The Unofficial Biography Of Kimmay

Prequel: The Nature Of Love

by G L Hudson

 

CHAPTER 8

 

Excerpts from Melissa's and Cynthia's diaries

 

Thanksgiving weekend was approaching.  Cynthia had asked Matt to come back to Milwaukee and meet Cynthia's parents.  Cynthia had also said that she and Melissa would be going out with Valerie and some other old friends.  She wanted Melissa to meet all of her friends.  At first, Matt was apprehensive about everyone knowing about Melissa.   But Matt was becoming less and less important, and Melissa was gaining more and more importance.

Cynthia and Matt arrived at Cynthia's parents' house Wednesday evening.  Cynthia took her old bedroom, and Matt took the guest bedroom.  Thursday, the four of them enjoyed dinner together.  Cynthia's mother had prepared a feast and everyone ate her fill.  After dinner, Cynthia's father retired to the family room to watch the football games and snooze in his favorite chair.  Matt was asked to remain in the kitchen and help with dishes.

When dishes were finished and everything was finished, the three of them sat down at the kitchen table.  They talked for a while, and then Cynthia's mother brought up the important topic of the evening.  "Are we all going shopping tomorrow?"  Everyone agreed.  "Good, we'll have lots of fun together.  Matt, I want you to join us in one of our favorite rituals."

"I would love to," he said.

"That's nice," she said.  "Cynthia would you go get some towels, shampoo and the rollers from the bathroom, and we can take turns setting each others' hair."

Matt was stunned.  'Set each others' hair?'  Had he heard right?  "Cynthia, let me come help you," and he followed her out of the kitchen.  When they were alone, he started shooting questions at her.  "Did I hear right?  We're going to set our hair?"

"Yes."

"Me included?"

"Yea."

"But, me?  Did you tell your mother about me?  I mean, about Melissa?"

"Of course, she knows all about Melissa.  I have been sending her your pictures for weeks."

Matt's knees almost gave out.  "And your father?  Does he know too?"

"I suppose so.  I'm not sure though."

Matt was devastated.  "But what will he think of me?  That I'm a fairy or homo?  Cynthia, this isn't right!"

Cynthia turned to Matt and took his hands.  "Sweetie, don't worry.  Both mom and dad really like you.  They like Matt and Melissa.  In fact, mom is really looking forward to meeting Melissa.  And as for dad, when we get back to the kitchen let me show you something."

They found the towels and shampoo, the crème rinse, setting lotion and the rollers.  They took them back to the kitchen.  Cynthia started towards the family room, "Mom, where are the pictures of dad?" 

"Right here, darling.  I have them in the kitchen."

Cynthia returned to the kitchen and took the book from her mom.  "Here Matt, take a look at this album."  Cynthia flipped through the book and showed Matt several old pictures of her dad.  He had long, curly hair.  "See his hair?  It's curly."

"Yea," said Matt.  "I see."

"Well, it wasn't naturally curly."  She jumped several pages forward and showed Matt pictures of her dad with rollers in his hair.  "See?  Dad used to have mom set and curl his hair all the time.  So there is nothing to be concerned about.  Dad understands perfectly."

Matt was surprised, relieved and thankful.  All was well once again.

Cynthia's mom called him back to reality.  "Matt, go get ready."

"Get ready?" 

Cynthia took Matt by the hand and led him down the hall towards the bedrooms.  "Go put on your negligee and robe.  I packed both of your negligees.  Use you lavender one.  I'll go change too."

"We're going to wear our negligees?"

"Sure.  We are going to wear the rollers to bed, and it's hard to get your sweater off and over your head when it is full of rollers.  So, we get ready for bed first.  Makes sense, no?"

They both returned to the kitchen, and Cynthia's mother had the water in the sink running.  "Melissa, you will be first.  Come here and let's get your hair shampooed."

Matt's hair was now half way down his ear.  It was actually getting long, as far as Matt was concerned.  Melissa thought otherwise.  Cynthia placed a towel around Melissa's neck and then took the spray hose and wetted her hair.  Cynthia poured a large dollop of shampoo in her hand and rubbed it into Melissa's hair.  She massaged it in and built up a nice lather.  Cynthia massaged Melissa's scalp and hair for a good five minutes, then rinsed the shampoo out.  Cynthia repeated the operation with the crème rinse.  She took the towel and blotted Melissa's hair and then led her to the kitchen table.

After combing Melissa's hair and parting it down the center, Cynthia took one side and her mother took the other side.  They each sectioned her hair, applied some gel and rolled the hair.  Working together, they had Melissa's hair rolled up in less than fifteen minutes.

Cynthia was next.  Melissa washed and serviced Cynthia at the sink.  First Melissa shampooed Cynthia's hair, and then applied the crème rinse.  After massaging the crème rinse for a few minutes, Melissa rinsed it out and draped a towel over Cynthia's head.  Cynthia's mother combed out the hair and again parted it down the middle.  She then showed Melissa how to section the hair, apply the setting gel, roll up the hair curler and pin it.  Mom continuously reviewed Melissa's work and offered her tips.

When Cynthia was finished, she washed her mother's hair.  Melissa and Cynthia rolled mom's hair and completed her set.

They sat and talked for a couple of hours.  They discussed their plans for Friday.  They would meet up in the evening with Valerie and some other old friends of Cynthia.  Melissa enjoyed the conversation.  Cynthia's mom quizzed Melissa about her studies, her childhood and kept Melissa involved in the conversation the entire evening.  As the evening wore on, Melissa could feel her hair dry and the rollers tighten a little.  She loved the feeling.

It was finally time for bed.  Melissa followed Cynthia down the hall and turned towards the guest bedroom.  Cynthia grabbed her hand, "Where do you think you're going?" she asked Melissa.

"To the guestroom."

"No your not.  Matt sleeps in there.  Melissa sleeps with me in my bedroom."  Melissa smiled. "Before we go to bed, don't forget your bedtime routine.  Noxema, shave, moisturizer, teeth and deodorant.  Now go."

When Melissa finished in the bathroom, Cynthia took her turn.  Melissa was waiting in bed for Cynthia's return.  Cynthia pulled the bedclothes down to the bottom of the bed.  She fluffed her pillow and propped it against the headboard.  She sat against the pillow, spread her legs and patted the bed between her open legs.  "Sweetie, since you were such a good little girl during your hair set, I have a little gift for you."

Melissa didn't need any more of an invitation.  She crawled between Cynthia's legs, lifted her negligee and began to kiss Cynthia's inner thighs.  Cynthia leaned back and enjoyed the pleasure.  She gave Melissa directions every so often, instructing Melissa on how best to please her.  Watching Melissa with the rollers in her hair excited Cynthia more than usual.  Melissa was starting to look and act so feminine.  That alone excited Cynthia.  Cynthia closed her eyes and moaned softly.

When Cynthia was satisfied, she pulled Melissa up to her and gave her a long, passionate kiss.  She parted Melissa's lips and pressed her tongue into Melissa's mouth, tasting her own scent and juices.   She rolled them over to position herself on top of Melissa.  Cynthia kissed Melissa a little longer, then picked up a condom from the bedside stand and rolled it over Melissa's erection.  Cynthia slid herself down onto Melissa's penis and slowly began pumping up and down over the penis inside her.  She quickly brought Melissa to orgasm.

Friday morning, the two of them slept in until Cynthia's father had left for the office.  They joined Cynthia's mother in the kitchen and had a leisurely breakfast.  After coffee, they unrolled each other's hair and brushed it out.  Cynthia and her mother styled Melissa's hair into a pageboy.

"Melissa's hair is almost long enough to wear out in public," mom said.

Cynthia agreed, "She has plenty of body and it has a beautiful sheen.  Melissa, your hair is going to be beautiful.  Mom is right, I think you could actually wear it out shopping today."  Melissa looked in the mirror and had a slight scowl on her face.  Cynthia saw the look.  "Of course it is your choice.  I think you would be fine with your own hair."  Melissa chose to stay with her wig.

They all returned to their bedrooms to dress.  Melissa asked Cynthia to tighten her corset.  After pulling the laces tight Cynthia exclaimed, "Melissa!  My goodness, I've pulled your corset as tight as it goes.  Wow!  You must have lost a lot of weight."

Melissa smiled proudly.  When I first started school, I weighed 135 pounds in gym class.  I was very hefty then.  But this week I weighed in at 119.  I've lost sixteen pounds."

Cynthia was obviously impressed and pleased.  "That's fantastic! How much lower do you plan to go?"

"I still have a little more flab around my tummy and sides.  Realistically, I think I can get down to 110."

"That's an ambitious goal.  That would be a total of 25 pounds.  You would look marvelous.  You might even make it down to a size 4."  Melissa was proud of herself.  "Wait here for just a minute.  I want to get my mom's tape measure and check you waist."  Cynthia returned in two minutes.  She wrapped the tape around Melissa's waist and checked the reading.  "You are down to 24 inches.  You've lost 2 inches!  Congratulations!" and Cynthia gave Melissa a big hug.  "We'll have to go back to Sophia's and get you a new corset."

With a smile on her face, Melissa finished dressing.  She wore a pleated, knee length, wool skirt with a tight, mock turtleneck sweater.  Cynthia's mother loaned her a pair of two-inch, sling back shoes.  Melissa put on her daytime makeup, added her wig and large hoop earrings and was finally ready.  Cynthia still had Valerie's camera, so a couple of pictures were taken before leaving the house.

They spent four hours shopping through the various malls.  Cynthia and her mom often fell behind Melissa and watched her as she walked through the aisles of clothes.  "Do you think she walks like a girl, mom?"

"Close, but not quite.  She still needs more experience.  I think she tries to wiggle her hips too much.  Tame her down a bit."

"Yea, I've been thinking the same.  You notice all of the attention that she draws from the boys?"

"That could be another problem.  She enjoys it a little too much in my opinion.  That could get her in trouble sometime."

"I agree, mom.  Another problem is her voice.  It works in a loud nightclub, but the salesgirls look at her a little funny.  Mom, would you do me a favor?"

"Of course, dear."

"In the next store, hang back away from us.  After we leave, ask the salesgirl if there was something odd or different about the girl she just helped.  See if she says anything."

The next store was a juniors dress shop.  Cynthia convinced Melissa to try on a couple of dresses.  After they left, mom talked with their salesgirl.  "You were right, dear.  She said that at first, when you walked into the store she didn't notice anything unusual.  But when Melissa spoke, she started to wonder.  By the time Melissa had tried on the dresses and left, the girl was pretty certain that Melissa wasn't a girl."

"Thanks, mom.  I was afraid that might be the case.  We will have to do something about her voice, some kind of voice training.  In the meantime, I'll try and speak for her as much as possible."

They returned home late in the afternoon with several bags of clothes.  Cynthia's mom re-heated some turkey and potatoes from Thanksgiving dinner.  She poured everyone a small glass of wine just as dad arrived home.  He kissed his wife and daughter, and then looked at Melissa.  Melissa stood there, frozen in her tracks.  She felt as awkward as anyone could feel.  She was dating and making love to this man's daughter, and here she was, dressed as a girl.  How many fathers wanted their daughter to marry a girly transvestite?  Cynthia's father walked over to Melissa and gave her a hug.  Melissa stood there with her hands by her sides.

"Do you have a name?" he asked.

A tiny voice said, "Melissa."

"Melissa, welcome to our house.  I expect you to make Cynthia happy."  After staring into Melissa's eyes for a couple seconds he smiled.  And that was Melissa's welcome to the family.

Cynthia and Melissa helped mom with the dishes after dinner, and then went to get dressed for the evening.  Melissa donned her black, 'witches' dress.

After changing, Cynthia and Melissa sat down with dad and watched TV until the doorbell rang.  "Be careful tonight," he said as they headed to the front door.

"We will, dad," and Cynthia gave her dad a goodnight kiss.

When they opened the front door, 4 girls were waiting for them.  The first girl in the door was Valerie.  She gave Cynthia a big hug and then Melissa.  "Melissa, it is wonderful to see you again.  You look beautiful tonight.  Melissa, I want you to meet Vickie," they gave each other a hug.  "This is Vickie's girlfriend Tammy.  And this is Sheila."  They each gave Melissa a hug.  "Sheila was Cynthia's roommate in college."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you."

"Ok, enough with the introductions.  Let's go party."  Valerie led them out of the house and out to Sheila's SUV.  Sheila drove them to downtown Milwaukee where they entered a high-energy disco.  Valerie hung back for a couple of minutes to make sure the bouncer didn't recognize two Valerie Andersons entering. The music was loud and the dance floor was already full.  The girl's took over a table after Valerie used her usual charms to confiscate it from two guys.  She actually bought them both a beer to get the table.

It was another great evening for Melissa.  She still wasn't a good dancer, but with a packed dance floor, no one could tell.  They had boys stopping by all night.  The boys would pick various girls off the table and take them out on the dance floor.  Melissa was asked to dance five times, and she agreed four times.

When she wasn't dancing, Melissa was answering questions from the other girls.  It was immediately obvious that they all knew about Melissa's 'other' life.  They treated Melissa like she had been their best friend for twenty years.  Cynthia returned Valerie's camera, and Valerie used it to take pictures all night, including at least a dozen in the girl's restroom.

As usual, Cynthia and Melissa stayed with soft drinks, while the other girls proceeded to get tipsy.  Cynthia drove everyone home and kept Sheila's SUV.  They used it the next night when they picked up everyone.  This time they went to a country and western bar.  It was a replay of Friday night, and was enjoyed by everyone, especially Sheila.  Sheila went home with a guy, so Cynthia handled the driving duties again.

On Sunday morning, the girls said their goodbyes and returned to South Bend.  It had been a very successful vacation for both girls.  For Cynthia, Melissa was now welcomed into the family and she had been accepted by some of Cynthia's friends.  For Melissa, she had enjoyed another two days dressing as Melissa.  And better yet, the two of them had enjoyed three nights making love to one another.

 

CHAPTER 9

 

Excerpts from Melissa Ann May's diary

 

I finished my last final exam on Friday December 19.  I moved my final possessions to Cynthia's house that night.  I was finished with the dorms and was permanently living with Cynthia.  In celebration, we went out to dinner that night.  We returned to Cynthia's and spent two hours in her photo studio.  I wanted to try out some new ideas I had seen in photography books that week.  Cynthia posed in the nude and was an excellent model.  After the photo session, we both slipped into our negligees and I tried out some new software for adding special effects to our pictures.

On Saturday morning, Cynthia told me to wear one of her thong panties, but not my usual corset, bra and camisole.  I thought that we might be going to Sophia's.  We did go to Sophia's, but first we went to Cynthia's beauty salon.  I sat down with a Glamour Magazine, but was quickly interrupted by a beautician.  "Matt? I'm ready.  Would you come with me?"  I was surprised.  Obviously, Cynthia had set up something for me.  As we walked towards the back, she introduced herself as Lisa.  "Do you always wax your legs?"

So that was what this was about.  A tingling sensation ran through my body as I thought about getting my legs waxed.  "No," I said.  "This is my first time."

After leading me into her room she told me, "Take your pants, socks and shoes off, and then you can cover yourself with this skirt.  I'll give you a couple of minutes then come back."  It was a terry cloth skirt.  I stripped down to my thong, and now understood why Cynthia instructed to me dress this way.  Lisa soon returned.  "Please lay down on this table and I'll begin."

She stirred a full pot of warm wax, then took a large tongue depressor and spread the wax over my lower leg.  I actually got goose bumps as the warm wax covered my skin.  Next, she took a piece of cloth and laid it on the waxed area.  She rubbed it down tight into the wax.  "Ok, I am going to pull it off," she warned me.  The beautician pulled the cloth as fast as she could, against the hair direction.  It ripped off the hair and stung, but not as bad as I had feared.  Lisa immediately pressed her open palm against the now clean skin.  "Applying pressure helps reduce the pain for most people," she explained.

"Thanks," I said.  The pressure did seem to help.

Lisa spent the better part of the next hour, waxing both of my legs.  She had me roll over and pull the skirt up, so she could wax my buttocks.  Next she had me roll over onto my back and then asked, "You wanted a bikini wax, right?"

I had no idea what I wanted.  "Yes," I said.  I was told to lift the skirt up, and she started to apply wax around the edges of my thong.  She had me hold the thong to the side so that she could also apply wax to some of my pubic hair.  She laid down the cloth and rubbed it tightly onto the wax.

"This might hurt a little more," she warned.  She ripped off the cloth.  Ouch!  It hurt a lot more.  This time it actually brought a few tears to me eyes.  She finally finished both sides of my thong.  "Ok, we're finished.  I am going to rub some lotion on your legs now.  It will help eliminate the stickiness from the wax, and it will help reduce the sting.  You will have lots of red bumps for a day or so, but that is normal.  Any questions?"

"No," I answered.

"Ok, you're done.  I'll let you change back into your clothes.  Come out front when you're ready," and then she left.

My legs were tingling a bit, but it wasn't painful.  It was another feminine experience and I liked it.  I dressed and walked out front.  Cynthia was waiting for me at the front desk.  "How did it go?" she asked.

"Fine," I said.  "It was a little painful, but it was ok.  I liked it," I whispered.

"Good," she said.  "You're not done, though.  Pamela is waiting for you at her station, over there," and she pointed towards Pamela.

"Is she going to trim my hair?" I asked.

"No, she's going to color your hair."  My eyes got big and I just looked at Cynthia.  She continued, "Remember when you colored your hair for your hair weave?"  I nodded yes.  "If you also remember, we agreed that the next time that you colored your hair, I could pick the color.  Right?"  I nodded yes again.  "Good.  You're going to love this.  Pamela is going to color your hair auburn.  Trust me, you will love it."  She turned me by my shoulders, gave me a pat on my little bottom and said, "Now go.  Pamela is waiting."

Pamela greeted me, and then led me to her styling chair. Pamela began mixing some dyes together, "I think Cynthia is right.  This color should look wonderful on you."

Throughout the coloring, Cynthia came over several times and took pictures of the process.  Neither Pamela nor Cynthia would let me look in the mirror as Pamela proceeded.  They wanted to surprise me when the coloring was done.  She finally finished everything, and styled my hair into a pageboy style.  I was allowed to finally look at myself in the mirror.

"What do you think?" Cynthia asked.

"I love it," I said.  And I really meant it.  I looked much different.  Much more 'finished'.  I'm not sure what words to use.  My hair looked much more like a girl's.  The color was much richer and thorough.  It made my pageboy look more realistic and feminine.  The overall effect was wonderful.  "Pamela, you're a magician.  Thank you very, very, much."

Pamela smiled.  "You're very welcome.  But give Cynthia credit.  She picked the color, and I think she did a great job."

On top of the color, I loved the feel.  The feel of my hair and my legs.  When Cynthia walked me out to the car, I gave her a kiss before I got into the car.  "Thanks," I whispered, "I love you."

When Cynthia sat down behind the wheel, she looked at me and said, "Freshen your lipstick.  I have something else to tell you.  We are going to Sophia's and get you a new corset.  You have out grown, or should I say under-grown your old one.  And then we are going home to dress Melissa.  And after Melissa is ready, we are going to buy swimsuits for the both of us."

"Swimsuits?  Oh my gosh, what have you got planned?"  I was anticipating something exciting.

"We're going to Key West for Christmas vacation, Sweetie.  What do you think about that?"

My heart started beating a mile-a-minute.  I was breathless.  I wasn't sure what to say.  "That sounds like fun," I said.  It was my understatement of the day.  I was enthralled.  I had visions of beaches and warm sunny afternoons, and maybe even sunbathing in a bikini.  The idea of being in a bikini made me very excited.

"Melissa is invited to mom and dad's for Christmas.  We're going tomorrow, and we're having Christmas on Monday.  Then Tuesday we drive back to South Bend and pack.  And on Wednesday we fly to Key West.  We come home the day after News Years day."

She watched me, waiting for my reaction.  I lunged across the car and gave her a huge hug.  "Are you sure we can afford this?" I asked.

"Positive.  Don't worry about a thing Sweetheart."  I gave her a huge kiss.

Then something made me think about what she had said.  "Melissa is invited to your parents?"

"Yes. Melissa.  Not Matt.  They want Melissa.  Isn't that wonderful?"

Everything seemed so perfect.  "It is.  I hope Melissa can measure up to their expectations.  I promise she will try her best."

We went to Sophia's and bought a new corset.  With the new corset, my waist was slimmed down to 23 inches.  There was still room in the corset to pull it tighter if I lost more weight.  I carried it home, because Cynthia didn't want me in a corset for our swimsuit shopping.  At home I changed into full Melissa. For the first time ever, I pulled stockings over my smooth legs, and buttoned them onto a garter belt.  They felt super.  I wore one of Cynthia's short skirts and a tight, V-neck sweater.  I didn't need to wear my wig.  My new hair looked beautiful.  I used the biggest hoop earrings that we had in our jewelry box.  I wanted to wear my three-inch heels, but Cynthia told me to wear my loafers.

We went to the mall and headed to the Venus Swimsuit shop.  Cynthia picked out several swimsuits for me.  She asked me to try on a two-piece bikini, and she joined me in the changing room and inspected me in the bikini.  "Not yet," she decided.  "But someday Melissa, you are going to look beautiful in that bikini."  I was disappointed, but hoped that she was right about the some day part.

After trying on several other suits, we settled on a black swim dress with a low neckline.  It had narrow straps that crossed in the back.  It was a tan-through suit.  Even though the dress covered my midriff, I would tan as if I were wearing a bikini.  I thought it was rather clever.

Upon leaving the swimsuit store, Cynthia suggested that we look for a sundress for me.  "I suspect that you might be a size smaller than me.  I was going to have us both use my sun dresses, but you might need your own."

We picked out a few sundresses, and took them back to the changing room.  As Cynthia had suspected, I was able to fit into a size four.  The size six was ok, but in some styles the size six was a bit too large.  We bought two dresses.  The first was a white dress with straps that crossed over in the back.  It fell to about two inches above my knees, where its hem was covered in appliqué.  The second dress was a floral print with spaghetti straps and a hem ending almost three inches above my knee.

I wanted to go out and celebrate, but Cynthia was reluctant.  "We have a long day tomorrow, let's go home and take a few pictures.  I want some pictures of you with your new do and dresses.   Is that all right?  I'll make it worth your effort," she promised with a grin.  I found the offer acceptable.

On Sunday, we packed for Cynthia's parents, dressed and left before noon.  I was hoping that we would get another chance for the girls to set each other's hair.  But I was also a bit worried about how the arrival of Melissa would be accepted.  I thought her father liked me, but there is always room for a person to worry.  At times, it seems as if that is the meaning of a life; an opportunity to worry.  And probably worry about nothing.

It was a four-hour drive.  Cynthia did all of the driving, as usual.  She had once told me that because it was a company car it was best if only she drove.  If anything happened, it would be better from an insurance and an employment standpoint.  I didn't mind being chauffeured around all of the time.  There was something nice about someone else taking care of me.  I was getting used to it.

As my logical mind had told me, there was nothing to worry about.  Cynthia's dad greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.  I was surprised.  It made me feel like a real girl.  Mom kissed me on the lips.  It is hard to describe how I felt.  I never had a demonstrative family.  Unless you count cussing and belligerence, which was all my dad could accomplish.  And mom was so afraid of dad, that she also became cold and distant.  It felt great to be part of a real family.  In a small way, it made this the best Christmas I had ever had.  However, the United States government would change that.

On Monday, dad went into the office.  The girls were going to prepare a sumptuous meal for Monday evening.  But first, we had to make sure the girls would be presentable to dad.  So, much to my delight, Monday became hair day.  We spent the morning washing and setting our hair.  Mom complimented me several times concerning my hair.  I was floating on a cloud.  I loved being here with these people.  With our hair in curlers, we spent the rest of the day preparing turkey, stuffing, cranberries, mashed potatoes, peas, corn, squash and on and on. We even baked two apple pies.

I had never spent a day in the kitchen.  I learned so much, and I found it to be loads of fun.  Maybe it had something to do with the learning experience, but I'm sure that most of the satisfaction came from being with two women who loved me, and whom I loved.  It was another banner day in the life of Melissa.

Late in the afternoon, we removed our curlers, styled our hair and put on festive dresses. You have never seen so much red and green.  When dad came home, we went all out to welcome him home.  We presented him with his favorite scotch, fetched his slippers and seated him at the head of the table.  We brought out one dish after another.  For the finishing touch, mom placed the turkey in front of him and Cynthia gave him the electric carving knife.  He did a bang-up job carving our turkey.

Dinner was long and leisurely.  We sipped our wine and chatted away like a real family.  I had a wonderful time.  We finished dinner, cleared the dishes, and brought out the coffee and apple pie.  I was having a great time helping out.  I really felt like one of the girls.  Dad was given the responsibility of cutting the pies and dishing out the slices.  I was the 'ala-mode' girl.

It was the best dinner that I had ever had.  At the end of the dinner all of the girls received a hug and kiss from dad, including Melissa.

We stacked the dishes in the sink, and went to the living room to open presents.   Cynthia passed out the presents.  I received several presents, but was surprised to see so many from mom and dad.  We went around the room and took turns opening our gifts.  Mom and dad's generosity towards me was overwhelming.  They gave me a very expensive knee length, leather coat.  It had a fur collar.  They also gave me a pair of knee-high leather boots.  They had three-inch stiletto heels and a zipper on the inside.  They were very stylish. Cynthia gave me a beautiful purse with a long strap, to complete the outfit.  Not only would I be warm during the winter season, I would be very stylish.

Cynthia also gave me a large collection of stockings.  There were black, white and suntan stockings as well as thigh highs.  In addition, there were some elaborate stockings with back seams, and patterns.  They were all very pretty.

I gave Cynthia photography equipment.  I gave her a slave strobe, a wide-angle lens, another studio light that we could hang from the ceiling and a book on fashion photography.  I had one other present that I waited to give her in private.

We finished opening our presents, and mom brought everyone another glass of wine.  This was my second glass, and I was a little tipsy.  I felt warm and comfortable.  We talked for a long while before we finally decided to go to bed.  Surprisingly, I was allowed to follow Cynthia to her bedroom.  Dad never said a word.

We both completed our evening constitutional and met in her old bedroom.  Cynthia was wearing a black baby doll and I wore my short, red negligee.  I had Cynthia sit on the edge of the bed and I gave her my other present.  It was a white, silk negligee, covered with lace and appliqués.  Cynthia gave me a kiss and immediately put it on.  Then she presented me with another gift.  It was a very small box.  I audibly gasped when I saw it.  I was a little scared of what it might be.  I opened it and found a velvet box.  I looked at Cynthia and she gave me a guarded smile.  I opened the box and found a gold ring with a diamond.  "It's a friendship ring," she said.

"Holy shit," I whispered.  "It's some friendship ring.  It is gorgeous."  Before I could help myself, my eyes welled up with tears.

"Are you ok?" Cynthia asked.

I shook my head yes, and grabbed her in a huge bear hug.  I couldn't hold back my emotions.  I had never acted like this before.  It had been a wonderful day.  I had never felt so welcome and comfortable in my life.  It was as if my emotions were out of control.  I started crying on Cynthia's shoulder.

Again she asked, "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I've never been happier," I said. "I love you."  It just came out.  I had lost control.

Cynthia held me for a while longer.  She patted me on my back.  Somehow that felt reassuring.  "Would you like to make love?" she asked.

It was the perfect ending to the perfect day.

The next morning we said our goodbyes and left late in the morning.  I was sad to leave.  For the first time in my life, I felt the true love of a family.  It lifted my heart like nothing I can explain.  I was so happy I could have cried.  I did cry as we drove away.

When we arrived home, we packed our bags for our trip.  Matt would have to make the airplane trip.  With the tighter security, they would be looking very carefully at IDs and driver licenses.  Cynthia was going to take a carry-on for her cameras.  She packed my bra, corset and a pair of her dress slacks that would fit me.  Once we passed through security, I would go into a uni-sex bathroom and change into my feminine undies.

That was our agreement.  I would always wear my female under garments.

The next day we left for the airport.  We drove to the South Bend airport where we checked in.  The girl at the counter was rather slow when I checked in.  She seemed hesitant about something, and asked other people to look at my driver's license.  With my longer, colored hair I didn't look exactly like the picture on my license.

After clearing security, I took Cynthia's bag into the restroom and changed into my regular underwear.  I felt more comfortable in my usual clothes.  We flew to Chicago and changed planes for Key West.  We arrived around 5:00.  The first thing we did was attach my breast forms.  I loved the feel of their weight pulling on my chest.  We changed into our sundresses, put on our makeup and went out for a walking tour of the city.  We had a light dinner and went to one of the local clubs to watch the tourists and enjoy the nightlife.

On Thursday morning, we dressed and had breakfast.  Then Cynthia led us down the street.  We stopped in front of a beauty salon named Marie's.  "Melissa, I have a special surprise for you.  I have made arrangements for you to have a permanent.  We're going to give you a very curly hairstyle.  Is that ok?"

I was taken by surprise.  "But I just had my hair colored and styled," I protested.

"I had Pamela style your hair to fit the permanent that you will get here.  Everything will fit together perfectly.  You're going to look wonderful."

What could I say?   We went in and met the owner, Marie. "Welcome, girls.  How can I help you?"

"Hi.  I'm Cynthia and this is Melissa.  I called you a couple of weeks ago and made a reservation for Melissa to have a permanent.  Did you receive the pictures that I faxed?"

"Yes, I remember.  And yes I did receive the pictures.  Melissa, come with me and we will get started.  Your hair is cut perfectly for the style that you have requested.  And if I may say, I think that style will be excellent for your facial structure.  You are a very pretty girl, and when you leave my shop today, you will be irresistible to all of the boys," and she laughed.  She had a beautiful laugh. It was very contagious.

"This is Melissa's first permanent," Cynthia pointed out.  "Do you mind if I take a few pictures while you work?"

"Not at all.  Everyone should have pictures of their first permanent.  They belong in your scrapbook."  Marie turned to me, "Your first permanent?  How did a pretty girl like you grow up without getting a permanent?"

"My mother didn't believe in them," I said.  The morning was a blur of activity and new sensations.  The tactile pampering from Marie was exhilarating.  I loved having her massage my head and hair during my shampoo.  I loved the feel of her pulling a comb through my hair, rolling my hair, and squirting the different solutions on the rolled hair.  Sitting under the dryer with the hot hair whooshing around my ears felt great.  As I enjoyed the sensations, I again thought that all men should be allowed to spend time in a beauty salon and be pampered like this.  It would make the world a lot less stressful!

The best part was looking into the mirror when Marie had finished.  My head was covered with tight curls.  The top of my head was combed flat, and the sides were covered with the curls.  The effect was to make my hair look wide, like they were sticking from the sides of my head.  It was a very contemporary style and it made me look more feminine than I had ever looked, or felt.  I thought that I truly looked like a beautiful woman.  And best of all, it was all my hair.  No wig, no weave.  It just looked too wonderful for words.

When Marie wasn't looking, I gave Cynthia a big hug and kiss.  "I love it.  I love you," I whispered.

Walking back to the hotel was a new sensation.  My hair felt like it bounced with every step I took.  The wind blew it and it popped right back into position.  I looked in every window we passed to see my reflection.  I was on cloud 9.

We went back to the hotel and put on our swimsuits.  We covered our selves with tanning lotion and headed to the pool.  "Remember, if you go in the pool, don't get your hair wet," Cynthia reminded me.  I remembered.  Marie had told me several times, and  I wasn't about to do anything that would jeopardize my new, curly hairstyle.

We spent the rest of the morning at the pool.  We read magazines and watched the other girls around the pool.  Cynthia pointed out different bathing suit styles, and hairstyles on the girls as they went by.  We watched the boys as they watched us.  It must have been too early in the day, because none of the boys approached us.

After lunch, we wrapped sarongs around our waists and put on light jackets and sandals for a walk around town.  Cynthia wore a wide-brimmed hat, but I didn't want anything to cover my new hairstyle.  We wandered through clothes and curio shops.  We stopped at two different sidewalk cafes for a cold soda.

Late in the afternoon, we returned to our room to clean up for the evening.  I made sure to wear a shower cap when I washed off my suntan lotion.  We did our nails, including our toes, and let them dry while we watched the evening news.  I wore my new white sundress and three-inch white heels.  I used my white clutch purse for the evening.  As usual, we took pictures of each other before we left.  As we walked out the door, I made sure the diamond on my friendship ring was properly aligned on my finger.  I took Cynthia's arm and followed her to dinner.  I did everything I could to look like a beautiful accessory on Cynthia's arm.  I wanted her to be proud of me.

Dinner was wonderful.  The fresh seafood was a delight.  After dinner we wandered to different clubs and danced throughout the night.  As usual we attracted our share of men.  I loved the attention and reaffirmation of my desirability.  I had no interest in any man.  I was interested only in Cynthia and being attractive to her.  The attention from the men strengthened my hope that I would be attractive to Cynthia.

We returned to our room after midnight. We both had new, summer negligees.  They were silk, light and shimmery.  They felt like a light breeze on a warm summer night.  The evening ended with us in bed and me between Cynthia's legs.  I tried my best to please and pleasure her.  It was the least that I could do for the woman who had made me so happy.

The rest of the week went the same.  Tanning in the morning, sightseeing in the afternoon, dancing in the evening, and finishing with passionate lovemaking.  By the end of the week, we both had great tans.  My tan-through swim dress had worked to perfection.  I had a deep tan and it looked like I had been wearing a bikini.  I thought that I looked much sexier with the tan, and I knew Cynthia's tan made her look sexier.

The end of the trip came too soon.  The last evening was sad, knowing that the next morning we would be heading back to the great, white north and the snow and cold. We had breakfast at the hotel and then headed to the airport, and the worst nightmare of my life.

We arrived at the airport, and had a porter take our luggage to the check-in counter.  Cynthia checked in and then it was my turn.  The girl was very elusive when talking with me.  She asked for my drivers license three times.  She had two other people look at it.  I could tell something was up, but I had no idea what was coming.  She finally finished, made a couple of checks on my ticket and sent us to security.

At security I went first.  The TSA agent looked at my ticket and said, "Please step over here."  I followed him to the side and another man came over.  "Come with me," the new TSA agent said.

"Is there a problem?" I asked.

"Just shut up and follow me."  I looked behind me and saw Cynthia going off with another agent.  I was scared.  He led me to a room and told me to enter.  After I stepped in, I heard the door locked behind me.  I was starting to freak out.  I hated being confined.  The room had a table, one chair and two cameras in the ceiling corners. The room was stark, cold and intimidating.

I sat there for at least 30 minutes before anyone returned.  Two large men came in. They looked like brothers.   One walked over to the other side of the room and the other approached me. He was wearing latex gloves.  "Stand," he demanded.  I stood.  "Spread you legs and hold your arms up."  I did what I was told.  He patted me down.  He was rough and he patted me everywhere, including my crotch.  "Take off your shirt."

"What?" I said.  I couldn't do that, he would see my tan and I would be dead.

He took a step towards me and said very loudly, "You heard me. Take off your shirt."  I did.  The atmosphere changed immediately.  The guy on the other side of the room started snickering.  My guy took a step back and folded his arms.  "My, my, my.  What have we here?  Don't you look pretty," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do we have a little pussy boy?"  He turned to the other TSA agent, "You better call in the girls just in case."  Then he turned back to me, "Take off your socks and shoes and pants."

I was left standing there with just my bikini panties when the other man returned with two girls.  "Ohhh, isn't this nice," one of them said.  "She's as pretty as you said, Joe Reggie.  And what pretty little toe nails.  Such a becoming color for her."  She looked towards my tormentor, "Jeff, let's see her full tan."

Jeff took a step towards me, trying to intimidate me as much as possible.  It was working, he was at least 6'2" and 225 pounds.  He could have crushed me with one hand.  "Take off the panties little girl," he ordered. I took off my panties and stood there naked in front of these strangers.  I felt about two inches tall.

The second girl made another comment, "Damn, Jeff.  I wish I had a tan that nice.  Hey, sweetie, how long did it take you to get that tan?"

I stared at her and didn't say a word.  I knew exactly what they were doing and although I was scared to death, I was starting to get pissed.  She was acting just like my dad.  She was a bully, just like everyone else in this room.  They enjoyed this.  They enjoyed using their authority to humiliate and belittle someone else.

"Not very talkative are we?" she said.

Jeff took a tube of K-Y jelly out of his coat pocket.  "Ok, sissy boy. Bend over the table."

"Why?" I demanded.

He ominously walked right up to me, bent over in my face and said, "Because I said so faggot.  Now do it."  The others chuckled.  He coated one of the fingers on his latex gloves.  He stepped behind me and used his left hand to hold me on the table and shoved his finger up my ass.  My god it hurt. I screamed.

"I think she likes it," the one called Joe Reggie said.  "She's probably not used to something so small being shoved up her ass."

"That's right," one of the girls said.  "Maybe you need to pull out that big cock of yours and shove that up her little pussy.  I'll bet she likes that more."  They all laughed.

Meanwhile he was shoving his finger in as far and as hard as he could.  He was being as rough as he could possibly be.  He must have had his finger up my ass for over a minute.  When he pulled his finger out, I almost collapsed.  I couldn't believe the pain.  He looked at the others, "For the record, cavity search completed, no contraband."  Then he bent over my ear and said, "Was that good for you too, homo-fag?"

They took my clothes and they all left.  I was sitting in the room naked for another fifteen or twenty minutes.  The air conditioning was running at full speed.  I was freezing.  All I could do was try to curl up in the chair as best I could.  I had been in this room for a total of an hour or more, I had been stripped, cavity searched, humiliated, taunted, tortured and they had yet to ask me a single question.  They were loving this.  I just knew they were watching me in their camera and laughing.  I was aching from the pain of the cavity search.  I wanted to cry.  I wanted some one from my country to come defend me.  It didn't happen.

Jeff and Joe Reggie eventually returned.  "Can I have my clothes, please?  I'm freezing."

"No."

"Why not."

"They're being inspected."

"For what?"

"Traces of explosives."

"You can't be serious."

"This is very serious and you are in heap of trouble boy."  I kept my mouth shut and glared at him.  Another mental midget with a little power.  How could people be so stupid to think jerks like this were protecting them?  And they wanted to give this government even more authority to strip away our rights and dignity.  I wasn't sure if I was angrier with these barbarians or with Americans who supported this.

Jeff had brought a second chair into the room with him.  He sat down in the chair and set a tape recorder in front of him.  He took out a notepad and a list of questions.  Joe Reggie walked over behind me and stood over me.  "I will ask questions and you will answer."

My anger was taking over for my common sense.  "The tape recorder is a nice touch.  You don't think the two cameras will record this?" I asked sarcastically.

Joe Reggie clipped me on the back of my head so hard that he knocked me onto the floor.  I stood up and walked back over to my chair and sat down.  "The lord told me to smite him down, and I smote him," he said to Jeff.  They both thought this was very funny.

Jeff began, "What is your name?"

"Matthew Kaufmann."

"What is your address?"

I gave him my dormitory address.

"How old are you?"

"18"

He went through a series of innocuous questions. Then the serious questioning began.

"When did you come to Key West?"

"December 25^th."

"How long have you been here?"

"Since December 25."  Stupid question!

"What was the purpose of your trip?"

"Vacation."

"Did you come alone?"

"No."

"How many people came with you?"

"One."

"Who?"

"Cynthia May."

"Is she a friend?"

"Yes."

Next I received another series of stupid questions about Cynthia, her address, her line of work, etc. etc.

"Did you meet anyone here?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"The usual people you meet on a vacation.  Hotel clerks, waitresses, store clerks."

"Did you meet anyone else?"

"I just told you."

"Did you meet any non-citizens?"

"I don't know.  There may have been some illegal aliens here."

"Where did you go while you were here?"

 "The usual places; shops, tourist spots, restaurants.  The usual."

"Did you leave Key West and go anywhere else?"

"No."

"Did you take any boat rides?"

"No."

"Why did you change your appearance while you were here?"

"What?"

"You heard me.  Answer the question."

I was stumped at first, but then it hit me; my permanent.  "You mean my hair?"

"Why did you change your hair?"

"Because I wanted to.  My girlfriend asked me to.  She thought it would look cute."

"Your girlfriend?  This Cynthia?"

"Yes."

"This Cynthia, is she a girl or a boy?" 

I didn't answer.

So that is what it was all about.  I had gotten a permanent.  As they went through more and more questions, I decided that they must be using computerized biometric software to identify people.  That explained the odd looks when I checked in at South Bend.  My hair color had been changed.  That explained the problems here.  All of the curls gave me a much different look.  Their stupid, incompetent software had identified me as a possible terrorist.  I was being terrorized and humiliated because they had rushed untested software into operation.

The questions continued for another thirty minutes.  Finally, the terrorist brothers finished.  They leaned out the door and called someone.  One of the girls walked in with Cynthia's carry-on.  My heart skipped a beat.  They must be interrogating Cynthia also.  These people really were jerks.  The girl set the bag on the table in front of me, and then looked at me.  "Sweet heart, that really is a nice tan.  I wish I had the time to sit around and work on a tan.  And I love your hair."  Obviously she had been listening in to my interrogation.  "Where did you get the permanent?"  I didn't answer.  She grabbed my right nipple and squeezed it as hard as she could and twisted it.  I screamed.  It hurt like hell.  I had never felt such pain.  "I asked you a question faggot.  Where did you get the permanent?"

"Marie's."

"There, that wasn't so hard was it?"  She pulled Cynthia's bag across the table and in front of us.  She opened it up and took out my brassiere.  "Isn't this a pretty bra?" she asked as she showed it around the room so that the other TSA agents could see it.  "Is it yours?" she asked me.

"Yes."

"What?  I couldn't hear you pussy boy."  That brought out smirks from everyone else.

"Yes," I said.

She threw it in my lap, "Put it on.  We want to see how well it fits."  I put on the bra.  "How precious," she said.  "It fits her so well, don't you think so, Jeff?"

"Oh yes," he said.  "The faggot looks very pretty."

She pulled out my camisole.  "Is this yours?"

"Yes."

"Put it on."  I did as I was told. They all laughed and made more derogatory remarks.  They kept heaping more and more humiliation on me.

She pulled out the black bikini panties that I had been wearing originally.  "Are these yours too, little sissy?"

"Yes."

"Put them on."  She proceeded to pull out my corset, stockings, sweater and Cynthia's dress slacks.  When I was dressed, she said, "Well I guess our little sissy is all dressed.  Isn't she pretty?"  They all threw a few more insults at me.

She turned to me.  "Well Matt, or whatever your sissy name is, you can leave.  Take this bag.  Your suitcase is outside the door.  Take it and go home.  We really don't need your type here in Key West.  We already have enough faggots.  Get out."

I took Cynthia's bag, picked up mine outside the door and started walking away.  I was shaking with rage and humiliation.  I saw Cynthia ahead of me.  I walked up to her and she asked me if I was ok.  "Keep walking," I said and I led her away from the TSA offices.

We walked out to the baggage return area and sat down.  "Why are you wearing those clothes?" she asked.

I was shaking so hard I couldn't speak.  I had been totally humiliated and abused.  "They made me put them on.  One by one this girl took them out of your bag, showed them to everyone in the room and then made me put them on in front of everyone."  I was whispering and could barely control my voice.  It kept wanting to crack or fade away.

"You had to dress in front of them?   Why?  Did they make you undress in front of them also?"

"Yes.  They stripped me and gave me a cavity search."

"What?"  Her voice was too loud.  I didn't want anybody to overhear us.  I shushed her a little.

"They stripped me, made fun of me, and my tan.  Insulted and ridiculed me.  Called me faggot and sissy and homo.  They were just like my dad.  A bunch of mean, arrogant jerks.  They're the friggin' terrorists in this country."

"Slow down, you're going too fast.  They made you strip down and then gave you a cavity search?"  Cynthia couldn't believe what she was hearing.  "My God!  What else did they do?"

I was calming down a bit.  My heart rate was still well over a hundred beats per minute.  I tried to tell the full story.  "They left me in the room alone for at least half an hour.  Then two barbarians came in and searched me, then told me take off my clothes.  As soon as I took off my shirt, they saw my tan. They called a couple of girls in to watch as they made me strip down all the way.  They kept calling me names and insulting me.  Then they all left and made me sit there naked for I don't know how long.  The air conditioning was turned on high and I was freezing.  They were sitting outside watching me on their cameras."  I had to stop and take a breath and slow myself down.

"They came in and started asking questions.  I was getting really mad and smarted off to one of them, and he hit me on the back of the head and knocked me to the floor.  They asked questions for almost an hour.  Do you know why they did this?  I figured it out.  Because I colored my hair and had a permanent."

"What?  That doesn't make any sense at all."

"They must have this new face-recognition software in place.  It made it look like I changed my appearance.  So they thought I was a terrorist.  What a joke!  They're the friggin' terrorists.  After they finished asking questions, this girl brought in your handbag.  She started making fun of me again, and asked where I got my permanent.  I didn't answer her, so she grabbed my nipple and tried to squeeze it off.  Cynthia, it hurt.  I've never felt such pain.  She laughed.  They all laughed.  Then she started pulling out my clothes one by one and made me dress in front of them.  I have never felt so small, so humiliated.  And all of that so they could act like the jerks they are."  I was running out of breath.  I had to slow down.  Cynthia just sat there and felt sorry for me.

"What happened to you?  When they took me away, I saw them lead you away also."

"They took me to another room," Cynthia began, "and took away my hand-bag.  They came back in about ten minutes later with my camera.  They were looking at the pictures in the preview screen.  They asked if I took the pictures, I said yes.  Then they asked who you were.  I told them you were Matt Kaufmann.  Then they asked a couple more questions concerning you cross-dressing, your hair permanent and styling, tanning, dancing.  It was all right there for them to see.  They knew everything.  There was nothing I could say."

"Did they search you, too?"

"No.  That was all they did.  They told me to wait outside.  They kept my bag, and said it would be delivered to me when they were through with it.  I asked when that might be, and they never answered.  They kicked me out the door and I've been sitting in the lounge waiting for you ever since.  I was a wreck.  I didn't know what to do.  Should I call someone?  Go knock on their door and ask for you?  I was at a complete loss.  All I could do was sit there and worry more and more.  I was thinking that I should call my dad."

"They did nothing to you?" I asked.  She shook her head no.  "Those fucking bastards," I blurted out.  "They knew all along.  Before they even came into my room they had already seen all of the pictures.  They had talked with you and knew everything.  They knew I was no terrorist.  They did the whole thing to embarrass and humiliate me."  I started shaking with anger again.

"My God," Cynthia repeated.  "It was all done so they could have some fun at someone else's expense.  We should complain. We could sue them."

"Who are you going to complain to?" I asked.  "It's their word against mine.  They would rip me apart in the press.  There is nothing we can do and they know it.  They're laughing at us right now.  The pictures from their cameras are probably being copied and sent to all their TSA buddies as we speak.  They have us."  I was starting to cry again.

She held my hand for a minute while I calmed down.  "Let's get out of here," I said.

"Our flight is long gone, let's see when the next one leaves."

"No!" I said.  "I will not fly again.  I will never let those bastards do that to me again."

"We have to fly, there is nothing else."

"Yes there is," I said.  "We can drive.  We can rent a car and drive.  We can take turns driving, but we are going to drive home.  I want out of this airport and this town.  I don't want to ever come back!"

Cynthia must have sensed how desperate I was.  She went to Hertz and rented a car with her employee discount.  It still cost us a fortune with the drop off fees.  But it was the only way as far as I was concerned.  It took us 32 hours to drive home and get Cynthia's car from the long-term parking at the airport.

It was now perfectly clear who the terrorists were.

(continued)

  

  

  

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