pressure on and never let you forget that you were a slut TV slave. But I loved it, absolutely loved it.

They were thorough, Stefani had to give them that. But they only told her what she needed to know, one step at a time. They gave her a last minute check over even to the point of showing her how to carry her purse. They'd drive her over to where her car had been parked, already filled with gas and loaded with her new wardrobe. And within the new purchases would be included the instructions for removing the appliances with the caveat, "Follow instructions to the letter, Stefani. To do otherwise will cause you extreme distress (whatever that means, I read it somewhere when something bad was going to happen to a slave)." That was enough caveat for Stefani.

They put the blinder dark glasses on Stefani, reducing her world to sporadic flashes of lights. She didn't know where she had been and now they were making sure that she didn't know where she was. They removed the dark glasses before she stepped gingerly from the car, forcing herself to act in a proper feminine manner. She could see she was in a shopping center closing up for the evening but then again, all shopping centers look alike now. Dressed as she was, no way was anybody going to approach her for the usual confrontation, besides, most of the passersby were women on their way home from work. She heard as she stood on the sidewalk in full view of the public, "It's 9.45 PM right now, drive to the freeway and head south. At exactly, 10:50, call us, but by that time, you should know where you are but call us anyhow just to let us know that you are all right. And call us first thing when you arrive home. Don't make any unnecessary stops or get out of the car – your shoes are locked on, there is a photo identification card for you as Stefani and TV member of The Club just in case. And there is a portfolio with some souvenirs of your visit. Hope you had a good time, honey, they'll be sending you an itemized bill for all those services and purchases that you made. And call us if there is anything else we can do for you."

Stefani tripped down the street remembering to take those short mincing steps and placing one foot in front of the other, flat footed more so that heel to toe. She was amazed at how much of the training had stuck. She got into the car without incident and drove for the freeway. But she remembered the viaduct but didn't see it on the way back. She found the freeway but it wasn't the same one that she had come on. It took her a bit to adjust to driving in heels but she sluffed it off to just another adjustment she'd have to make if she was going to be a girl. She found herself constantly checking the mirror to see if her make-up was still on. She shifted her position in the seat so as to project her breasts just a bit more – oh sure, she didn't want to be gawked at but at the same time, she wanted everyone to know that she was a girl. She fluffed at her hair just as she had seen the other girls doing during the course of the evening. She tried to maintain her gaze straight ahead and ignoring the looks from the truck drivers – she knew they always looked to see whether the ladies were driving in skirts of slacks. Other cars would slow as they passed her but like I said, she kept her gaze straight ahead. She called at the intersection of the freeways but like they said, she knew where she was by then. And like clockwork, she finally arrived home, well after dark and after the neighborhood had settled down for the night. She punched the garage door opener, wheeled her car in, shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel the tension that she had been under fade away.

She found herself exiting the car in an effeminate manner keeping her legs closed and above all, trying to keep her back sides from becoming overly prominent. Like I said, a lot of that stuff had rubbed off on her. Well, that's all well and good but she had the trunk to unload and honey, there ain't no way that you can do that job gracefully. She worked methodically trying to sort the items coming out of the trunk. She couldn't remember putting it in but she did manage to get the bottles of wine into the kitchen. But however, late it was, she was constantly reminded that she still had the job of getting the boobs off. After all, tomorrow was a work day and she thought he'd have enough problems explaining the plucked eyebrows but explaining the bulges from the breasts was a bit much, don't you think.

Stefani took off the jacket and sonbitch, she couldn't help but admire herself, bare midriff and all. She dialed the number and reported that she had arrived safely home, thank you. They asked about the bottles and added, "Pour yourself a stiff one and congratulate yourself for carrying it off. You did remarkably well, Stefani, keep in touch. And damn if she didn't feel the pride in being able to survive the weekend. She stretched with her arms raised high overhead and squealed in delight as she watched her breasts assume a new prominence, something she had learned just by watching the dancers at The Club. Nobody had told her yet but this becoming a girl was not going to become a bad thing. She couldn't help but pause to admire her new dresses that she had acquired and paused to recall the occasions under which she wore them. She cleared an area in her closet and hung them up somewhat reverently. She folded the bras carefully and matched them to the panties until she recalled that she would have to wash them out after each wearing – they had become laundry that quick.

And there were the heels to be removed. The instructions required her to find a hair pin or like pointed instrument to depress a small button on the buckle. Easy enough. But, eeeeeh, he loved the feel of her breasts dangling free and imparting that pull right where it sent that special feeling down her spine. She gave them an extra jiggle just so that she could savor the feeling. I used to use the foam pads until the lady at the lingerie boutique put me on to the new silicone forms which had the weight to hold the bras in place as well as to have a more natural movement. They were much more pricier but she said that they would be the next best thing to the real thing. She said that they could be set right into the cups for short term wear but for special occasions, the adhesive provided would insure that they would stay in place. She thought that the adhesives would work for four days or more and that once they started to release, that a special solvent should be applied, not only to effect a clean release but to permit reuse of the appliance. She said that she was looking for a model to which she could apply the appliance at the next support group meeting in another city where I wouldn't know anyone and damn, I agreed. She knew how to sell.

I dressed myself and put on full make-up and wig for the session. She was making the presentation along with her daughter and pointed out to the group by commenting on how skillfully I had dressed for the special occasion and applied make-up appropriate to the situation at hand. And sonbitch, I got a hand for my trouble. But she was also skillful in removing my top and baring me right down to the waist. She made note that I was wearing the foam pads and that they were susceptible to unnoticed movement which would be difficult for me to correct without undressing and then went on to promote the advantages of the new appliance.

She took my bra and pads off and cleaned off the area with a special solvent before masking off the nipples and then spraying a thin coat of adhesive right over the application area. And I can still hear her commenting on how perky my nipples had become and laughingly added, "If you're going to be a girl, might as well count your lucky stars."

And while the adhesive was drying across my breasts, she was touting the advantages of the appliance as to its color, natural feel and weight. And of course, she pointed out that it came with different types of nipples which again differed in color and shape. I could see how much interest the appliance had with the group but she didn't go into the history of why the appliance was developed in the first place and why it had to be so expensive. She had a demo model available which she passed around for the audience to feel first hand. And I could see them squeezing it and then nodding their heads in approval as they sort of bounced it around to check it for heft. Some of the more discerning ones paid particular attention to the nipples themselves but that was so crass of them. But within a group like that, you do get all kinds.

She sprayed the hollowed out backs of the appliance and set them aside to dry before continuing all the while maintaining a constant banter with the audience answering questions and the like. She had done this sort of thing before. But she checked the tackiness of the adhesive and had me sit up straight and relaxed. She took an eyeball fix on my nipple and pressed the appliance into place, insuring that all the edges were laying flat. And as her assistant held the first side in place, she applied the second side. I could feel the adhesive setting up and even before she caught my eye, "I heard, "Are you ready, Rachel," and they both released their hands. I immediately felt the weight of the appliance pulling on my chest and instinctively reached up to cradle them. I saw her smiling in my direction and then at the audience and adding, "See, it feels so real that he wants to cradle them just as though they were the real thing." She waited until the audience had settled down and then whispered, "Go ahead, Rachel, take your hands away and let them all see what the appliance can do for your morale not to mention your figure."

I'll not ever forget the feeling of having those breasts projecting from my chest. I could feel even the slightest movement translated to a movement of a breast, even a twitch, and better still, I could make them move by my own body movement. And following instructions, I raised one arm and they could all see one breast lift. The other arm, the other breast. I could lean myself forward and impart a dangle to them, and oh my, it was getting to be good fun. And damn, the two ladies conducting the demo were making sport of me as they took requests from the audience as to the postures that I should assume. When they saw me protesting being made the pawn, they assured me, "Rachel, dear, they like the realism of those breasts, they really think you are a girl with real boobies. It's a compliment, honey." Damn, it made her feel better already.

But they followed through and in the end, I ended up with a much more stylish bra now that they didn't have the job to do of holding the foam pads in place. Rather, they lifted and shaped and squeezed and really made me feel good, even after they put the blouse back on and smoothed it out, like I said, they just like to smooth things out. But they are pricey but well worth the results assuming that you are serious about making the transition and are willing to come out of the closet to join in the festivities.

Stefani had tried to insert a fingernail under the edge of the breast prothesis but really, all she was doing was leaving a red mark where her fingernail had abraded her own skin. Damn, it was tenacious stuff. She could see that it would readily tear her skin off rather than release the bond. It seemed that the adhesive had really seeped down into her pores where it remained flexible but tenacious. She assumed that it was the same with The Kitty II and figured she had better not fiddle with it. But she sort of got a thrill out of letting the boobies dangle unfettered while she continued sorting through the accessories. And she found how easily she could move about without the incumberance between her legs. Yes, sir, this girl thing could really work out for her.

It was while she was sorting the accessories that she came across the 'instructions for removing the physical appliances.' Essentially, the instructions were intended to be used in conjunction with a hot tub but mentioned that with some improvisation, a bath tub would do just so that full immersion of the appliances could be effected. But it also specifically mentioned to refrain from and fiddling with the rings. Disconnect the wires from the rings but leave the rings where they are. Stefani figured no problem, she'd deal with the rings in her own way when she had more time.

She soaked in the tub for an hour or so. Then, she soaked in the tub for another hour or so. And as luck would have it, joila, she accidentally nudged a breast and it literally slid right off of her. The adhesive, so tenacious in it's dry state had virtually dissolved under the warm wetness of the tub. She gave the other side a like nudge. A piece of cake. She disconnected the wires and nudged the rings in the process. She made a mental note that the rings seemed to be imbedded in her nipples flesh. She could see no place on the rings that showed that there was a juncture. She wished that she had paid a bit more attention when the rings were being inserted but then again, she couldn't even remember them doing that to her. It was like a lot of the other things that had happened to her, she remembered some clearly, others she couldn't even remember at all. Like she had thought earlier, she'd meet that problem at a later date. Ha ha, the longer she waits, the more permanent the application would become as the abraded nipple flesh just sort of healed itself around the designed fish-hook projections at the juncture of the rings. Stefani didn't know it at the time but there was no way to get the rings off now without defacing the nipple itself. Now, ain't that a kick in the head. I knew a girl who had had one nipple defaced by a one mean master and honey, you knew that it affected her mentally all the time but we all knew who did it and we never mentioned it to the slave ever. But I tell you, the defaced nipple had lost all of its appeal and that was hard for her to ignore. It really made good slaves out of the rest of us, and honey, I worshipped my Mistress before but believe me, I really worshipped her after that, believe me.

By the time that Stefani had completed all of her chores, it had reached near six AMish. And there was still the nail polish to be removed, no telling how long that would take. And there was that package that she had brought back to be opened. No way was Stefani going to be able to revert back to Stephen in that short time and be able to go to work. He'd have to call in sick and take his chances. But deep in the back of his mind was the promise of The BSers that they would take care of him in the eventuality that he could be losing his job. He was glad that he had sufficient savings to tide him over most situations, besides, he knew how expensive it was to make the transformation. Honey, it's one thing to go out a buy yourself one bra and panty set, but come on, you can't wear the same set day after day after day and expect to stay in styles and wear coordinated outfits. Get real, man, if you want to be a woman, there's a price to be paid, you know what I'm sayin'?

Aw, honey, go buy one set of a bra and panty set on your own and you'll find an absolute need to buy the second set and the third. And in time, they'll send word down that you are to wear nothing but matching and coordinated feminine underwear 24/7 and in no time at all, you will have an accumulation that you will really be proud of. But not only will you find styles and colors changing, you'll find those nipple rings wanting to stand out straight whereas the bra will force them to lay flat against the breast. Not good, not good. Don't ask for advice, especially from your Mistress – just go out and get the bras with the nipple cut outs. Now you're talking, now you're shopping in the right kind of stores, just see how prominently your nipples and those rings are going to stand out. You'll love seeing them like that. You'll be proud to show them off. Then again, maybe not.

Stephen carefully opened the flat package and found that all it was was a large color photo of a showgirl posed in the classic winged victory pose. The caption under it read, "New attraction at The Club – for your entertainment pleasure, we present Stefani." And still more general hype, 'Totally naked inter-active dancing girls – lap and couch dancing. Windowless peeps – B/D scenarios with live models.' But Stephen passed it off with a no further never mind.

Actually, on second thought, Stephen thought the showgirl was gorgeous with all of the glamour normally associated with the naked dancing girls but at that time of the morning, Stephen sluffed it off as something he'd fuss with later when he had the time. She gave it only a passing glance and noted that the model bore a vague resemblance to someone that he knew or had seen during the course of the weekend. There were other eight by tens in smaller groups but that too, could wait closer scrutiny. He called the office to let them know that he wouldn't be coming in and figured he was ready to call it a day and turn in for the night – although it was already ten in the AM.

Rachel reveled in her role as a trainer and the fanmail she was receiving. But damn, some of them were spelling her name wrong, like Rachael, or was it Racheal, damn, that's enough to make one want to change one's name, that's why I spell mine Rachel, besides, that's how my Mistress spelled it and everybody knows, what Mistress says goes, or else, don't you know. But like I said, it was a no never mind. She could look upon the likes of Stephen and grinned within herself – it would take Stephen a long, long time before he could become Stefani what with his small tittedness and the noassatall. Well, maybe with the silicone implants making a somewhat comeback, maybe it would take only a long time (that's as contrasted to a long, long time, if you missed that a couple of lines ago). But The BSers were ever watchful of their trainees and forever subjecting them to new experiences. Oh sure, she had heard of herself referred to as chattel but it was Patti, (oh, you remember Patti from way back) who casually mentioned, "Sure, chattel and you have your very own SKU number, (that's Stock Keeping Unit, don't you know). oh, did I mention that The BSers quite often lease or sell or trade their chattels just like the merchandise that you are). It also serves as a constant reminder that you are their slave and prevents you from getting a big head, you know what I'm sayin'?"

Patti continued her ramblings, "I saw one of the regular Mistresses talking to The BSers just the other day and I thought I heard them talking about you, Rachel. The BSers have auctions regularly to rid themselves of dancing girls who have become low producers or outlived their usefulness around here but have too much left in them to be assigned to the, oh you know, the pimps. And ofttimes, they auction off new stock just to rid themselves of the training time. Honey, you have never been felt up until you have to stand for the pre-auction merchandise inspection. You wouldn't believe how many and where they can leave their fingerprints on you. But sometimes, The BSers make back-room deals and put the stock up for auction just as a formality." Rachel was just as glad that Patti had to leave the room.

And indeed, it was a day later and Stephen had regained most of his senses. At least sense enough to know that he could not make an appearance down at the office the next day or for that matter, ever again. He recalled the discussion of 'not to worry, Stephen, we can always find a place for you in our organization' and thought it might be time to take them up on their offer. He received some advice from the employment counselor and followed through. He wrote his letter of resignation and asked that his personal belongings be sent to his home. He let it be known in the neighborhood that he would be taking a job assignment overseas and that he was asking his sister to come live in the house during his absence. He could feel the immediate relief that the major decisions had been made for him.

He glanced at the photo of the showgirl and worked his mind as to where he had seen her before. It was much later in the day that 'booing,' it came to him. And upon closer analysis of her facial features, he reached near panic stage as he realized that it was he himself, dressed in drag, no not drag, that's like impersonating a female or something like that, the photo was for real. Oh sure, they had to have superimposed his head on another body to get that effect. He looked at some of the smaller eight by tens, same thing, same lovely face, gorgeous body. The poses however lacked the glamour of the showgirl shot what with him trying to contort his body and making the futile effort to conceal his charms with his hands. But wait, wait, he could see the gentle swells of his breasts and hot damn, where he should have seen some of it, there wasn't any of it. He had to take another quick swig from the bottle.

And it began to come back to him. He could recall being shot in that particular pose and being chided by the female director that it was so difficult to hide behind just two hands – so much to hide, so little hands . . . You can say that again. He leafed through the remaining pics, same theme, same face, same body – but who's.

The high techers down at the photo lab grinned each time they performed the computer projections on their new applicants. What the hey, no sense in spending a lot of time on applicants who have absolutely no chance of achieving their goals – in this case, a totally naked dancing girl, if you will. Hey, don't laugh, go to a support meeting and you'll see some gorilla whose full time job is a tackle with the local pro football team – wants to look like a cheer leader. So with the aid of the computer, they are able to apply that layer of fat which softens the outline of the body, supplementing where necessary (that's like adding the boobies and rounding out the ass and conversely, deleting the extraneous parts) and smoothing out the facial features and joila, a photo image of what their trainee was going to look like, if everything else went well. There was no question that Stephen was going to become a winner. They liked to start with the Rachel's – boyish good looks, slim build, supple body, you know the type.

Swell, wasn't that just swell.

  

  

  

*********************************************
© 2003 by Rachel. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, and compilation design) may be printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without the express written consent of StorySite and the copyright holder.