Crystal's StorySite


Modeling Lingerie in France

by Lexie Byrd



My parents died in a car crash when I was sixteen, leaving me neither with siblings nor much in the way of other relations beyond my Aunt Agathe, who lived in a large house outside London. My parents and I had I had never really been close to her, though she seemed friendly enough to me. I didn’t really understand what my parents found so wrong with her, but I heard them whispering amongst themselves about a lesbian lover and something fishy Agathe was involved with involving a wealthy divorcé in France. When I asked my parents about Aunt Agathe, I never got a clear story. They always found some way to change the subject.

I moved into Aunt Agathe’s house over Christmas holidays, and transferred to a local private school at the same time.

I was a fairly average sort of boy, good in academics but very poor in sports on account of my rapid growth. I was quite thin, and looked undeveloped. This made me defensive about my appearance, prone to feel picked on, and prone to lash out when criticised.

Naturally, this was not a very endearing combination in a sixteen-year old. I suspect this is why I never seemed to get off right with Aunt Agathe.

She disliked my interest in cars and motors, and disliked my few chums at school. The only thing we had in common was we were both very particular about appearances, and tidy in our habits. Only the sort of appearance I tried to cultivate was copied from my more popular classmates, whom she found boorish and intolerable.

It was some three months after I’d gone to live with my aunt that things began to reached their low point. I’d gotten into a scrape at school for painting some rude comments on a classmate’s locker, and I’d been sent home with a note from the headmaster ordering a brief suspension about a month before the Easter holidays.

I had thought the incident had blown over when I returned to school, but I was wrong. I had seriously underestimated my Aunt, and her questionable friends from France.

At the start of the Easter holidays my aunt called me in for a talk about our deteriorating relationship.

"It just isn’t working Jens," she stated, "I’ve never enjoyed male company and to have a young man living in my house is just too much. You are disobedient, troublesome, and cheeky. You’ll just have to go back to boarding school."

This stunned me. She knew how much I’d hated being away from home and how, in the end, my parents had removed me from my last school just before their accident. The headmaster had even stated that I was not cut out for boarding school.

"Please Aunt Agathe, not boarding school, please. I’ll do anything you want, but please don’t send me away, I beg you." I was on the verge of tears. She came and sat next to me, put her arm round my shoulders and dabbed at my eyes with a lace hankie.

"It’s not you as such, Jens, it’s just because you are so boyish. To be quite honest with you, I’m of lesbian leanings and I find male company hateful to me. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to go."

I broke down completely, tears running down my face, my shoulders heaving as I sobbed. I knelt at her feet and begged her not to do this to me. I didn’t notice the fleeting smile of success that crossed her beautiful face. I only dimly heard her say musingly, "Well, perhaps Jens, perhaps there is just a possibility that you could continue living with me, but I don’t think that you would like it."

I was clutching at straws, "Anything, Aunty, anything. I’ll do whatever you want of me, I promise."

"Let me think it over, Jens, now go to your room."

I obeyed immediately. I was not going to give her any cause for complaint. About an hour later she came into my bedroom. "We’ll give it a week’s trial, Jens, but if you disobey me or complain just once that will be it."

The hour in my room had hardened my resolve not to go back to boarding school. I was willing to do anything! "Thank you Aunty, I promise I will be good."

"Right, this is not going to be easy for either of us. You will get all of your clothes packed into suitcases and place them in the attic and that includes the ones that you are wearing now. Get on with it."

She expressed herself in a domineering tone and strode from the room without a backward glance after she had spoken. I did as I was told, I was so frightened of incurring her anger. Halfway through my packing she came in with a white terrycloth robe, and said "Put this on, Jens. When you’ve finished carrying your things up to the attic, come join me in my bathroom." I lugged the cases up into the attic and went downstairs again. "I’ve run a bath for you, now give me your robe."

I shyly handed her the garment and stepped into the heavily perfumed water, slick with bath oils. I gasped as the heat enfolded me. I washed with scented soap as she looked on. I felt embarrassed to be naked in front of her and started to flush.

"Hurry up, Jens, we haven’t got all day." I stepped out of the bath and she dried me with a big fluffy towel which was as pink as my blushing skin. She then patted me all over with a perfumed talcum powder and ordered me into the bedroom, saying. "That’s better, you don’t smell like a boy."

As we entered I saw my reflection in the mirrored doors of her wall-length wardrobe. Although I was 16 years old and fairly tall, I was of slim build and delicate features. I was in a difficult way getting clothes: too tall at 5'11" for boys’ trousers, but with a 28" waist too thin for mens’. I seemed to have grown up without having grown out: the high cheekbones of my face were made juvenile by a relatively small nose and mouth that even my thick eyebrows couldn’t help look more mature. My high forehead was framed by full blond hair that almost reached the middle of my ears from a center part. This Aubrey Beardsley sort of look was the longest hair school would allow, though I had hopes Aunty would let me grow it longer over the summer.

"Here are your new clothes, darling," she said pointing at her bed. I was dumbfounded: after a moment’s pause to examine the unfamiliar objects she had arrayed on the pink satin coverlet, I realised she had laid me out a complete girl’s outfit!

"Whilst you are in my company in future you will wear girls clothes! I will not see you before you go to school in the morning and as soon as you return in the afternoon you will go straight to your room and change before joining me. Now do you wish to change your mind?"

I was between the devil and the deep: boarding school or girl’s clothes. "No, no," I stammered, "but what about when your housekeeper returns from her holidays?"

"She’ll not mind," was the retort. "It’s your decision, now make up your mind, Jens." I could not speak: I just nodded my head.

"Good, now let’s get you dressed."

In retrospect, I now realise that she must have had this planned for a long time as everything was brand new and fitted me perfectly. She stood in front of me and looped the white lacy bra over my head so that the cups rested against my back, then fastened the ends and spun the bra around my chest, then had me raise my arms through the straps, and then padded out each cup out with a pair of soft, flesh-coloured panties. "Darling, you’ll find it easier to do it this way, at least for now. You should do the same with this," she said as she gently wrapped a matching suspender belt around my waist and hooked the ends together, then spun it around.

"It won’t take long for you to learn how to do this for yourself the right way, darling. With a little practice and some stretching exercise you will soon get the flexibility you need to hook your bra together behind your back." Her words sounded warm, but I got a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I sat on the cool satin coverlet as she opened a packet of pale tan silk stockings and rolled them up my legs and then fastened them to the beribboned garters. She handed me a pair of lace trimmed white French knickers and instructed me to put them on. As I stepped first into one leg and then the other, my suspenders pulled gently at my stockings. As I straightened up the soft nylon whispered against the silk of my stockings. I gingerly pulled them up over my knees and thighs into place around buttocks and hips. I shivered at the sensation of the soft material as it touched my skin.

"Hold out your arms, Jens," she said rolling up the virgin white slip, like the knickers, lavishly embellished with lace both at the hem and bust. She slipped it over my head and let it fall down my body. The slight tug of nylon at my chest, warm in its brassiere, followed by the cool softness of the nylon slip rolling down my exposed torso was so unexpected a sensation it threw my mind into turmoil.

I looked at my reflection in the mirrors as the cool softness of the slip enveloped my body. The lace cups of the slip — my new slip — covered the soft mounds of my false bosom; the imprint of the lace trim on my knickers and the lacy hems of my pale tan silk stockings were just barely visible on the glistening surface of the slip. The sight of veiled layers of feminine ornamentation almost made me shiver again, and suddenly I felt mortified — I was becoming excited by being dressed as a girl!

"Stop admiring your pretty lingerie, Jens, we’ve got a long way to go." If it could have been possible I would have blushed even more — Aunty knew! As it was, my edges of my virgin white underclothes made a racy contrast against the hot pink of my skin. As she instructed, I sat down before her dressing table, the satin bench cool and slick on my nylon-clad buttocks. As if it were the most commonplace thing in the world, my aunt started to make me up. As she worked on my face she told me in a matter-of-fact tone that teenage girls, for that was what she considered me to be, only wore small amounts of make up. "Just a touch of eye shadow, blusher to highlight the cheek bones, the softest touches of face powder on each cheek, and finally a delicate pink lipstick. It must look easy and almost natural — and you aren’t really completely dressed without it."

I placed my hands and arms into the pale pink lacy blouse and sat patiently while she buttoned it up the back. The frilly high collar caressed my neck and throat. The matching frilly cuffs were fastened about my slim wrists; their white mother-of-pearl buttons glistened brightly. As I stood I looked at myself: although the pale pink blouse reached my hips and looked so pretty against the skirt of my slip, I still thought I could see the imprint of the lace trim atop my panty-padded breasts.

I stepped into the white chiffon pleated skirt that was soon fastened about my waist. As I did so the gentle tug of my garters on my stockings reminded me of my lacy suspender belt. Aunt Agathe reached up under my skirt to pull my blouse into position making me flinch as the backs of her hands touched my nylon encased genitals.

Again seated she placed my feet into pink sandals that exactly matched the colour of my blouse and then raised me to my feet. The 2-inch heels pushed me slightly forward, however I quickly learned to compensate for this. She stepped back and looked at me critically, "Jens darling, I’m really delighted. I’ve got a niece instead of a nephew. You look beautiful, my dear. You are so pretty I could kiss you!"

With this she took me into her arms and held me to her, kissing me first on my cheeks and then on my lips. I was quite thrilled at her words, in spite of my anxiety and embarrassment. This was almost the first time that she had expressed any affection at all towards me.

Then she stepped back and told me to walk round the room. With hesitant steps, I obeyed. At each step I could feel the hem of my slip and skirt rub against my silken clad knees and the insistent tug of garters on stockings. I wobbled slightly on my unaccustomed heels and as I looked at my reflection there was just one item of my appearance that was not in accord with the way that I was dressed. My hair! In a reflex action my hand went to my head. Aunt Agathe laughed softly.

"Come here, darling, and sit down. We’ll soon correct that."

From her dressing table drawer she took a most enchanting blonde wig that exactly matched my own hair. As she pinned my hair up she mused. "Perhaps if we let you grow your hair longer, Jens, we could have it trimmed in a different way and then just blow dry it into shape. We’ll just have to see how you get on during the next few weeks."

"My God!" I thought to myself, "Must I do this until summer to keep out of boarding school? How will I able to hang out with my friends?" But the thought of Aunt Agathe’s caresses made me determined to avoid doing anything that could get me sent away.

When she was satisfied, I turned to view myself. It seemed to be perfect: it was short, only just touching the frilly collar of my blouse, framing my face with its soft wavy curls. As I looked at my newly made-up face, I could not help smiling nervously at my new self: my pink shiny lips parted to show my even white teeth, my blue eyes seemed to glow even more under the highlight of the pale blue eye shadow.

Aunt Agathe placed her hands on my shoulders and smiled at my reflection. In spite of my trepidation, I could not help widening my smile at the sign of her approval as she said, "I’m so happy Jens, and I can see that you are, too. This could make a lot of difference in our relationship, if you can keep it up. Now let’s put your new clothes into your bedroom. "

As she started to place my new underwear in my dressing table drawers she remarked, "I’ve only bought you white lingerie for this probationary period. But if you progress to my satisfaction I’ll get you some really pretty frillies. For now, you’ve got three pairs of French knickers, a spare bra and suspender belt, camisole top, waist slip and three pairs of stockings."

"Now darling, what do you think of these?" she held up a waltz length nightdress and negligee again embellished with soft lace and satin ribbons. "Do you like my choice?"

I wasn’t going to be caught out. "They are so pretty Aunty, thank you." In addition to the undies there was the outerwear. White sandals, a white lacy blouse, pale pink pleated chiffon skirt and a pair of fluffy pink bedroom mules completed my new ensemble.

Taking my hand in hers, she steadied me as we walked down the stairs. I felt a little helpless, I wobbled so. But I steadied when we reached the floor below, and Aunty complimented me on my surer gait.

After Aunty opened a bottle of champagne — the first she had ever opened for me — we sat next to each other on the sofa. She showed me how to seat myself properly by slipping my hands beneath my thighs to keep my dress from getting wrinkled and keeping my knees demurely together as I lowered myself to my seat. I felt relieved to have sat down properly; still, my soft skirt felt so unaccustomed as I draped it over my silken-clad knees. Deep down, did I really want my clothes to look and feel so light and feminine, as she said they must?

She raised her glass, "To my new niece, Jeannette."

I didn’t dare contradict her. It was all I could do to smile back a bit sheepishly. I must say that I felt more like Jeannette than Jens dressed as I was in this finery, and I wasn’t sure quite sure then how much my humiliation at being made to dress so girlishly could be overcome by my aunt’s newly-expressed affection. But then, my aunt must have realised she held the emotional trump card when she discovered that I would do anything to keep from being sent back to boarding school.

I realised I was deeply relieved I could stay, even if I had obey my aunt and dress as I did. If my obedience brought me closer to Aunty, so much the better: I felt so alone in the world after my parents died. As I sipped my drink, my new lipstick left a crescent-shaped mark on the rim of the glass, reminding me of my newly ordained femininity.



The next few days passed swiftly as I entered my new role of Jeannette. I was instructed in how to fasten the unaccustomed foundation garments about my body, how to make myself up, walk in a feminine manner, eat delicately and in general, act as a lady ought. I had to wash both my and Agathe’s delicate lingerie and then, when dry, iron it all and place it back in the dressing table drawers amongst the perfumed sachets. I had to bathe twice a day, in water softened with subtly scented oils. My skin grew softer and more girlish with every immersion.

The change in our relationship was remarkable. Agathe no longer spoke to me harshly. She constantly praised me and, in general, was a loving, sensitive companion. Whenever I felt depressed she seemed to know and went out of her way to comfort me, holding me to her bosom and kissing me softly. Near the end of my first week dressed as a girl we went for a drive. She showed me how to enter the car so that my skirt would not ride up and show too much leg.

After we drove about thirty miles Aunt Agathe said, "I don’t expect that you’ll want any of your school friends to see you." I agreed hurriedly, though I must admit that I’d now got so used to being in skirts I’d forgotten that I’d look most unusual to anyone who knew me as Jens. I was nervous when we stopped at a small country restaurant for lunch but when I realised that nobody was paying any attention to me I soon relaxed: the three glasses of wine Agathe poured me no doubt helped!

After lunch we drove into London and parked near the Kensington High Street shopping area. Aunty said, "Come on darling, I’m going to take you shopping.

We walked down the road together, the soft breeze caressing my legs, making my skirt flutter prettily. We entered a department store and with the aid of the assistant at the Dior counter chose a complete array of cosmetics that suited my complexion including ‘Miss Dior’ perfume and nail polish. I must say that I loved the attention the pretty assistant poured out on me the most. I felt a different sort of nervous excitement at the thought of trying out all the things Aunt Agathe bought for me later on. The colours were so bold! Could I get away with looking so feminine?

We then visited the dress department where Aunty picked out two gorgeous dresses and told me to follow her into the changing rooms.

"What if anyone should come in Aunty?" I said nervously as I slipped out of my blouse and skirt. "Don’t be silly, darling, you’d fool anybody."

I tried on the first dress which was a soft pink dress with a fitted bodice in satin and a flared skirt of floaty chiffon. The fit was fine except that it was very tight at the waist.

"That’s fine, darling, a few inches off the waist and you’ll be the belle of the ball." I looked at Aunt Agathe in surprise. Where would she expect me to go, and what would she do about my waist?

The second dress was of pale blue jersey, and clung to my body, was again just that little bit too embracing but Agathe was adamant that was the one for me. I knew better than to argue and just agreed.

"We’ve just got time to buy you some new shoes to match your new dresses, Jeannette. Just remember to keep your legs together and not let the assistant peek up your skirt."

I joined in her gay laughter and sat patiently as she tried on pair after pair. She finally settled on two pairs, one of pale blue suede the other of pale pink satin both with open toes and 3-inch heels. As I looked at her striding about the shop I wondered how on earth I was going to manage to walk in those.

As we left the shop the doors were locked behind us: it was now 6:30.

"Back to the car now, Aunt Agathe?"

"Yes darling, I expect you are dying to try out your new cosmetics and dresses and shoes!"

I was about to force myself to reply in the affirmative when she stopped. "Look at that Jeannette, all that gorgeous lingerie." She had stopped outside a window full of dreamy undies. I could feel myself colouring slightly as she admired the little items of satin and lace.

"Come along, Jeannette," Just as she was about to enter the shop, a young girl came out and said, "Sorry Madame, but we’re just closing." The relief I felt was only temporary as Agathe said, "I do in fact have an appointment with Madame Cecile."

"Of course, she is waiting inside for you, please go in." As she held the door open for us she smiled knowingly at me and whispered "I’m sure you’ll be delighted, Miss!" This time I did blush madly for I was positive that she knew me to be a boy. She locked the door behind me with a loud click as I followed my aunt into the boutique.

My aunt greeted a very smartly dressed lady with a kiss, and then turned to introduce me. "This is my niece, Jeannette. Madame Cecile was responsible for providing your first trousseau of lingerie, darling."

Madame Cecile stepped forward and took my hands in hers. "So this is Jeannette. You do look pretty my dear, such a lovely complexion and a trim figure." She kissed me lightly on the lips. "I would never have believed that you could have effected such a transformation in under a week, Agathe." I was mortified she knew I was a boy. No wonder that girl at the door had given me such a knowing look! Madame Cecile laughed at my horrified expression.

"Jeannette, my sweet, if I had not known I would never guessed that you are a boy under that blouse and skirt and what I know to be such very pretty undies."

I just wished that the floor would open up under me.

"Come my dears, I’ll drive and my chauffeuse will bring your car." We were soon driving into the grounds of a large house in the suburbs. As we exited Madame Cecile’s Daimler saloon, the front door of the house opened and we were welcomed inside by a tall lady in a black satin trouser suit.

Cecile introduced me: "Sara this is the pretty Jeannette, Jeannette this is Sara, my business partner and lover. "

I was greeted with a kiss on both cheeks. Taking my hand, Sara took me up the house stairs into a beautiful boudoir. "I’m so looking forward to this evening, Jeannette, we’ve some super treats for you. I must say when Agathe told me of her plan I was skeptical, but I’m so glad I’ve been proven wrong."

"Yes," said Agathe, "I’m delighted. I’m confident that if Jeannette can carry it off tonight nothing more need be said about boarding school."

Suddenly I felt quite delirious. "Thank you, Aunt Agathe, thank you!" I ran to her and kissed her sweet lips. I was determined to go through with whatever the arrangements were for this evening. I would not, must not jeopardize my future. In my excitement I almost missed the victorious looks that passed between the three of them, but I was too happy to care.

We all sat down on the lavender satin covered sofas in the boudoir whilst a maid poured champagne for us all. After the maid hung up my new dresses and placed a number of packages at my feet, she was dismissed.

"A toast to Jeannette," said Sara, "the prettiest of shemales." I opened my eyes wide at them all in surprise: I had never heard the word before. What were they leading to? But I soon forgot my misgivings in the pleasures of the moment.

Agathe said, "Yes, Jeannette, don’t look so surprised. Smile and join in!" I smiled with them and joined in the toast. Agathe nodded approvingly, as the other women all smiled brightly back at me.

"Jeannette has done everything I’ve asked of her and I know it hasn’t been easy for her. Darling, just walk about and show our friends how well you’ve mastered some of the feminine arts."

I so relieved at the women’s approval that I was happy to oblige: I tripped across the room as girlishly as possible. As I approached the door I turned I did a twirl, allowing the pleats of my skirt to float up prettily. They clapped and raised their glasses to me.

"Sit down darling, and see what we’ve got for you," said Cecile. She passed me a bag with the boutique’s name on it and I opened it. WOW! It was the most gorgeous, glamorous matching slip and French knickers in pale pink satin with just oodles of cream lace frills and trim. I gushed, "Oh they are incredibly beautiful, thank you." Even to my ears I sounded like a teenage girl, but what the heck? I had learned enough about clothes to appreciate the taste and effort to select these gifts, and even if I was being driven deeper and deeper into a girl’s way of life, I simply would rather have died than go back to boarding school.

Package after package followed, bras, suspender belts, briefs, lace-trimmed slips, frilly bouffant waist slips, camisoles, camiknickers, floor length nightdress, negligee and finally the piece de resistance — a basque, again in pink satin with lace trim at the bustline and hem. I jumped to my feet, went over to them and kissed them all.

"Thank you so much, they are so pretty and delicate."

"Whilst you are on your feet darling, you might as well get undressed, we’ve got a lot to do yet!"

Obediently, but with a little trepidation, I slipped out of my skirt and blouse, followed by my camisole, waist slip, and stockings. Then I unclasped my suspender belt and withdrew it from under my French knickers. Surely this was as far as I had to go? But as I looked pleadingly towards Aunt Agathe I realised I was wrong. I tried to look poised as I stepped slowly and daintily out of my knickers and placed them with the rest of my intimate apparel, but my face reddened with mortification.

"You flush quite prettily," observed Sara as I stood naked before them my hands clasped over my genitalia.

"Put your hands at your side Jeannette and come over to me," murmured Cecile as I stood in front of her she ran her warm hands over my torso and legs. "Just a little body hair but we’ll soon dispose of that."

Cupping my scrotum, she said, "Not too badly endowed either." Cecile gently caressed me, half-arousing me, much to the delight of the others. Turning to Agathe, Cecile suggested she might wish to rest and leave me to their tender care. Agathe came over and kissed on the mouth, warning me, sotto voce: "Now remember Jeannette, you are to do everything required of you and no argument."

I was taken into the bathroom where my body was covered in a thick cream with a sulphurous smell that could not be masked by its perfume. After about ten minutes wait, they rinsed the cream off in the shower. As it went down the drain, so did almost all of my my body hair with the exception of the area around my pubes, which had been spared, but not for long. Sara produced a pair of pointed hair salon scissors from a bathroom cabinet and cut my bush very short with more dexterity than I though possible with blades so long.

Then she took out some implements I had never seen used before: a long straight razor, a shaving brush and a cup of shaving soap. I felt bemused when she wet the brush and swirled it around the in the cup until the cup was filled with foam. Then she turned to me and started to work the foam into my newly-sheared bush until my pubes were covered with stiff lather and my member became half erect. Then she turned and opened up the razor and said, "we must all make sacrifices for the sake of love and beauty." But surely she wasn’t going to use that razor on me!

I had never shaved or been shaved before: I was too petrified to speak or even move as she expertly sculpted the edges of my bush into a heart shape. I looked at myself in the mirror. Except for the small heart around my member, I was completely hairless from the neck down. Even the sparse hair on my testicles and penis had been removed, leaving them pink and babyish, as she revealed to me as she cupped my genitals in her hand and ran her ruby-nailed fingertip along my member and around my bush.

"You must always keep yourself looking well groomed, Jeannette. Not every day can we help you do it, much as you might like us to," she added, noting my excitement at her ministrations with a laugh.

The women drew a scented bath. After I had soaked a bit, they followed it with an application of perfumed body lotion which, when applied to my genitals, once again brought the expected reaction, causing them much merriment.

Back in the bedroom, the three affixed a pair of gel-filled breast forms to my chest with a special adhesive. Then Sara professionally put make-up on the joint between the forms and my skin. As I breathed my new breasts rose and fell as though real; their pretty pink nipples glistened realistically.

Sara pushed my testicles up into my abdomen, placed my penis in a tight but soft latex sheath which was strapped back between my legs and pulled up tightly between my buttocks. The thin sides over my hips held me tightly as they plunged to a ‘V’ impossibly deeply between my legs. The flesh coloured material blended well with the colour of my skin at the juncture of my thighs, giving me a decidedly feminine outline highlighted by my newly trimmed pubic hair in the base of the ‘V’ of what I was informed was my new gaff.

Then they fitted my new basque to my body: as they fastened the hooks and eyes behind my back, the stays compressed my waist until I could hardly breathe. The satin felt beautifully smooth on my hairless torso and the pretty lace cups held my new bosom to me tightly.

"Now you’ve got a super figure, Jeannette," said Sara. "Just look at those lovely nipples."

I managed to smile at her observations. She was in fact quite correct: the dark pink nipples peeking through the softened cream lace did look gorgeous.

"Thank you both very much," I murmured shyly.

I sat on the dressing table bench, the stays of my basque squeezing me even more, but somehow I found myself relishing the feeling. Cecile painted my toe nails with my new nail polish whilst Sara manicured my fingernails and then fixed false nails to them and applied more of the pretty polish. They looked fantastic and so lady-like as they gleamed through the white silk of my new stockings as I drew them slowly and carefully up my smoothly depilated legs. I fastened them to the ruched suspenders, stepped into the glamorous French knickers which whispered as they passed lightly over the silk.

Sara and Cecile gently smoothed them over my buttocks, I could not refrain from wriggling deliciously to the touch of the satin. My shoes were fitted to my feet, the pink nail polish visible through the sheer silk of my stockings in the open toed pink satin 4-inch high heels. They each held a hand as I stood up rather unsteadily. However, after almost a week of walking in heels, I soon adapted to my new posture with my pelvis tilted and buttocks poking out and after a couple of steps I was sashaying around the room as though I’d been born to them. My tight corset feminized my gait just as much as the higher heels: I found myself taking smaller steps than ever before, and swinging my hips girlishly almost in spite of myself.

They clapped their hands in glee. "Jeannette, you look fantastic. Now come on, let’s see you in your pretty new slip."

They let the slip fall down over my head and body, my arms passing through the double rouleau straps. It fitted me superbly. The lace frills dancing on my knees and the bodice just covering the cups of my basque. The satin panels gleamed in the light as I turned this way and that to admire my reflection.

I was made up much more elaborately than ever before, using all of my new cosmetics and prior to donning my new dress they spritzed me with ‘Miss Dior’ perfume on my wrists, neck, breasts, hair and after lifting my slip at the juncture of my thighs.

"You never know darling, when a girl might need to smell especially beautiful down there," giggled Sara much to Cecile’s amusement. My hair or should I say my wig having already been brushed and lacquered was further ornamented with a pretty pink velvet bow.

They now both helped me don my new dress, needless to say with my basque pulling in my waist it now fitted me perfectly. The chiffon overlay highlighted the bodice, the high collar making my neck look slender, my arms slim through the sheer sleeves. At the waist a cream four inch wide satin ribbon belt with a bow at the front emphasised my womanly figure, the streamers bright on the pale pink chiffon skirt that floated dreamily down to my silk clad knees. The deep frill of my slip making it stand out from the taffeta underskirt which rustled softly whenever I moved.

Just then, Aunt Agathe entered the room as she looked at me her beautiful mouth broke into a smile of sheer delight.

"Oh darling, you look fabulous. "And then the stereo was turned on and we all danced together. She took me into her arms and held me to her bosom kissing my lips softly stroking me. I felt marvelous clasped to her, our perfumes mingling with sensuous satin rustling on my body. She released me laughing sweetly, "My, I will have to be careful that I don’t get carried away!"

She presented me with a gold chain with a heart shaped locket on engraved with the words, ‘Jeannette, my favourite niece’ which was fastened about my throat and a slim gold chain that was placed round my right ankle. I then walked about the room showing off slightly spinning so that my dress and slip flared up about my thighs.

Aunt Agathe, like Cecile, was dressed in a masculine cut black satin trouser suit and we watched as Sara attired herself in a dark blue basque lacy slip and sheath-like matching cocktail dress that looked gorgeous on her voluptuous figure. When she made up, the four of us tripped downstairs to the drawing room where the other four guests were waiting.

I was introduced to our guests: Sally, who was Agathe’s date, a sophisticated lady in a turquoise cocktail dress; Toni, a charming if somewhat more masculine lady, in a satin trouser suit; with her companion, Penelope, a very attractive young girl with firm breasts pressing against a sheer white silk blouse over an emerald green flared skirt complementing her magnificent red hair. I suddenly realised that she was the girl that we’d met leaving Cecile’s lingerie boutique and as she leaned forward to kiss my cheek she whispered, "I helped choose your pretty scanties for you, Jeannette!"

Needless to say, I coloured slightly but turned to be introduced to my escort for the evening, a very masculine looking lady named Fillippa, who I noticed was wearing a man’s dinner jacket cut to her figure: the buttons were on the right.

We had a superb dinner with good conversation flowing just like the wine and then the stereo was turned on and we all danced together. That is: the suited ladies danced with the petticoated girls.

I enjoyed being held by Agathe, Toni and Sara but did not enjoy the attention paid to me by Fillippa. During the slow numbers she held me so very tightly to her, rubbing up against me and pressing her thigh between mine.

I did dearly wish that I could have been in Penelope’s arms instead: she was so pretty. Her pert breasts and firm nipples shone through her blouse, arousing me in my tightly pantied genital region.

All in all it was a wonderful evening and I was quite sorry when it was time to leave for home. I chatted animatedly to Aunt Agathe as she drove, girlishly excited after my first grown up dinner party. She came into my room to help me undress, unclasping my basque and slipping on my new nightdress, she finally managed to interrupt my silly gushing.

"Jeannette my darling, I’m really very proud of you, those that didn’t know really thought of you as a girl in fact, Fillippa wanted a date."

"Oh Aunty, you didn’t say yes did you?"

"No, you silly, anyway she is not interested in what you’ve got."

She had been holding me in her arms stroking me softly, my body in its pretty pink nightdress pressed up against hers and now she looked down pointedly. My masculinity had made itself obvious pushing out my satin skirt. I was ashamed of this and flushed.

"Sweetheart, it’s only natural, just lie on the bed and I’ll help release your tensions for you."

She picked up my newly discarded satin knickers, lifted the hem of my nightie to my waist and wrapped the cool soft material around my rampant penis gently massaging me. It was a fantastic sensation which within moments had me gasping as I erupted into the satin and lace then she kissed me sweetly and said, "Sleep tight Jeannette, my darling and don’t forget to wash your knickers in the morning!"



The rest of the Easter vacation passed quickly, and when her housekeeper returned she didn’t even raise an eyebrow. In fact, she was pleased to have my help washing and ironing of our lingerie!

I was sad when the first day of term came, though I knew it must. It was quite a change to dress in my school clothes again. I wasn’t too happy with the roughness of my underwear and trousers on my depilated body. Aunt Agathe wrote a note to school to say that I was not to take part in games, as my sculpted pubic hairs would have caused no end of comment in the showers! As it was, the other boys in class seemed so abrupt and unmannerly around me I didn’t linger with them after school.

In spite of the fact I was wearing the same sort of boy’s clothes I’d worn to school for years, my wool flannel trousers and harshly starched white shirt chafed my skin so much I almost enjoyed dashing home to change into my girl’s clothes or two new additions to my wardrobe: a tennis dress with frilly panties and a hot pink bathing costume with keyhole midriff and detachable skirt.

We were fortunate enough to have both a private court and pool. Aunt Agathe played tennis and swam well, and under her tutelage I both improved my serve and learned to play as she did: like a lady with a deadly backhand. At the pool, she both insisted I swim with a smoother stroke but also that I learn to comport myself at poolside as she did. I worried what sort of tan lines I would be showing as spring turned to summer.

I discovered Aunt Agathe had taken subscriptions to three teen magazines for me: ‘19,’ ‘Bliss,’ and ‘Sugar.’ At first I didn’t like them, but then I realised that I would have to continue to please my aunt if I wished to avoid boarding school. So I started reading them after doing my homework. I decided ‘19’ was probably the best of the lot; the rest were too childish. But they did open my eyes to how much effort went into looking attractive, and what a pleasure it was to look well in othre people’s eyes. Perhaps that helped me make it through the next few weeks with Aunt Agathe.

She turned out to have a very active interest in what girls found appealing, and we ended up talking about what I had read in my new magazines. I welcomed her attention, and started to pore over each issue in order to have something to talk with her about.

In the meantime, my social skills with guys languished. Outside school, I had no social existence as Jens. I had cut myself off entirely from my friends after school hours. I dared not invite them home as Aunt Agathe had made it clear that whilst in the house I was to dress and present myself only as a young lady.

At home during the week I just padded out my brassiere and didn’t wear nail polish but on Friday nights I would glue my false breasts to my chest and my false nails to my finger tips. As I dressed for dinner I would take great pains to make my face up just right and if I presented myself especially well, might be rewarded Saturday or Sunday by being taken out for a movie in an outlying town.

If I was remained well in character as Jeannette, I would even be allowed out of the house to go shopping with Aunt Agathe.

A new French teacher had joined the school staff and extra French lessons became all the rage as she was so beautiful. She was an excellent sportswoman and one day asked if it would be possible to use my aunt’s grass court. Thinking quickly, I explained that my aunt was a recluse and would not allow it. She seemed to accept this and I thought I’d gotten away with it. Was I wrong! When I got home that Friday evening her car was in the drive. I dashed upstairs and changed. Then I waited anxiously in my room until I heard the teachger’s car go before I went downstairs to join my aunt.

My aunt was grinning from ear to ear.

"I’m surprised you didn’t join us, Jeannette."

"I dared not, Aunt Agathe. I’d still got my school uniform on. By the way, what did she want?"

"She is going to join us for a game of tennis in the morning, my dear."

"Us," I gasped, "Us?"

"Yes sweetheart, us. Sally is, as usual, coming for the weekend so we’ll be able to play doubles, for a change."

I was horrified and pleaded, "Please don’t make me play. Let me stay in my room, I’ll be so ashamed."

"Don’t be silly. She will never recognise you. You act completely differently dressed as a girl. Now not another word or else!"

Meekly, I obeyed her warning but inwardly I was scared stiff. At dinner, Sally put me somewhat at my ease by saying at our first meeting at Sara’s and Cecile’s she had not guessed I was a boy.

I slept fitfully. On Saturday morning I glued on my breast forms, applied my false nails and then dressed in my tennis outfit with a great deal of care. I made up lightly, put my gold necklace on to add to my feminine look, and joined them on the court. Aunt Agathe introduced me as her niece Jeannette. Much to my relief, Brigitte seemed to accept this without demur. I partnered Sally, and although we lost, we played well. But my nightmare bacame real as we shook hands over the net; Brigitte’s eyes opened wide as they focussed on the plaster stuck on my wrist. I’d fallen over on Friday in her classroom and cut myself. She had herself put the band-aid on. She exclaimed in her beautifully french accent, "Jens, it is Jens, isn’t it?"

I was so ashamed, I just bolted to my room and flung myself on the bed, sobbing madly. Sometime later, the door opened and somebody sat on the side of the bed and gently caressed my back. I turned, thinking it was Sally or my aunty but no, it was Brigitte looking down at me.

"Jeannette, such a pretty name. Cherie, your aunt has explained it all to me and I assure you it will remain our little secret. I would not dream of letting the school know, so please let us be friends."

I didn’t know what to say, I was tongue-tied. Agathe silently came up behind her and said, "See, Jeannette, everything is alright. Brigitte is very sympathetic and I’ve invited her to stop for lunch. She has only got her tennis dress so we’ll just borrow a few things of yours and then you can change and come and join us."

I waited until they had left the room before going to shower. I had to obey my aunt. I dressed in the items that she had left ready for me. This was one of her strict rules: I must wear just the articles she picked for me, nothing more and nothing less. Today she had chosen a pink satin bra and suspender belt, sheer tan silk stockings, pink satin knickers with matching frilly bouffant waist slip and camisole top, all embellished with gorgeous cream lace. I renewed my make-up, spritzed myself with ‘Miss Dior’ slipped on my white lacy blouse and a flared skirt of shiny white cotton printed with pale pink flowers that matched my pink sandals.

The hem of my petticoats and skirt were knee length so as I tripped along they swirled prettily. As I entered the pool area, where we were to have lunch, Sally came to meet me and took my hand in hers.

"It’s going to be OK darling, you do look super."

I looked shyly at Brigitte who smiled encouragingly at me her eyes sparkling. "How do I look in your clothes, Cherie?"

"Very nice," I replied demurely and indeed she did. She wore a pale blue silk shirt with a cream skirt piped with pale blue satin. It was a wrap around skirt and she flipped it open to show a waist slip of pale blue satin embellished with beige lace that had been part of a set given to me by Sally.

"I do admire your taste in lingerie, Cherie, however," bringing out from behind her back, she dangled the pretty matching brassiere, "I’m afraid I’m still a bit bigger than you!"

This broke the ice and I could not help joining in the laughter.

"You look so chic, Cherie, what a lovely skirt and blouse." She was wonderful to me and lunch passed all too quickly. Aunt Agathe invited her to stay for the rest of the day but as she had to do some work she agreed to come over for dinner. "I’m looking forward to seeing you this evening Jeannette, and I’ll return your clothes and lingerie." With that she kissed me softly on the lips and held me to her for just a moment that I wished could last an eternity.

"You were quite a hit there Jeannette," said Sally as Agathe walked her to the car. I replied, "She’s far nicer than I’d expected her to be, Sally, and she is so beautiful, isn’t she?"

"Yes darling, and I think she is taken with you. Don’t you agree, Agathe?"

"I do. Did you notice her eyes hardly ever left you and she adored it when you crossed your legs, showing off your frillies? In fact, you almost overdid it, Jeannette. Don’t be too coquettish in the future." I blushed lightly at this, but realised that she had spotted my attempts at flirtation.

I spent the rest of the afternoon washing and ironing and daydreaming of Brigitte.

I enjoyed a long, luxurious, scented bath and whilst waiting for Aunt Agathe to set out my clothes, sat in a negligee and applied my makeup carefully. I was spritzing myself lavishly with perfume when the door opened and in walked Agathe followed by Brigitte. I clutched my negligee about me. My false bosom heaved, revealing their nipples through the soft lace cups.

"Brigitte has agreed to help you dress, darling."

"Good evening, Jeannette, I do hope you don’t mind?"

"No, no," I stammered, "of course not."

I stood silently as Agathe chose my attire. Brigitte looked very smart in a thick white satin blouse clearly braless, black velvet evening trousers, black stockings and high heeled black patent shoes with a gold trim. She smiled reassuringly at me as my pretties were laid out on the bed: tiny sheer flesh coloured briefs tied at the side with satin bows, pale blue basque, french knickers and slip, all with beige lace. White silk stockings, blue suede shoes and my pretty pale blue figure hugging jersey dress completed the outfit.

"Have fun, darlings," she trilled as she left.

"Don’t be nervous, Cherie, would you be happier with these on?" handing me the concealing briefs. I nodded gratefully as I took them from her, turned and stepped into them. Then I reached down to my privates and with a practiced gesture drew them backwards to lie flat and smooth and hidden in their nylon sheath.

I stood silently, not knowing what to do next. She walked around in front of me, reached forward and undid the satin bow under my breast forms and slipped my negligee off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. My hands moved upwards to my chest as I reacted, startled by the sudden pull of my breast forms against my chest. As Brigitte brushed my hands away she said, "Your modesty is becoming, but you don’t need to cover yourself. We are all girls here." I started to blush. She had praised me for reacting as a girl should, by covering my breasts! I thought of saying something about not intending to do what she had thought I was doing, but she placed her hands on my waist and pulled me gently to her and put her lips on mine. We kissed passionately. Suddenly breaking away, she said huskily, "Come, Cherie, or we will never get you dressed." I nodded dumbly, not trusting myself to speak, savouring that kiss and the emotions that it aroused deep within me.

She fastened my basque behind me, then helped me on with my stockings and fastened their tops to the suspenders on my basque. She handed me my french knickers and I drew them on over my stockinged legs and then raised my arms above my shoulders. Brigitte let the slip fall over my shoulders and then stood behind me, gazing into the mirror at our reflections.

Her hands moved softly down from my breasts to my waist and onto my hips pressing me gently through the slippery material. I leaned back onto her, revelling in the glorious sensation, as her hands caressed my lower abdomen I parted my legs to give her more access. She smiled and shook her head.

"Not yet, Cherie," and kissed me on the neck. I stepped into my shoes and slipped on my dress.

"Charmant, Cherie, so chic." She spoke throatily and sexily and off we went to join the others. It was a wonderful evening: they all went out of their way to make a fuss of me.

We sat talking after dinner until Sally put on a recording and we all began dancing. It was super: all slow numbers, which meant that Agathe and Brigitte held me close to them as we moved languorously to the music. During one dance Agathe whispered, "I’ve invited Brigitte to stop the night Jeannette, if that’s ok with you?" I nodded gently and looked over at Brigitte dancing with Sally. She smiled and raised an eyebrow enquiringly. I shyly lowered my eyes but again nodded my acceptance.

Sally said, "Come Agathe, take me to bed and leave these youngsters to it." They kissed us goodnight and left us.

Brigitte took me in her arms, our bodies pressed together my arms around her neck and our lips fastened in a passionate kiss. Her tongue explored my mouth and her hands rubbed my buttocks, our bodies swaying to the music in a little world of our own. She held my hand as we walked up the stairs to my bedroom where Aunt Agathe had laid out a pretty blue and beige nightdress for me and a pair of black silk pyjamas for Brigitte.

She started to undress me slowly. After she removed my slip, I hesitantly unbuttoned her blouse. As her large breasts fell free from the slick material, I could see her nipples were already aroused. She stepped out of her shoes, unzipped the side of her velvet trousers, and slipped them down her legs together with her black bikini panties. Now dressed in nothing more than a lacy black suspender belt and silk stockings, she knelt at my feet, removed my shoes, and slowly pulled my french knickers down my legs.

Her mouth brushed my thigh, making me moan as she undid the tiny satin bows on my briefs and slipped them out from under my ruched suspenders. My penis, released from its confinement, sprang forward already partly erect she kissed it sweetly and then took the head deep into her mouth causing me to become rock hard. Standing she placed my hand between her legs and I could feel her soft wetness on her silky pubic hairs. She raised my fingers to my lips and I licked at the perfumed dew. It was a beautiful taste and held a fragrance that I had never before experienced.

She laid me on the bed, my back on the satin of my nightgown, and when astride me placed my penis into her well lubricated vagina, her breasts hanging down to my receptive mouth. I was completely swallowed up by her and suckled contentedly on her nipples as she began to ride me. We were both at such a fever pitch that as her vaginal muscles gripped my penis in a rippling movement we erupted into a huge mutual orgasm. Her lips found mine as she collapsed onto my torso and we kissed most passionately.

After sometime, she raised herself from my supine body and wiped my penis with her own soft panties. Then she turned me over and unfastened my basque. As I sat up, she helped me roll off my stockings. Then Brigitte helped me into my nightie and just slipped on her black silk pyjama jacket. We lay in each others arms between the cool sheets, murmuring words of love and affection to each other and exploring each others bodies with our hands. We made love many times that first night until we finally fell into a satiated slumber.

I woke to find Sally and Agathe looking down at us with pleased smiles on their faces.

Sally said, "We’ve brought you girls a coffee, if you can spare the time." Looking down at the raised sheet where Brigitte was softly massaging my erection through my nightgown, Agathe said to Sally, "Come darling, that’s given me an idea." They exited hand in hand, giggling like two teenagers as Brigitte raised my skirt and straddled me saying, "Good morning, Cherie."

After a langorous session of lovemaking, we bathed together, taking delight in slowly soaping each others bodies.

Brigitte slipped on her suspender belt and stockings and sat on the edge of the bed, whilst I dressed in my pink and cream lace camiknickers over bra and suspender belt. I walked over to her with a pair of white lace knickers that she’d asked to borrow.

"Kneel down between my legs, Cherie," she murmured. She parted them wide and brought my mouth into contact with her lower lips which were warm and moist.

"Kiss me, Cherie, and lick my clitoris." I needed no further invitation and happily followed her instructions. I slowly mastered the art of cunnilingus and brought her to yet another orgasm. As her body finished writhing she released my head and just then the door opened and in strode Aunt Agathe.

"Well, well, what have we here? Two lesbians?"

I leaped to my feet colouring immediately but Brigitte just raised herself onto her elbows not even bothering to close her legs and smiling said, "I don’t think after last night and this morning I’d consider our little transvestite here to be of the lesbian persuasion but I’d thought I’d teach her some of the more beautiful ways of making love. Agathe, I do hope you don’t disapprove?"

"Au contraire, Brigitte, I most definitely do approve, as I’m sure you guessed. And darling, you do have the most beautiful body. I’m so happy that you two are so fond of each other."

That was the first of many super weekends that Brigitte and I, Jeannette, spent together.



The weekend after my exams had finished we were invited to a party at Cecile’s and Sara’s. On the Saturday afternoon appointed Brigitte drove me down to Brighton ahead of my aunty as she wanted to buy me a present of lingerie from the boutique.

We were greeted by Penelope and shown into Cecile’s private office where I was shown my gift, the prettiest set of peach coloured underwear with just oodles of matching lace. I clapped my hands with glee and kissed them both. It looked super. "Can I wear it tonight please Brigitte?" "Of course, Cherie, I’m dying to see you in it too."

I failed to notice the glance that passed between them. On the way I tried but failed to persuade her to tell me about my next treat being told to wait and see. We were ushered into that beautifully feminine boudoir where Sara first greeted us. This time, Sara introduced us to a friend of hers named Anita.

"Well you are Jeannette, are you? Sara and Cecile have told me so much about you, darling, but I never expected you to be as pretty and as feminine as you are."

I was pleased and flattered at her comments but embarrassed at her knowing that under all my finery I was really a boy. I was worried more and more people were getting to know my secret. When would this end?

"Brigitte, perhaps you would be good enough to help Jeannette bathe and then bring her back in here."

Brigitte removed my wig and washed the longish hair that Aunt Agathe had not let me have cut for simply ages and then bathed me, powdered me with Sara’s scented talc, and helped me into my restraining panties and on with my new peach satin negligee. In the boudoir Anita sat me at the dressing table and announced that she was going to trim and set my hair. I must have looked astonished for Sara broke in and said: "It’s ok, darling, I’ve had your aunt’s approval so I trust you won’t object?" "Oh no, of course not, and I’m pleased — just a little surprised."

I had to sit patiently for the next two hours as Anita got to work on my hair, cutting it, coating it with something whose smell reminded me of depilatory, and then setting it on rollers. Whilst under the hairdryer, she trimmed my fingernails into a feminine oval and painted them with a new pink varnish. She also plucked my eyebrows, shaping them delicately into high, sculpted arches. Then she took out the rollers and after brushing my locks one last time, allowed me to look into the mirror. It was incredible to realise I was seeing my own hair, set in a pretty young style framing my beautifully made up face. My arched eyebrows added so much to my feminine look. I must admit to being really delighted by my new look but I was also not a little bit worried. How was I ever going to revert to being Jens?

I was used to seeing my blonde wig but having my own hair looking so pretty made quite a difference: the waves and curls bounced as I moved this way and that in a way the wig never could. They all smiled at my reaction, especially when I tried to be polite and said how much I was looking forward to Agathe and Sally seeing my new hairdo.

I started to get up from my chair as Anita said, "Just a moment, my dear, I have not quite finished." She took up an odd-looking instrument and plugged the electric lead into the nearest socket. As Brigitte took hold of my opposite shoulder, Anita took hold of an ear lobe and said, "Hold very still! This will be noisy!" Before I knew what was happening I heard three very loud pops, and then felt a surge of pain. She changed places with Brigitte and swiftly triple-pierced the other ear.

As she drove the last small diamond stud into my ear I exclaimed, "Oh! Sara, Brigitte, look at me: I’ll never be able to go back to school again!"

"Don’t be silly," said Anita, "It’s easy enough to disguise the holes with a little makeup and anyway, lots of boys wear earrings nowadays!"

I jumped to my feet and exclaimed, "One earring or maybe two at most, but not six, Anita! Six earrings! How could you?"

Brigitte kissed me, then said, "The diamond studs make you look irresistible. But I have an idea for something I’d like to see on you at poolside this summer," as she looked at Sara and Anita. This must have been a cue: Brigitte firmly took my right hand in her hands and stood off to my right, as Sara came over and held down my left hand. Anita quickly knelt down in before me with her machine in hand. It seemed Anita parted my negligee, placed the fold of skin atop my navel in her machine and drove the piecing home in one motion. It was all over before I could put up a struggle: hardly any noise, but more pain. I let out a little shriek as Anita finished by snapping a ball onto the sharp end of the stud.

"There, that didn’t hurt that much, did it? This stud is just a starter," Brigitte said as she handed me a gold navel ring set with a flashing red ruby. This navel ring will look so cute peeking out of that hot-looking pink bathing dress you have, the one with the keyhole midriff."

"But boys don’t wear navel rings," I said. "But you will, for me, won’t you?" said Brigitte. "I think it makes you look sexy."

I had to blush and agree to do it for her.

Cecile arrived and was as delighted with my appearance as all the others. We each drank a glass of champagne as they helped me into my new basque, stockings and French knickers.

The next surprise of the evening was my new dress. It was a cream satin and chiffon number that looked both demure and sexy at the same time, like all my evening dresses. But this dress sported a wide satin ribbon at the waist in peach to match my new satin pumps and the pretty satin choker around my slim neck.

I was made to parade for them and Sara took lots of photographs including some pretty sexy ones. I had to lift my skirts showing off my lingerie and even pretend to be adjusting my garters, as I hiked up my gorgeous French knickers.

Aunt Agathe arrived, accompanied, as usual, by Sally. I stood nervously smoothing my dress down self consciously and smiled hopefully at her. She was ecstatic and clasped me to her. "My darling Jeannette, I’m overjoyed. You look so fabulous, I couldn’t be happier, don’t you agree girls?" Needless to say, they all did.

"Darling, I’m sure you realise that it would be very difficult for you to return to school this term and I’m sure that you realise also that I’d arranged this with something else in mind." Her soft hand gently played with the new curls in my hair. "So with Brigitte’s assistance, we’ve arranged for you to go on holiday early."

"Yes," piped up Brigitte, "you’re going to stay with my mother in France for the next few weeks until we can join you for the holidays. She is so looking forward to having another young girl to dress in frilly undies and pretty dresses."

I had no idea that Brigitte’s taking a job at my school was no accident: Aunt Agathe had known Brigitte’s mother for years, and had carefully arranged every step of Brigitte’s supposedly casual introduction to me. As events would prove, Agathe, Brigitte and her mother really had everything planned for me, down to the last pair of lacy panties.

The party was super and we all stayed overnight.

Brigitte and I make love for hours. Early next morning, we made our good-byes and drove to the ferry to Calais. As we went as day trippers, we did not need passports to make the crossing. I was in my youthful attire of white undies, white-ace trimmed blouse and pink pleated skirt.

I was handed over to Brigitte’s mother, a classically beautiful woman in her forties, very chic in an ageless Chanel suit: Madame Charlotte. "So like Jens," she said reminding me of my real self. After an emotional parting from Sally and Aunt Agathe but especially from my lover, Brigitte, we drove to her house just south of Paris in her luxury car with her chauffeuse at the wheel.

I was introduced to her large staff that included a personal maid for me: yet another group of persons to know my secret.

"This was my youngest daughter’s room, Jeannette. Do you like it?"

It was the ultimate in femininity, reminiscent of Sara and Cecile’s boudoir: the room was decorated with pink walls and carpet, and had mirrors along the whole length of one wall concealing large fitted wardrobes. A Louis XVI sofa, a pink satin draped mirrored dressing table and a huge freestanding brass four poster bed with delicate white lace drapes completed the furniture. Pictures of stylishly dressed women walking and talking together decorated the walls; in one picture two tall, gracefully slender women actually looking as if they were flirting with each other.

I bounced on the pink satin covered bed and spoke to Madame Charlotte. "I really feel at home and if I may say so, I’m rather tired and would like to go to bed." "But of course, Cherie, I’ll help you to undress, unless you would rather I called a maid? My maid Marguerite will be at your disposal for as long as you stay."

"Oh no, Madame, I’m more than happy for you to assist me."

"By the way, I’ve kept all of Marie’s pretty lingerie and dresses. I’m sure that they will fit you. Perhaps we will see how they look on you in the morning."

She knew all about me, but in some way I felt comfortable in her presence and stood happily before her as she divested me of my garments. Finally, I stood naked before her. She slipped an elaborately frilled nightdress of soft nylon over my head. Through the soft delicate material she gently caressed my genitals until my penis was hard.

"Ah, I thought so, Cherie. You will sleep better if I deal with this, won’t you?"

I nodded as I were completely in her power. As instructed, I slipped between the pink satin sheets. Then she raised my nightdress and wrapped a soft pair of pretty panties around my penis and slowly, oh so slowly, began to frig me. She spoke throatily, "I haven’t done this for such a long time, Cherie, but I think that I’m starting to make you happy, aren’t I?" I was only to remember those words in the days to come. At that moment I was only concerned in having an orgasm. She was so expert, as she brought me to the brink she kept delaying the final caress again and again until I was begging her to bring me off. Eventually she gave in to my entreaties, and I erupted into the soft nylon and lace, my body shuddering in ecstasy.

She smiled at me triumphantly, "There, there, Cherie, I’m sure that was worth it." I nodded gratefully as she drew beribboned frilly panties up my hairless legs. She gave me a final soft caress as she pulled my nightie down, kissed me sweetly and left the room, switching off the light as she left. I reveled in the feeling of soft nylon on my body as I drifted off to sleep, my organ clasped in my hand through the thin material.



Madame Charlotte and Marguerite, her young mulatto personal maid, awoke me. With little preamble, they divested me of my two garments and took me into the marble bathroom. Prior to bathing me, they gave me an enema. This most humiliating act was performed so brusquely by the time I sat in the scented hot water I was in floods of tears.

After I’d been dried I was patted down with talc and taken into the bedroom, where Marguerite had me step into a flesh coloured latex cache-sex more refined than the gaff I’d become used to. This new garment was a little like a flesh-coloured athletic support. My penis was placed into a thick rubber socket and, as when wearing restraining briefs, my testicles were pushed upwards into my body. When the straps were drawn up tightly between my buttocks and up over my hips, my penis was pulled down between my legs. Although uncomfortable at first, I soon became used to it. But it gave me a start when I looked in the mirror and saw soft false labia peeking through blonde false pubic hair. I had justified wearing a gaff to make my pantie fit. This was going farther, and I felt increasingly uneasy.

Madame Charlotte pushed her middle finger between my new lips and ran her nail up the length of my penis scratching me gently through its thin delicate sheath. In spite of my growing misgivings, I shuddered with delight at her touch.

"There, Cherie now you really do have a girl’s equipment don’t you."

"Thank you, Madame," I had the presence of mind to murmur quietly. I could just manage to control myself. I realised I was in a foreign country, far from home and totally at the mercy of a woman who thought like my Aunt Agathe — or did she? So far, she made everything she did to me seem delightful, but I really had no choice.

Madame relaxed on the sofa and watched as Marguerite dressed me in a rose pink basque with sheer grey stockings attached to the garters and frilly panties drawn up to my waist. The seat of the panties was covered in frilly ruffles but the front was quite sheer and close-fitting. It clearly showed off the smooth outline of my crotch and my false female genitalia, as it had obviously been chosen to do. As if to emphasise my femininity, Marguerite fastened a rose pink velvet bow to my hair whose soft streamers dropped down to my shoulders. This was followed by another piece of Marie’s glamorous lingerie, a full slip in rose pink with peekaboo lace trim in all the revealing places. In spite of myself, it did make me feel sexy. I had to admit to myself that deep down, I was really starting to enjoy dressing.

"Isn’t it marvelous to have a pretty girl in the house again, Madame?" said Marguerite.

"You are quite right now, why don’t you show Jeannette Marie’s pretty dresses." She opened the wardrobe doors and I gasped, for they were filled with the most incredible selection of girlish as well as very adult dresses, each with its matching slip and frilly petticoat or camisole. I could not resist stepping forward to touch these beautiful garments and as I did so they rustled gently and whispered to me. I fancied I could hear them say "Wear me." and I suddenly felt the yearning to try them on, all of them. Beneath the dresses, matching high heeled shoes and even high heeled boots stood ranked in low shelves on the floor. I had never had tried high heeled boots before, but I immediately realised I wanted to wear them with a desire more urgent than my desire for sexy lingerie.

The basque that I wore had been laced tightly and had reduced my waist by some 3 inches, to 25 inches all around, and the rose pink dress that was chosen for me was a perfect fit. The tight lacing had emphasised my slightly plump derrière, making the full skirt with its built in petticoats stand out from my hips even more than usual. I groaned slightly at the constriction of my waist as Marguerite seated me to apply my makeup.

"Don’t worry, Cherie," said Madame Charlotte, "you’ll soon get used to it and you’ll probably be begging Marguerite to lace you up even tighter. There is something so feminine about a tightly corseted body, don’t you agree, Cherie?"

"Oh yes, Madame, and the dress is so sweet. The grey ribbon about my waist exactly matches my pretty shoes. Thank you so much! I do hope Marie does not mind me wearing her gorgeous outfits."

"Don’t worry about that, Jeannette, I know she’ll be just as happy as I am." I walked over to the sofa. She ran her hands up the inside of my thighs to the gap between stocking top and panty lace and then rubbed me softly on my panties over my lower abdomen. I could not restrain a quiet moan of pleasure. "Oh yes, Cherie," she spoke huskily, "you do enjoy your lingerie, don’t you?"

I just smiled lightly as I was used to this by now. It did not occur to me to ask why Marie was almost my height and had my same shoe size, 43 here in France, rather larger than most young ladies’.

But I was caught up in the moment: my skirt was a good four inches above the knee and as I walked the taffeta rustled prettily. It was rather different from the more classic things that I usually wore during the daytime. It looked so girlish on me, it rather took some getting used to.

I sat in the lounge with Madame Charlotte, who was busy making phone calls. I revarnished my nails as I sat in front of a cheval mirror. This mirror had been strategically placed so that my frilly lace-edged petticoats were showing. It was yet another reminder of my enforced femininity: as though I needed reminding while my corset clenched my waist in its firm boning.

Whilst Madame spoke on the phone she kept glancing at me. I feared that I might be the subject of the conversation. I dearly hoped that I was not going to be humiliated further but realised that if that was her intention I was going to have as little say in the matter as I would have had with Aunt Agathe: that is, absolutely no say at all.

Just about noon, the door opened and Marguerite showed a lady into the lounge. Madame greeted her with a kiss and introduced me to her as Doctor Goulez. It appeared that she had come for lunch, then she was due to examine me! The colour drained from my face at this news.

"Don’t worry Jeannette, Madame just wants me to ensure that you are in good health. I’ve looked after the family for many years and I’m sure you hold no surprises for me." Lunch for me was rather a fraught affair but I was plied with wine that relaxed me enough to allow me to join in the conversation. After coffee she said, "Right Jeannette, let’s go and check you out!"

We went up to my bedroom where they sat on the sofa and watched whilst Marguerite’s brown fingers divested me of all my clothes down to my new cache-sex.

After Marguerite applied solvent to my false breasts and put them away, I felt totally denuded. My hands didn’t know where to cover, my chest or my genitalia. I felt so vulnerable as I stood before them with one elbow across my chest covering the red spots left by the breast adhesive and my other hand covering the little heart shape my bush had been trimmed to.

Here I was, a slender, long-legged boy of almost 17 years of age, but with a hairless body, a beautifully made-up face, hair coifed in soft curls decorated with a pretty pink bow, a large pearl drop earring and two pearl studs in each pierced earlobe, and a ruby ring flashing inside my navel.

Doctor Goulez told me to put my hands down. I was startled to hear her say nothing she saw could surprise her. What had she heard already, and from whom?

My skin was flushed bright pink as she gently took my flaccid organ in her warm hand and caressed my scrotal sac with the other. Despite my humiliation I gradually began to respond. "Now, Cherie, tell me how it all began, your love for the feminine life, that is."

I told my story from the very beginning, all of three months ago. As I told it, every time my erection started to subside she would manipulate me until it returned. When I finished my tale I was trembling at her soft, insistent touch.

"Tell me, Jeannette, do you like this?"

"Oh yes doctor," I admitted, "Very much."

"Better than making love with Brigitte?"

I was shy in front of her mother but replied, "No, no, that’s so beautiful."

Dr. Goulez picked up my discarded panties, wrapped them around my shaft and stroked me quite hard. "How about this Jeannette, do you like this?"

I didn’t need to reply, the soft material and her incessant rubbing was incredible and I started to come in an enormous orgasm. As I bucked my hips, pumping away into the delicate frilly panties, a moan of ecstasy escaped my lips.

Madame and Dr. Goulez smiled at each other, triumph and delight on their faces. Marguerite wiped me off and Doctor Goulez asked if I’d enjoyed the enema that I’d been given that morning.

Embarrassed at such a personal question, I hesitated slightly. Without warning, she squeezed my scrotum tightly, "I want an honest reply Jeannette, it is important to gauge your exact reactions if I’m to make a diagnosis. Unless you want me to hurt you badly you will speak now!"

Her squeeze hurt me so much I could hesitate no longer, "I felt ashamed at having it done to me, especially in front of Madame, but I admit that in a funny way there was a sense of enjoyment in the actual process."

Again that answer seemed to please them. The middle finger of her hand holding my testicles stroked me between my cheeks and pressed against my anus. I wriggled at this touch on such a sensitive part of my anatomy but she just increased the pressure on my scrotum forcing me to allow her finger to enter. "That’s better, Jeannette," she murmured as I open my legs wider, "Now come on over to the bed."

She removed an article from her bag I had never seen before: it was about eight inches long, round, about an inch and a half across, with a gently rounded tip. I was made to lean over the bed, my buttocks in the air. I guessed what was about to happen and pleaded with them to stop. "Don’t be silly, Cherie," said Madame Charlotte, "I can always get the rest of my staff to hold you down!"

I capitulated and lay there shaking as my cheeks were parted and a bit of lubricant was pushed in and around the opening. Then the article itself was pressed against me. My muscles tensed but Doctor Goulez stroked my buttocks gently and whispered words of comfort to me: gradually, I relaxed. Soon Dr. Goulez slipped it deep inside me, and suddenly I felt it start to vibrate! Despite having been masturbated only minutes before I found myself becoming erect, my penis touching the cool satin coverlet on my bed. She slipped her other hand between my legs saying, "Oh yes, Jeannette, you really are very receptive, you are really enjoying this, aren’t you, Cherie?" As she fluttered the fingers of one hand lightly along the length of my hard penis she rhythmically plunged the vibrator deep in and out of me with her other hand. In my excitement, I was panting so hard I could not speak: all I could do was to shake my head in a futile attempt to contradict my body’s reply.

The instrument was withdrawn and I was laid out on the bed, moaning softly to myself as tears rolled down my flushed cheeks. I felt betrayed by my own body: my shaft stood up straight and hard, not in spite of, but because of my violation.

All three women looked down at me with expressions of deep satisfaction on their handsome faces. Madame turned to Marguerite and said, "I think our little she-male requires some assistance. Perhaps you’d be good enough to oblige." She walked over to the wardrobe and returned within seconds carrying a pair of frilly panties in her hand and once again I was masturbated to a now almost dry orgasm.

I was exhausted both mentally and physically. I was beyond resistance: I just lay there as the Doctor rubbed my nipples with a cotton ball wet with a liquid that made them go numb. I watched as she prepared a syringe and injected a small amount of colourless liquid into both of my tiny nipples.

She turned to Madame Charlotte, "There, my dear. Little Jeannette will need a booster every other week for the next six months, but then our little Jeannette will be able to show the beginnings of a lovely pair of pert teenage breasts with delicate sensitive nipples! I suggest you administer little Jeannette’s treatments just as I demonstrated it today. It will help keep our little she-male compliant. I’m sure we shall all enjoy seeing how little Jeannette grows big. But who knows what cup size Jeannette will finally grow into?"

"I heard from dear Agathe that little Jeannette’s late mother was very well endowed, with heavy double-D tits, large aureolae and protruding nipples, and that runs in the family, doesn’t it, Doctor?

"It does, most of the time," Doctor Goulez replied, "but if you feel little Jeannette is having difficulty becoming more feminine, we could always help nature along with a little surgery in my office."

I moaned piteously at hearing this. "Oh no, please, no. I’m a boy! I admit I like wearing dresses and sexy lingerie but I don’t want to be made into a girl, please, please!"

"Don’t worry Jeannette, the hormone that I’ve injected into you is very localised and will only affect your mammary glands. You’ll still be able to use your masculine equipment, as Charlotte already knows. I wouldn’t think of doing anything more drastic than removable implants — after all, your changes are not supposed to be permanent."

"Yes, indeed, Jeannette, and it will only be for the next six months. Then it’s up to your Aunt to decide whether you are to blossom into womanhood or whether you must revert back to being Jens and be sent away to boarding school."

"Six months," I cried, "but what about school in the meantime?"

"That’s all been taken care of, Cherie, your aunt has employed Brigitte as a governess for you. She will give you all formal education, we others will work hard letting you find confidence in your new role as a girl."

I was shattered by this statement and could offer no more resistance as the doctor gave me some more injections. The first injection was into my buttocks to prevent my cock and balls from growing to full adult size, "for the time being," the Doctor said. Then Marguerite removed my lipstick and held my head steady as the doctor made a series of small injections of collagen to enhance the fullness of my lips. Marguerite slipped a soft negligee about me and drew light diaphanous panties up to my waist. I was in a mild state of shock and drifted into an uneasy slumber after the drapes were closed and they left me to my dreams.



Marguerite awoke me about 7 p.m. gave me my bath. As she affixed my false breasts to my chest, she tweaked the pink nipples saying, "Well, Mamselle, not long before you have your own to play with, eh?"

She giggled and dressed me in Marie’s kid leather basque, which was an ultra-feminine gorgeous glossy strapless turquoise plungeback bustier. No cache-sex, just a pretty turquoise Brazilian-style tanga in the same glossy kidskin to encase my powdered genitals, leaving my buttocks bare over pale blue stay-up silk thigh-highs and knee-high turquoise boots with five inch stiletto heels. She made me up rather glamourously: turquoise eye shadow, blusher, mascara, and eye liner. Working very gently with a soft brush, she even managed to paint my swollen and tender lips with a pale pink lipstick that matched my nail polish.

As she fastened a turquoise satin bow to the back of my hair the door opened and in came Madame with the prettiest girl, who, from her looks just had to be Brigitte’s sister, Marie. She was indeed Marie, and greeted me with a kiss on each cheek. Madame Charlotte dismissed Marguerite saying that Marie could finish helping me to dress and that it would give us an opportunity to become better acquainted with each other.

"You look beautiful, Jeannette, such delicate features! I can understand how my sister fell for you," she ran her hand over my protruding ass. "A gorgeous figure too, darling, that I understand will soon be added to." She spoke in that lovely sexy accent just like her mother and sister. "You like wearing my pretty lingerie, Cherie?

She was so disarming and sympathetic I started to feel close to her. I gushed, "Oh yes, Marie, I just adore it. It is so pretty! I find it so soft and sensuous it makes me feel like a princess."

She laughed, not at me, but with me. "Yes, Cherie, Maman always did insist on buying the prettiest scanties for me. I too love the feel of leather, satin and lace. It feels so good on one’s body!"

She knew exactly how I felt! It was so wonderful to have someone to confide in. We chatted happily for some moments and then she helped hook me into an elegant strapless turquoise dress that floated dreamily over my sensitive skin: the décolleté bodice showed off my trim figure and the wide satin ribbon about my waist emphasised my tight corseting. She fastened a four strand pearl choker about my slim neck to match my pearl earrings and she spritzed me with perfume just everywhere.

"Darling Jeannette, shall I ask Maman if I can sleep in my old room tonight with you?" I was overjoyed, "Oh yes, please, Marie, yes please." She laughed happily and taking my hand led me downstairs to join Madame for dinner.

"Stand here by my chair, Jeannette," Madame ordered. Her hand lightly ran up the inside of my leg. She took no notice of the fact that the staff were in the room as her fingers worked their way to the tops of my stockings and played with the soft hide of the tight tanga. It was obvious that she was demonstrating her control of me and my acceptance of it.

Marie looked across the room and smiled understandingly at me. She looked glorious. Her breasts pushed out her semi-sheer white silk blouse with erect nipples. Her shapely crossed legs revealed frilly white petticoats under her full black velvet skirt. Her black silk stockings had a diamante design on her lovely ankles and her black patent shoes showed a scarlet polished nail in each peep toe.

Madame said, "I think Marie is getting jealous, Cherie. You’d better go and join her."

As I stood alongside Marie she started to play with the soft leather of my undies. Then, no longer content with playing, she boldly caressed my genitals. "Do you like this, Cherie?" I gulped as I felt her nail run down the whole length of my shaft from head to base.

"Oh Marie oh yes, yes please." I could feel my legs beginning to turn to jelly. "Now stop that girls," said Madame, "I’d hate to see Jeannette have an accident."

During dinner Marie broached the subject of sleeping with me and Madame acquiesced but said to me, "Are you sure Jeannette because I will not let you change your mind later." "Yes Madame I’m positive I won’t change my mind."

"Very well girls, I’m sure you will be able to find something to occupy the time. Now if you’ve finished, I’ve got a couple of erotic videos for you."

We all sat ourselves in the lounge before a broad pedestal television screen. Marie and I sat on a sofa, her arm about my shoulders. As the first video rolled, I was startled by the opening: no preliminaries, just a view of my empty bedroom. The door opened and I walked in, followed by the doctor. I realised that the video was my examination, which had taken place only that afternoon. I was horrified to have to experience my violation once again and felt doubly violated that it had been secretly recorded. Judging from the camera angle, I inferred that the camera must have been hidden behind the dressing table mirror, which must have really been one-way glass. And I was being made to watch this with Marie! I wanted to just curl up and die!

But my fears prove excessive. As the video went on, Marie was marvelously comforting to me. She stroked me and said how much she liked me, both as a girl and a boy. Still, I was relieved when the tape finished. But then Madame put the next video in the player. Again it was the bedroom, but as the door opened this time Marie could be seen entering with Marguerite, who proceeded to help her undress. A black satin dress came off, then the video showed her clad in a gorgeous slip lavishly embellished with lace and ribbons. She must have known she was on camera because she kept striking sexy poses. Her slip was then removed, leaving her clad in black stockings, suspenders, bra and panties.

Marguerite unclasped her bra and stood before Marie, and kissed those firm breasts and nipples with her purple lips. It was so erotic I felt myself start to harden. Marguerite then knelt at her feet, removed her shoes and silk stockings and then reached up and pulled her suspenders from under her panties. As Marguerite kissed the fabric at the V of her thighs and rubbed her cheek against her, Marie stroked her nipples and rubbed her large firm bosom. Marguerite slowly pulled Marie’s panties down her legs, revealing a tiny black lace G-string tied with a satin bow on each hip. Marie’s voice sounded clearly: it was laced with nakedly sexual undertones. "Please, Marguerite, please, do me, now." Marguerite’s brown fingers released the tiny bows and the wisp of lace drifted to the carpet. I gasped for there in front of the camera was a full set of masculine sex organs!

I felt Marie’s tongue run around my ear. I turned to face her, my mouth still open in surprise. "Watch out for your lips," Marie warned. I drew back: I had been about to kiss her.

Madame asked, "What do you think of my youngest daughter, Jeannette?"

I couldn’t think straight. I was partly repulsed but I was also so attracted to the beautiful, sexy girl holding me in her arms.

"Doctor Goulez entered the sex of girl on the birth certificate as I’d never wanted a son. I brought Marie up as a daughter and she loved it. Didn’t you darling?"

"Yes Maman, I’ve no regrets. I feel I have the best of both worlds, don’t you Jeannette?"

I had at last found my voice. "I’m not sure! I’m so confused, my feelings for Marie and what has been happening to me in the last few months, I don’t know." And then I dissolved into tears.

Marie held me to her bosom and said to her mother, "I’ll take her off to bed. The poor thing is overwrought."

She sat me at the dressing table and gently removed my makeup, then my boots and dress. By now I’d calmed down and watched as she removed her blouse and skirt. Her proud breasts pressed up against me, my slip rustled against her frilly petticoats and her lips repeatedly kissed my cheeks, but stopped short of my lips. "I had collagen injections, too," Marie said. "Open your mouth and let’s try something new." She moved her mouth over mine without touching my lips, and sent her questing tongue into my open mouth. She quickly flicked her tongue against mine, slowly pushing her tongue into my mouth. Our sweet breaths mingled. I was still unsure and was very much the passive partner. I wanted to reward her oral attentions, but my lips were still stiff and sore. As her tongue darted against mine, the thought stole into my mind that once my lips had recovered I might like to wrap them around her tongue — or maybe her cock. Why was I thinking this? What was coming over me?

She carefully removed my kid leather basque and dressed me in a turquoise nightgown and soft loose frilly panties. She joined me on the satin bedsheets clad only in a pair of diaphanous silken panties. She knelt astride my thighs. I could feel our genitals touch through the layers of soft material. She moved gently on me, bending me over so that her breasts brushed my cheeks. There was a whisper of satin on silk on skin. I did as she’d taught me the moment before, and flicked my tongue on her nipples, making her moan softly. Her hand reached between my legs, rubbing gently and I just had to respond. She was insistent but not overpowering. Soon we lay side by side, each holding each others sex in our hands, both of us quite aroused.

Our scents mingled with the heady odor of sex. She lifted the hem of my gown up to my waist and started to take off my panties. I raised my buttocks willingly to help her. She slid down the bed and ran her mouth and hot wet tongue up and down my rampant organ. She kissed my lower belly, thighs and testicles, softly taking each one into her soft warm mouth. "Oh Marie, please take me, please," I begged hoarsely. Returning to my penis, she slowly moved my foreskin down the shaft with a circular movement of her tongue, then started to suck on my glans. Gradually she took more and more into her mouth: first she ran her tongue around the sensitive inside of my foreskin, then she went further and further down the shaft. I had never had such well-practiced attention before. She soon brought me to a huge climax.

Marie raised herself and kissed my cheeks. She placed two satin covered pillows atop each other beside me, then gently turned me face-down with my hips riding over the pillows. She spread my knees and knelt between my thighs. Then she spread my ass cheeks and placed her organ against my ass crack. I stiffened but she gently caressed me through my nightie rubbing the satin erotically against my hairless body. I relaxed and moaned into the satin sheet as she made love to me. Slowly she rocked to and fro, whispering words of love and affection. Her other hand reached around my waist, stroking my slowly reawakening organ through my gown as she rocked herself back and forth faster and faster.

As she pumped away, she timed our mutual orgasm to perfection. I screamed girlishly in ecstasy as I flooded into the satin and lace of my nightdress.

We lay clasped to each others bosom. We were both satiated and despite the sticky mess in my nightie I soon drifted off to sleep.

I awoke next morning to find Marie wiping me down with a soft, warm, wet cloth. She was wearing nothing but a pair of red leather high-heeled boots that reached up her thighs almost to her groin. I had never seen such a pair worn before. My mouth opened into a surprised ‘O’ as I saw she had brought out a second pair in a pale pink that matched my nail polish. She helped me sit up, pulled off my nightie, and threw it to the floor at her feet. Then she made me lie back and swing my legs over the edge of the bed and point my feet. One after another, she brought the tops of the boots over my ankles and then slowly worked the shafts up my legs with gestures that were half pulling, half caressing. The boots were of the thinnest possible leather, unlined and with back lacings. They had a vaguely musky aroma I found appealing. As they eased up my calves and thighs, they first chilled and squeezed me, but as they warmed they felt like part of my body. The way she moved her hands up my legs as she tightened the lacings of her boots around me reminded me of being tighttly corseted for the first time the day before. In spite of myself, I found myself becoming aroused. Was I starting to enjoy her lacings?

When she was finished with her ministrations, she stood up in front of me. I saw her penis was jutting out prettily. It made me think of an exclamation point surrounded by the parentheses of her closely-trimmed brown bush. I stood up unsteadily — I was not quite used to five-inch heels yet — and reached over and shyly took hold of her. She wrapped her long booted legs around mine and artfully tripped us so we fell to the center of the bed. Her ruby-red fingertips played with my member, still moist from washing. It felt so beautiful to roll about on the bed with our booted legs intertwined. We were building towards a climax.

Suddenly, the door opened. I tried to tear myself away but she held me tight. I looked up to see Marguerite smiling at me. "Not bad for a beginner," said Marie to the maid. I blushed hard and hot. "Take off your panties, Marguerite," ordered Marie. Oh God, what next?

With a grin from ear to ear she reached up under her skirt and removed a pair of white lacy knickers. Very gently, she rubbed their warm scented crotch just above my lips, which were still tender from the collagen injections of the day before. The scent of her sex on her lacy knickers made me even more aroused.

Then Marie lifted Marguerite’s skirt and frilly petticoats up to her waist revealing yet another transvestite! Her equipment was much darker than her golden brown skin, much smaller than Marie’s or mine, just 2 or 3 inches, but definitely male. Marie took my hand and placed it on Marguerite’s slowly hardening penis and said, "Come on darling, let’s see you satisfy her."

I fondled her hairless testicles and toyed with her tiny cock, I wouldn’t say willingly but obediently. Marie was now caressing my member softly, which made me lose my focus. Marguerite knelt at the side of the bed and kissed my cheek, saying, "Would you like me to fellate you, Mamselle?" "Oh no," said Marie, "I think our little Jeannette would like to make love to you." Marguerite said "Certainly, Mamselle," and she stripped off her clothes and joined me on the bed clad only in a white basque and stockings, the half cups revealing small but pert brown breasts and almost violet nipples.

Marguerite lay on her face, legs spread, with her derriere sticking up sexily, supported by three satin pillows. Marie lubricated her asshole and then made me kneel between her thighs. Sensing my hesitation, Marguerite wriggled her hips deliciously and pushed back onto me. I reached forward and cupped her breasts in my hands. I could feel Marguerite’s breathing as stirrings on my cock. When I started to ram her asshole I heard a wonderful whispering creak from the leather of my boots. Marguerite let out a little gasp as I plunged into her, and started to pant as I rode in and out of her. The leather of my high boots got hot from my movements and I smelled their wonderful aroma over Marguerite’s perfume. Both aromas were quite overpowered by the aroma of sex as I reached a delightful orgasm, followed in a little while by Marguerite, whom I helped along with my hands after she acknowledged that her hormones made her hard to arouse. When we were done, I collapsed on top of her, quite satiated.

It was the first time I had fucked anyone in the ass, and I wondered whether I would enjoy taking Marguerite’s place on the bottom. Another thought came to worry me: over time would my hormone shots leave me like Marguerite?

After my second set of shots, I confided my misgivings to Marie, who seemed amused by the suggestion. She explained that Madame was giving me such small doses of Progynon Depot and Proluton Depot that I would not become completely impotent, but that I would have to expect to become slower to arouse as I became more and more feminised. "Jeannette, we must all make sacrifices to be beautiful. But there are better things in store for you."

She was quite right. After the first few months of wild lovemaking in Madame’s house, I found it harder and harder to become aroused enough to penetrate even Marguerite’s experienced asshole. But although I felt less keen for a quck roll in the hay and my climaxes took longer and longer to reach, my climaxes felt longer and longer and, in the end, much more satisfying. And by then Marie had introduced me to another pleasure: men. But that is another story which I hope to tell at another time.



After six months, of course, Aunt Agathe decided that I was to be raised as a woman and trained in sexual relations with men. By this time, I hardly considered living as a woman a hardship. But I pretended to be put off by the difficulties of keeping my appearance feminine until I got her to promise to give me laser treatments so I wouldn’t ever have to shave my legs or pits or anyplace anywhere ever again. (I was so lucky Aunt Agathe started to have me feminised before I needed to shave my face.)

I also persuaded Aunt Agathe to get me a tracheal shave, so I don’t have to conceal my Adam’s apple under chokers or ribbons any more.

As for the rest of my development, I am now content to tell you how my breasts grew into — well, not DD’s as my mother’s — but proud C-cups, thrusting upwards and outwards, and how Marie lovingly gave me the ultimate piece of jewelry, a diamond-covered platinum flower, 2 inches in diameter, functioning rather like a washer — she pulled my left nipple through the center hole of the flower so that it stood out against the brownish pink of my large aureola, then she pierced the nipple horizontally through the center of flower with a rather big platinum ring which holds the flower firmly and keeps tugging a bit in my nipple as the three six-inch platinum chains fastened to the ring dangle with my movements. It may not be not permanent, but I love to wear it as often as I can show it.

I stayed for a about a year and a half with Madame Charlotte, who trained my young body to perfection in women’s workout, swimming, and jazz dance until I became an alert, lithe, pliant and proud cat-woman.

Then she introduced me to the hectic social life and the handsome Latin men at the Côte d’Azur. Madame Charlotte also fixed me up with one of the local fashion houses, and they so loved my looks I found work that was often hard to tell from play.

I am now six feet tall and 135 pounds slender, extremely long-legged with a dancer’s floating walk, with Nordic features and a model’s build. At 20 years, I am a fairly well-known model here in the south of France, have occasionally worked for a Paris fashion house, and do quite a lot of modeling for magazines and advertising. Last week I did the Durand lingerie catalog, and yesterday this dark handsome business executive-type repeatedly asked me to marry him and kissed my hand, neck, eyes and lips in front of the camera as we did a deodorant TV-commercial.

Dr. Goulez’s injections in my buttocks a few years ago did not only keep down the growth of my male organs. They actually shrunk quite a bit and are now very boyish. My penis is just the size of my thumb (but usually swells willingly when needed) and my tight sac encloses two sensitive cherrystone-sized balls. I can easily hide the entire package in the most diminutive panties, which is useful.

My fetish for boots is still very much alive. I love to have my legs tightly encased in leather, and I have made spike heel boots more or less my trademark. In private, I quite often wear blue or red boots with faded skin-tight jeans. Gentlemen I meet adore the way the high heels make my pelvis tilt forward and exaggerate my tight and muscular butt: they actually can not keep their hands off! I am always happy when I feel the strong hands of strangers caressing my buttocks in crowded buses and trains.

I have got a wardrobe filled with more than 150 pairs of boots, most of them with five-inch heels, a few up to six inches, so there is always a matching pair available for all my leisure and formal wear. I have them in all possible lengths, cowboy style, knee-length and amazing, loin-hugging, groin-high.

I still love Marie, and occasionally tryst with her, but somehow I have started to focus my life on impressing men, men with money, men with power or just those men with those wonderful well-muscled bodies who hang out on the beaches and turn girls’ heads.

And I am made to excite and fascinate these men, in the poshest streets, on the ballroom floor dressed in a revealing gown, at the beach dressed just in a string tanga, the kind Brasilians call ‘dental floss,’ with Marie’s platinum flower sparkling and reflecting sunshine from my naked breasts.

And it is remarkable how few hang-ups these tough Latin men have. They treat me every way a lady, they are so gallant and observant. What is hidden between my legs is no secret, neither to them, nor to my agency, nor to the photographers, nor to the fashion houses.

Rich and successful men adore me: I am tall and beautiful, I certainly look as if I cost a fortune in designer clothes, jewelry, sports cars, furs and dinners. As I walk by their side through the doors of the Casino de Monte Carlo, it is obvious to everyone that they can afford to court the most beautiful lady on the Côte d’Azur.

Well, I am really a she-male, but they really do not care. It even brings an extra frisson of sexual attraction to some of them: wealthy men love to dominate other men. Having sexual power over a divine and radiant young and healthy boy with a baby-cock and firm and silky tits, dressed in high heels and lingerie is the ultimate kick for many rich and powerful men on the Riviera.

I mean, men who make a ritual of slowly disrobing a woman, fondling each part of her as she reveals it — that is quite to be expected. But with me, almost every time I get laid, my amant du jour indeed flatters me by also putting each garment on me again, at a leisurely pace, kissing and caressing my tanned skin. My collection of exquisite corsets and basques in hand-decorated leather or embroidered silk is growing rapidly, just because my lovers enjoy the ceremony of personally decorating my stunning body with its dual messages.

And the rich and mighty accept my very special clitoris, they proudly compare their own large swollen penises to my tiny member — as they see no threat, they even carefully and patiently caress my girl-cock and bring me to climax, before seeking their reward between my breasts, in my moist mouth or in my tight asshole.

I feel so alive on my back with a strong man thrusting deep into my abdomen, my silk-sheathed slender legs crossed around his waist — he is pouring into me his wonderful semen, his source of life. And although I insist on safety when I have sex, I feel I absorb a little part of each lover’s strength: I feel each lover’s virility builds a yet stronger femininity in me. And I am going to become very, very strong and feminine in time, as I have not had one single night alone these past three years now, unless I absolutely wanted to.

But my attitude to men may be changing in the future: for the next six months, I have a series of photo jobs for a tire company as a spoiled millionaire’s daughter biker broad displayed with a lethal black MC between my legs. They paid me quite a lot extra for the "disadvantage" of the image I had to put on: I had to work out for quite a while to build up some muscles, not much by male standards, but definitely athletic.

My hair is now cropped to a half inch and bleached almost white; it gives a remarkable contrast to my tan. I am dramatically made-up and wear "artificially worn," absolutely painted-on, black leather pants that cling to the crack of my ass and even make the contours of my knee-caps show, not to mention my well-formed false female parts.

Just perfecting the image took a few days: the image director showed me how to baby oil my legs and butt and saturate the pants with oil to get the correct adhesion, tried the pants on, but had to remove them and shave my bush to get the paper-thin leather absolutely slick. Spike-heel boots, of course, a "worn" strapless leather brassiere, also thin and oiled, and occasionally, a heavy black leather jacket, very short, it shows eight inches of my tanned flat tummy. I wear only one thin and oiled leather glove that goes well past my right elbow, while my left hand sports enameled and jewel-covered false nails almost two inches long.

A few things came up during those trial-and-error days of perfecting my biker chick image: my tits did not come out right in the first pictures: they were the right size, but there was a need for extra depth and shadow. The solution was obvious: my nipples were injected with collagen, causing them to swell and harden to the size and shape of baby-bottle nipples. It is just a temporary effect, and the injections have to be renewed every six months, but I was handsomely paid for the extra annoyance. A new form-fitting brassiere had to be ordered, and the result is really quite spectacular. Even the photo crew people, who have seen literally everything through their view-finders, keep pestering me in a friendly joking way to be allowed to suckle on my new tits through the smooth leather of my brassiere.

The first thing I did after I came home the night after that first shooting day on the set was I stood in front of my full length mirror, lifted my left tit in my cupped hand and put my wet lips to my nipple. I felt the taste of the oily leather and the mouth filling form of the nipple so strongly, that even though my nipple itself was numb from the injection, the sensation in my mouth made me orgasm immediately.

Among the drawbacks for the image director was that fake jewelry did not come out well. They had to provide me with ¤ 300,000 worth of genuine stuff, mostly diamonds and platinum, to get the correct highlights expected for a millionaire’s offspring. As I could put up full insurance, I was allowed to use the jewelry whenever I cared to.

And now and then, I require a different spectacular body painting, supposed to appear as a big tattoo, covering my entire arm, all over the belly, or between my shoulder blades: Serpents, dragons, battle scenes, eagles and mythical patterns, extremely detailed and colourful.

The paintings are artist’s originals, they are applied by hand by Ingrassi, the famous Italian, whenever a new series of photos is to be made.

I really fancied my new image, and have stayed in the outfit for a couple of weeks now, going shopping and attending parties. Suddenly the toughest men became so tame, like well-trained puppies, and I am getting the weirdest ideas of how to take advantage of that!

My beautiful well-trained body towers over almost all men, as six-inch heels lift my now six-foot height in stockinged feet quite a bit. I become the focus of all male attention and all female envy wherever I appear. Activity stops wherever I come: a cat-like walk, athletic appearance, a lot of exposed young female skin, slender muscles moving through oiled leather, taut nipples, spike heels, a fortune in diamonds and an Ingrassi original on the right side of my belly, disappearing below the leather on my hip! I am used to attention, but suddenly I am the hub of the world!

Oh God, six months like this... I certainly will enjoy it, and the men of the Côte d’Azur will never forget!





© 2002 by Lexie Byrd. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.