Author’s Prologue

This is a story that I have been sporadically working on for several years. It was not until I recently discovered that there were story sites, like Crystal’s, on which I could actually post it, did I make an endeavor to complete the writing. I did make a few changes though. Originally, my protagonist, "Tony" was to be "converted" into a "Susanne Sommers", "Chrissy" (Three’s Company) like character having nothing special in the way of the image she presented to the public. But when I recently saw a news report on "Trekies", I began to think in different directions, giving poor Tony yet another problem to deal with. The idea of him accidentally closely resembling a (somewhat) obscure actress, but with a cult following, was an irresistible opportunity to add a few humorous elements to the tale.

 

PART I

My Story starts several years ago. My name was then Anthony Zanzetti, but everybody just called me "Tony". I was a fifteen year old kid at the time this all started. I lived with my mother and sister in a small house on the North side of town. My father had been shot and killed two years earlier, by some thug who wanted to rob our family’s grocery store. Fortunately, Dad had taken out a good life insurance policy, and while It didn’t make us rich, It allowed us to keep our house and draw a small, but adequate income from the interest.

 

It was a Saturday afternoon. I was returning home from the video arcade, downtown, after I had spent my weekly quota of tokens. I was riding my skateboard on the sidewalk, when I noticed that my nemesis, Reggie Brown, the local bully, and his sycophant, "Arny", were on the street about half a block ahead of me and were walking in my direction.

Because I am short, only about 5 feet and an inch or two, (hey, blame it on my Italian heritage), I made the perfect victim, and Reggie, who was at least the inches taller, would not let any opportunity pass to harass me in one way or the other. His favorite name for me was "Big Nose" and he would call me that in an effort to draw me into a fight. Well, my nose may be a bit long, with a slight roman hump and a bit big for a kid’s face, but it was certainly not one of those large, hooked honkers that some people I know are cursed with. I knew that I would eventually "grow into" my nose and it would make me look more masculine, so Reggie’s taunts about it didn’t really bother me.

More often than not, however, Reggie didn’t seem to need to draw me into a fight. He would start one with me on his own. The "fights" mostly consisted of him punching me in the face or stomach and ending up with me writhing on the ground. Fortunately, this was usually enough to satisfy his urge for domination. He seldom found a need to take it further.

I wasn’t in a mood that afternoon to have another encounter with Reggie. Fortunately, neither he nor his toady had seen me, and I wasn’t going to give them the opportunity to do so. I decided that I was going to take the back way home. I quickly ducked into a convenient alley between two buildings and then turned into a narrow street that ran behind the restaurants. I nearly ran right into a large black Town Car that was parked near the dumpsters.

From this point everything happened so fast!. A short husky guy, whom I immediately recognized as "Fat Eddie", (everyone in town knew "Fat Eddie") was standing on the other side of the car, and holding another man at gunpoint. Almost immediately, Eddie fired at least three shots into the guy. I stood in stunned silence, in shock by what I had just saw. I heard a voice shout "Hey!" and looked over to see one of Fat Eddie’s goons, a large, hairless guy everyone called "Slick", standing at the open driver’s door of the car and pointing at me.

Needless to say, I knew that I didn’t need to be anywhere around there and wasted no time making myself scarce. Slick began to chase me down the alley, but I was able to outdistance him on my skateboard. I could hear "Fat Eddie" cursing at Slick and telling him to get in the car. When Slick climbed behind the wheel and gunned the engine, I thought the game was up for me, but to my relief, I saw that Eddie’s car was pointed the wrong way and the alley was too narrow for them to turn around in. They would have to circle the block, which they wasted no time doing. Luckily, I knew these alleys like the back of my hand, as I had played here all the time when I was a little kid and my folks still lived in this part of town. I was quickly able to ditch my pursuers and make a run for home.

As I approached the house, I was horrified to see at least two police cars and one unmarked vehicle with government plates parked in front. "Oh Lord!" I thought as my concerns now were for my mother and sister. Frantically, I ran inside and was confronted by a tall black man wearing a grey suit. "Mom! Sis!" I screamed as I tried to push the man out of my way.

"Hold on Kid!", said the man as he grabbed and held onto my arm. "Are you "Anthony Zanzetti?"

"Yes!", I cried "What’s happened to my Mother and Sister?!"

"They are fine, we have taken them to a place where they will be safe. Let me introduce my self, I am Special Investigator Louis Harris. I work for a U.S. Government team who is looking into the illegal activities of one Edward Spotto, otherwise known as "Fat Eddie". We have been trying to pin a Murder rap on Eddie for years, and take him out of circulation permanently. Until now there never were any witnesses to any of his killings."

I realized what Harris was getting at. "Hey, no way am I gonna be a witness against Fat Eddie. He or his goons would kill me!"

"They will kill you anyway, Kid! Eddie didn’t stay out of jail as long as he has without taking care of any ‘loose ends’ that could cause him problems later."

"So what am I gonna do?" I asked.

"Testify at Eddie’s murder trial. In his panic to catch you, he has left a lot of evidence at the scene and had screwed up big time. With your testimony and our evidence, we would have an airtight case against the guy."

"Can’t you put me in some kind of witness protection program?, you know, move me far away, change my name. . ."

"Yes, we can do that. Your mother and sister are in our custody as we speak and are going to be put in such a program."

"But why not me?"

"Listen kid, as long as Fat Eddie is loose, your life, and that of your mother and sister remains in danger. You will have to run and hide all of your lives. If you help us stop Eddie NOW and send him to the gas chamber, you will never have to worry about him again." Harris paused and then leaned over to me. "How would you like to put away the guy that shot your father?"

"What?" I asked.

"We have it on good authority that Fat Eddie, when he was working for "Big Jay Cooley", was the guy who shot your father. Of course, the police could never prove it. Eddie was careful even then. But this was before Big Jay’s "accident", before Eddie took over the operation."

That revelation made me begin to get angry. It was all Harris needed to finally convince me that testifying against Fat Eddie would be the thing to do. Not only would I be safe from him in the future, I could extract my revenge against the bastard who shot my dad.

"OK, I’ll do it" I told Harris. "Now can I see my mother and sister?"

"Its not going to be that easy, kid," Harris replied. "Your mother and sister are being sent far away so that Eddie cannot use them to threaten you before the trial. You, on the other hand, have to be kept near by, so that we can get you in to testify, or make a statement on short notice."

"We are going to hide you from Eddie and his informants. Only my partner and myself will know where you are. Eddie will use his lawyers to delay things as long as he can. It could be months, or even a couple of years, before you can testify and get this mess over with."

"As long as that?", I thought, but it would still be worth it. "But what if Eddie finds me anyway? They say he has informants everywhere, even on the police force."

"Well, quite frankly kid, then you will be dead!. Said Harris, matter of factly. " That’s why we have to get you away from here NOW. My partner has rented a suite for you and her at the Taylor Hotel."

"Her?"

"Yes, agent Julie Parker will be your "guardian" during this operation. You ARE still a minor child you know. She will help you get situated in the final hiding place and deal with the name changes and whatever else needs to be done."

Harris, did not let me take anything from the house, not even photographs of my parents or sister. He said that such things could be used against me, should I have them in my possession. I didn’t know quite what he meant, so I co-operated anyway. He didn’t even let me bring along a change of clothing.

Harris looked around outside before he would let me leave the house. "Stay low, and run to the car!" he ordered. " and lie down on the seat!"

"What’s the deal?" I asked.

"The possibility of Snipers!" He replied. I looked at him sort of skeptically, as if to say " isn’t this is a bit over the top." "Seriously" continued Harris.

I Followed Harris’ instructions and Harris drove us away, back in the direction of town. Nobody shot at us.

We pulled to the back service entrance of the Hotel and went inside. There didn’t seem to be anyone around who had seen us. Harris walked ahead, looking around corners, Making sure the way was clear, before signaling me follow him. We took the steps, rather than the elevator and climbed up seven floors. After he was sure that the hall was clear, he led me to a room on the eighth floor. And knocked. The door opened and I was pushed inside.

An attractive blonde woman, in her early thirties, met us in the hotel suite.

"This is Miss Julie Parker, one of our operatives", Investigator Harris said as he introduced us. "She often acts as a temporary guardian in these juvenile matters."

I introduced myself to the smartly dressed, pleasant faced woman. She took my hand, smiled and said "Let us have a look at you".

She scanned my body from my shoes up with her eyes. She then grasped my chin, turned my face one way and then the other, closely examining every contour.

Harris was growing as impatient as I was. "Well, can you do it?", he asked her.

Julie, still looking at my face, smiled thoughtfully "Yes, I believe I can", she replied. "He might look a bit older, but that is even better."

"Great!", Said Harris, as he left the room. "I will pick you up at nine ‘O clock tomorrow morning".

"What is this about Miss Parker?", I asked.

"Call me Julie", she replied. "We have something to discuss."

She sat me down and began to explain. "Fat Eddie has his spies and informants everywhere. Harris suspects that you are being followed." "He likely knows that you are in this building and is having it watched, waiting for you to come out again."

"So am I going to have to stay here?" I asked.

"No", replied Julie, "but we will have to loose anyone who may be following us, and throw them off the trail." "When we do that, we can move to the apartment the agency has set up for us and live there until we are needed for the trial."

"Sounds like a good plan to me" I remarked.

"But there is one catch, kid. You are going to have to wear a disguise at all times. No one can know who you are. Both our lives could be in danger".

"Disguise? What sort of Disguise?" I asked, with some trepidation.

"Fat Eddie is looking for a teenage boy, you are going to become a young woman."

"What?!", I said with a nervous smile, not quite believing what I heard. "You aren’t serious?" I laughed. "This is some kind of joke!" . . . "isn’t it?"

The serious look on Julie’s face told me that she was not joking. "Wa . . .Wait a minute!" There’s no way I could . . ."

"You said that you would do anything to put away Fat Eddie once in for all, didn’t you?" Julie shot back. "Don’t you want to avenge your father?"

"Yes!" I replied, "but look at me!" "There is no way I could pass for a girl. These eyebrows! This big nose! All this body hair! I would look like a Neanderthal in drag!" Unless you were gonna do plastic surgery on me! Oh no!, No Surgery! Not . . ."

"Relax kid. We don’t need to resort to surgery" She interrupted. "You are the right height and build. The eyebrows can be easily plucked to the correct configuration and your nose is not too big. A bit large for a boy’s face, but that’s good, it will make you look older, more adult. And this stuff", she presented me with a plastic bottle, " will get rid of any hair that would otherwise deter from your appearance."

"I have done this before," she continued. "I know you will make a lovely woman. You will be surprised.

"Uh . . . When do we have to start?" I nervously inquired.

"Immediately!" she answered. "Nothing drastic yet, we will do that tomorrow, but we can get started on the heavy stuff right now."

Julie led me to the shower and ordered me to strip down to my briefs. She then smeared the contents of the bottle all over my body, even on my face. WOW! That stuff had a terrible smell.

"Take off those shorts and do it there too", she ordered.

Reluctantly, after she left the room, I complied. I had to stand naked with the burning, smelly goop all over me for a half hour, until Julie told me it would be OK to shower it off. Water never felt so good.

To my utter amazement, not only did the stuff rinse off, my body hair washed off with it. I looked at my arm. It was white and hairless as a baby’s. The stark white appearance of my now smooth hairless legs, was absolutely shocking. Devoid of their rough coat of black hair, they looked like shapely women’s legs! The hair in my pits was gone! My water shriveled penis, having no pubic hair around it, looked like that of a ten year old little boy.

My body hair, my one "manly" feature, that I could take some pride in, was gone! Stepping out of the shower, I noticed in the steamy mirror on the wall, that my face was somewhat lighter and smoother too. The fuzz, that I hoped would soon turn into real whiskers, was also now history.

I still had my eyebrows, however, and that was some consolidation as I still looked like myself. It felt a bit "creepy" however, drying my smooth and soft body limbs with the towel. It didn’t take much imagination at all to see how "female" some of my parts looked.

My boys’ briefs were gone. In their place was a pair of nylon, low cut, womens’ panties. Fortunately, they were quite plain looking, not frilly and lacy. Except for the name tag, they could have been Mens’ "Speedos", so I didn’t feel so bad putting them on. With a strange woman around I felt a greater need to conceal my nakedness.

Needless to say, the panties did little to reduce the womanly look of my legs, but any sexual arousals that I experienced were more than compensated for by the pure FEAR that coursed through me. Rather than get hard, my penis seemed to want to withdraw into my body.

While still in the throes of my conflicting emotions, Julie appeared and handed me a bottle of shampoo and some conditioner and had me wash my hair in the sink. My hair seemed to fluff out and almost resemble an afro after she finished blow drying it. I tried to comb it back into its usual "pompadour" style, but it seemed a bit too thick. I did manage to smooth it out some though so that it did not stick up as much.

Julie told me to get to bed, as tomorrow was going to be a busy day. I could imagine!. She asked me if I wanted to start sleeping in a nightie. She had one for me if I wanted to wear it. I graciously turned down the offer. It seemed all right with her. I slept in the panties only as I was used to sleeping in my underwear. My smooth skin now started to arouse me. In the darkness, I could feel my arm or my leg and it felt like I was touching parts of a woman’s body.

Julie woke me up precisely at seven A. M. Imagine my relief, when she tossed me my own jeans and told me to put them on. At least I would not be wearing a dress. Not yet anyway. I got up and wasted no time reacquiring a degree of maleness.

She was dressed in a long black coat and wearing dark sunglasses, and now looked like a stereotype of the special agent that she was. She threw me a mans’ long, tan trench coat and told me to put it on over my otherwise bare upper body. I did so, but curiosity got the best of me.

"I thought you wanted to disguise me as a girl?" I asked, as she placed a wide brimmed, dark brown fedora on my head.

"We have to loose any tails we have first" she replied. "We can’t be tipping our hands to our adversaries and be giving the game away before we even get started, now can we?"

She handed me some large dark sunglasses to wear. I looked in the mirror and laughed. In the outfit and with my longish pointed nose, I looked like one of the "Spy Vs Spy" guys in the "Mad" comics.

"Who are we gonna fool with these outfits?" I asked with a snicker.

Julie explained that as Fat Eddie’s men were probably watching the building exits for me to leave, I would be unrecognizable it this outfit. Sure, I might attract some attention. That was the point. I LOOKED like I was wearing a disguise, but they couldn’t be sure it was me. I also looked like the "perfect diversion". They would have to send someone to follow our car anyway though, just to cover all their bases, and that’s when we would finally loose them.

We left our suite as soon as Julie was sure that there was no one in the hallway. We took an empty elevator to the ground floor, walked through the lobby and climbed into the back of a limousine, waiting at the entrance.

"Ready?" said Julie to the driver.

"Right on time. Everything is set up" he replied. The driver was Agent Harris.

As we pulled away from the hotel, Julie watched out the back window and began to talk to someone on the other end of her cell phone. She reported our progress and informed the listeners of the landmarks we were passing.

Suddenly, she saw something in the rear window and turned to Harris.

"We’ve got company" she said with a calm and professional tone to her voice.

"I see them", Harris replied.

When I asked what was going on, Julie explained that a car was following us about a block back. I couldn’t see anything unusual in the traffic and said as much, but she explained that a good "tail" knows better than to ride on the bumper of the car that he is following. "Professionals", like Julie and Harris were, however, quite good at being able to tell when they were being followed. They also knew how to loose them.

Julie continued to talk to her contact over the telephone and informed them of the current developments.

"Get him ready", interrupted Harris.

"OK" said Julie as she spoke to me. "Hold on tight and be ready to bail out when I tell you to."

"What?, I asked, Having little idea what she was talking about, and sounding like a very dangerous move indeed.

"You and me are going to jump out of the car as soon as Harris gets us to our next destination. Our tail will be out of our line of sight for a few seconds and give us the chance we need. As soon as I say GO!, get out and run directly to the open door you will see to our right. I will be right behind you!" "don’t waste any time! We will have only about 5 seconds to make our move."

Julie had no sooner finished speaking when Harris made a quick turn, across traffic, into a narrow alley on the left. We ran up the roadway a short distance and quickly turned left again. We were now on another alley that ran behind the buildings that were facing the street.

About half a block down, Harris, brought the car to a screeching stop.

"Go!" shouted Julie and nearly ran over me even as I quickly climbed out of the car. She slammed the door behind her, and Harris roared off. Julie reached the open door of the building before I did, and I was on her heels. I glanced back down the alley from where we had come, and I saw the front of another black automobile emerge from just around the bend. Julie snatched me inside and slammed the door just before the windshield of the vehicle became visible. Hopefully, they had not seen us.

We heard the car roar down the alley and pass the closed door we were hiding behind, still in hot pursuit of Harris. Yes! We had done it.

Julie seemed satisfied. "Harris will lead them out of the city and on a merry chase down the country roads north of town before he looses them for good. We will be safe for the time being. Fat Eddie will have no idea where to start looking for you now."

I now directed my attention to my surroundings. We were in a short hallway with a door to either side of us. I could see that the hall opened up into a large open room, where the front of the building should be. Shades on the windows were closed and the whole place reeked of a sharp, bitter smell, like a chemical plant.

An attractive, but overly made up 40-ish woman, that Julie addressed as "Jenna" led us to the front room. There were chairs, hair dryers, shelves of fancy bottles lining the walls and several large mirrors. This place was a beauty parlor! A sinking feeling came over me now. This was where my transformation would take place.

"Jenna" introduced me to two other women present. Loraine, an tall, blonde, in her thirties and Margaret, an older brunette woman about 50 years of age.

"Don’t worry", said Julie, "the ladies here know how to keep a secret. We have used them several times before."

"Outside of us and Harris, they will be the only people on Earth who will know of your former identity.

The ladies wasted no time with me. The lead me inside the back room to the right. It was a small break room of sorts with a half bathroom to the side. Its only furnishings were a table, upon which rested a coffee maker and a suitcase, a mirror on the wall and a couple of cheap kitchen chairs.

From the ceiling, suspended from a single metal hook, hung something that looked like a trapeze bar. I didn’t know what that was, but I would soon find out.

Julie removed my coat, glasses and hat and placed them on the table. She then instructed me to remove my jeans, something I was reluctant to do in front of the ladies, but when she reached over to unbutton them herself, I relented and took them off.

I could feel my face and upper body turn red as I stood there in front of four women wearing only a pair of womens’ panties. The ladies didn’t seem phased, however. They poked, prodded and looked me over like I was a prize hog at a country fair. "I see that you have already removed his body hair", remarked Margaret to Julie. "Good, that will save us lots of time".

I stood still and listened with trepidation as the ladies discussed their plans for me. "Hair!," said Jenna, "Lots of long, black hair". "It will look better with his coloration". The others agreed. "It’s quite thick, it will take quite a lot of extensions" remarked Irene.

"We can do a lot with those big brown eyes". Said Julie. "And look at those beautiful long lashes," Jenna replied. "The bushy eyebrows have to go, however."

As they continued to plot my un-manning, I closed my eyes and stopped listening to the details. There was no way out other than this. I knew it. If Fat Eddie or any of his associates recognized me, I was dead meat. I had to trust Julie and Harris and endure, what for a boy, struggling to establish his masculinity, was the ultimate humiliation. Yes, Fat Eddie was going to PAY for doing this to me. I would live to testify against him. Of that I was sure. This ordeal would serve to only strengthen my resolve.

When the ladies finished talking, Jenna and Loraine left the room to make other preparations, while Margaret and Julie remained with me. Julie opened the suitcase that was on the table, and removed a black, lacy object with

Some oval shaped pads sewn into it. She called it a "padded panty brief" and it was to make my hips and butt look bigger and rounder. It fit fairly tight. It took a bit of effort on my part to slip it on, but it did do what she said it would. I now had curvy hips.

Julie reached into the suitcase again and pulled out another, larger black garment with straps and lacing on it. I recognized it as a corset. It had no bra cups, only a couple of under wired crescents along the top to make room for the breasts. Its exaggerated hourglass shape frightened me, suggesting that my own midsection would soon conform to that feminine shape, should they manage to get the garment on me.

"No way will you get me in THAT", I commented.

"Listen, Tony, We don’t have time to argue about it. You will do everything we tell you to" an angry looking Julie spat back. "You want to live don’t you?"

Julie misunderstood me. "I mean its not physically possible to squeeze me into such a shape" I replied.

Julie saw my point and smiled. "Hey its not that bad, it’s new, the laces are still drawn up". She opened the corset and loosened the laces considerably. "You will still have a thin waist though." She wrapped the corset around my waist and hooked it into place.

Julie pointed to the trapeze bar hanging from the ceiling and told me to grab on and hang from it. I did as she requested and noticed how my entire upper body and chest seemed to stretch as my arms bore my weight. I noticed how my waist was thinner too, from the stretching. Hey, there is a trick to everything.

Margaret and Julie tightened the laces. "Exhale and suck in your gut" Julie demanded. "Exhale! Empty your lungs!" she snapped again as I instinctively, at first, inhaled. The laces were pulled even tighter as I held my breath and prayed for them to finish. I felt like I was being cut in half.

Just before I passed out from lack of oxygen, I heard Julie say, "Ok, that’s got it!". I gulped as big a breath of air as my diminished lung capacity would allow me. I put my feet on the floor and received a shocking surprise as I eased my weight from the bar. I HAD BOOBS! All of the fat muscle and skin that I had stretched while hanging from the trapeze settled back, to its normal position, or least had tried to. It now all seemed to hang over the top of the corset, resting across the crescents, below which it could move no farther.

Both Margaret and Julie laughed at my discovery. If I were not too embarrassed to do so, I could have easily held one in each hand! Hanging free like that, they seemed more sensitive. I could feel them jiggle and seem to respond to gravity when I changed positions. "At least a good ‘A’ Cup" commented Margaret. "Maybe somewhat bigger".

Julie took a black, low cut bra out of the suitcase. She told me that it was a C cup, which would be my size. She put it on me, fastened the snaps in the back and put some flesh colored, jelly filled forms under my breasts, in the bottom of the bra cups. I now looked like I was filling the bra entirely on my own. Not only that, as the pads pushed up they graced me with few inches of REAL cleavage.

I walked over to the full-length mirror on the wall. Wow! I had a knockout woman’s figure. The corset, according to Margaret’s measurements, had reduced my waist to nearly twenty-two inches. It looked even smaller than that. My hips, below the waist, seemed to curve out on either side like a bell, but not excessively so, perfectly balancing my breasts.

Julie slipped a dark brown, lightweight sweater, with three-quarter length sleeves and a low cut round neck, over my head. The fabric encased my upper arms like tights and made them look almost skinny. Just like a girl!. The low neckline exposed my cleavage to the optimum effect. Quite enough to show any onlooker that I definitely had breasts, but without making me look like a hooker. The fabric clearly outlined the spheres of breasts beneath and clung to my tapering midsection, reaching to just below the waist.

I was next directed to sit on one of the chairs, while Margaret slipped a pair of dark brown sheer panty hose up my legs. They felt incredibly smooth. I almost enjoyed the experience. She slipped a tan skirt on me next and ordered me to stand while she pulled up the side zipper. The skirt fit me tight around the butt and hips, following the curves up to my waist. It hung down a bit looser below the hips and fell to about four inches above my knees.

Julie now had me put on a pair of black sandals consisting of little more than soles, spiky three inch heels and a few straps. She then buckled the ankle straps. If I thought that I had "woman legs" before, I most definitely had them now.

I stood still, afraid to move, fearing that I might topple over if I even tried to take a step. I could still see my reflection in the mirror though. The effect was jarring. It looked like someone had stuck a geeky boy’s head on a woman’s body.

Sensing my precarious grip on verticality, Julie spoke up. "Put your weight on the BALLS of your feet!".

"Balls?" I thought for a second. "Yes, My toes!" I found that if I put my weight on the front of my feet as when "walking tiptoe", could balance. I even tried taking a step or two. It worked! I had to figure it out as I went along. Use the heels only to rest on. I observed that I couldn’t take as long a stride as I wanted to, but at least I was mobile.

I imitated Julie’s step and rhythm as I followed her and Margaret down the hall and out into the parlor area. I heard the distinctive feminine click, click, click of my own shoes as I walked. It gave me "the creeps".

Margaret directed me to sit in one of the stylist’s chairs. I noticed that an apron covered the large mirror on the wall by the seat, so that I could not see what was going on. I could see that Loraine had stationed herself behind me, and was in possession of a couple of bags of what looked like black hair. Several long locks of the wavy black stuff were hanging from a small rack near by, within her easy reach. The locks varied from a foot to half again as long in length, and consisted of just a few hairs, to strands as thick as a finger.

Loraine told me that there were hair extensions. They would be both woven into and glued to my own hair and become part of it. I wouldn’t have to wear a wig. The hair would be just like my own, only longer. It could be brushed, combed and styled just like any other woman’s long hair. The effect would be totally realistic.

Because my own hair was so thick, I would need a lot of the extensions. Near the outer edges of the sides of my head and close to the forehead, much smaller locks, and even individual hairs would be glued on. The process would take several hours. So I was told to "lay back and get comfortable". While this was going on Jenna would be plucking my eyebrows and Margaret would work on my nails.

My eyebrows were quite thick and Jenna was painfully pulled out each hair, one by one. She took her time about it too. Considering how long it was going to take Loraine to install my hair, she had plenty of time. I paid little attention to Margaret as she extended, manicured and painted my nails. The eyebrow procedure was hurting too much. Finally, Jenna finished. The look on her and Julie’s faces told me that they liked what they saw.

Jenna held up a small hand mirror in front of my face for a couple of seconds. I was startled. Only two small finely shaped arches remained where my nearly single bushy brow had once been. Without my eyebrows I looked like an entirely different person. "I look like a Ghost!" I involuntarily commented, before the mirror was snatched away.

The ladies laughed. Don’t worry, you will look a lot better after we finish with your makeup. "Makeup?" I groaned to myself. Yes, I knew that was coming too. It was part of the package.

About 30 minutes later, Lorraine was still working on my hair. From the poking and pulling, I could tell that she was up to about the middle of the back of my head. Already, what seemed like "tons" of dark curls seemed to flow from the sides of my head and tickle my shoulders. This was going to be both heavy and HOT.

Soon Margaret announced that she had finished with my nails. My GOD! I had been looking at my left hand and didn’t realize it was my own. I thought it was Jenna’s or Margaret’s resting on my lap. I hadn’t said anything about it and pretended not to notice. Both of my hands now sported long red fingernails, and looked exactly like-- women’s hands! Women’s hands attached to the feminine, graceful, bare forearms that emerged from the sleeves of the sweater! I was now done for! Soon no trace of Tony would remain! Every part of me that I could see now looked like a woman.

When Loraine, finally finished installing the extensions, I was allowed to sit up. I never realized that hair could be so heavy. It dropped across my shoulders, into my face and even tickled the skin on my back between my shoulder blades. I felt like I was in a haystack. Loraine quickly brushed it back a bit and moved me over to a sink where she could wash and condition my new crowning glory. She then rolled it up in about a half of ton of curlers and sat me under the dryer.

Jenna then wheeled in a cart stacked with all kinds of bottles and tubes of makeup. By now, I didn’t care any more. I resigned myself to my fate. The ladies Conferred and consulted with each other about every item they used on me. They chose a light foundation and applied it to my face, neck and even my boobs. They powdered me, let that set, and began to enhance my meager eyebrows with carefully applied strokes of a dark brown pencil. They applied brown , gray and purple looking eye shadow, and outlined my eyes with liberal amounts of black eyeliner. Finally, they applied a black mascara, and oohed! And ahhed as they made my eyelashes longer and longer. I could almost HEAR my eyelashes flapping, every time I blinked my eyes. I felt like I was looking from beneath two awnings.

When my hair was dry, Loraine removed the rollers and combed my hair down my back. She then gathered it up an one big mass and formed a kind of ponytail on the crown of my head, which she secured with a large gold clip. The hair still hang down past my shoulders and down the back and sides of my head, in large brown, almost black curls, but it was held away from my forehead face and ears. I could still feel it, but save for a couple of tendrils she let fall on either side of my temples, I could not see it.

"She’s Beautiful!" remarked Margret.

"Yes, she looks sort of like that "Star Trek" girl commented Loriane".

Julie looked at me and commented to Loraine "didn’t I tell you that his nose would be no problem? He looks five, maybe ten years older."

Needless to say, I did not appreciate their comments. I only wanted to get this slow torture and assault on my ego over with.

Jenna was not quite finished. She outlined my mouth with a dark red pencil and slowly, carefully brushed a deep red color onto my lips. My spirit sank. I was now entirely encased within the form of a girl.

They had me next, stand up, with my back to the wall. Margaret removed the apron from the mirror and told me to turn around.

I looked into the mirror on the wall. The women had gathered closely me around to see my reaction.

For a few seconds I felt very confused. It felt like I was a ghost or Count Dracula. I saw everyone else standing around me, in what I KNEW was a mirror, but I couldn’t see myself. Of course I was aware that I looked different now, but I didn’t see anything or anyone in the mirror that could have been me.

I knew that Julie was standing to my right and Loraine on my left. I recognized Julie in the mirror, and there was Loraine! That woman between them had to be ME!

Whoa!, No WAY! Was my first reaction, as the shock of realization rolled across my psyche. I slowly raised my hand to about chest level and waved it side to side. The girl in the mirror imitated the action.

Another wave of shock wave rushed through me. I leaned closer to the mirror. A couple of the women standing around, I don’t know who, giggled.

The wide eyed beauty in the mirror carefully touched the side of her face with her hand.

"Ohhh WOWWW"! I involuntarily exclaimed.

I never knew that so many different and conflicting emotions could be felt at the same time by any one person. For a moment I was frozen in place. I was awestruck that I could look like that. Inches from my face was one of the most beautiful women that I had ever seen or could imagine. Much of her long dark hair was gathered into a kind of pony tail of long curly locks on the top of her head. The curls cascaded down either side of her head, onto her shoulders and down her back.

The large dark eyes, now further enhanced by the makeup, seemed to dominate her pale, heart shaped face.

Her deep red lips , while not especially full, were shapely and sensuous.

Surprisingly, her/my somewhat large Romanesque nose did not detract at all from her appearance. Indeed, it modified a face, which was comprised primarily of "cute" elements, into a visage of sophisticated beauty.

I caught myself beginning to smile from pure appreciation of the sight of beauty. I liked what I saw. As the lips of the girl in the mirror began to curl upward, she appeared even more beautiful.

The knowledge that I was looking at myself both pleased and horrified me at the same time. I felt myself becoming sexually aroused, but fortunately, the layers of Lycra encasing the lower portion of my body effectively prevented it from showing and spared me any further embarrassment for the time being.

"I sort of DO look like her" I said to no one in particular as I realized that The woman in the mirror did indeed strongly resemble "the Star Trek Girl", or more exactly, the "Counselor Troi" character on that TV show. Actually, though, I thought I looked a bit better.

Waves of pleasure and horror, awe and embarrassment and other unidentified emotions continued to wash over me. I began to hyperventilate. I couldn’t take it any more. I turned away from the mirror.

"You like it?" asked Julie with a smile.

"Whoa !" was all I could say at the moment.

" Of course you need a new name to go with your new body," said Julie. "We can’t use Toni, with an I. It’s too close to your own name. Then she smiled, "How about Deanna, as in Deanna Troi?"

"Don’t you dare!" I shot back. The last thing I wanted was a reminder of what I looked like, or to invite unwelcome comments from others who would note a coincidence between my name and appearance.

"OK then, we will compromise," remarked Julie, "We will call you ‘Dianne’ instead."

I didn’t like that name either, but it was preferable to her first choice. I told her "Ok," I conceded. "Dianne it is."

"OK, Dianne, listen up!" said Julie." We are going to walk to the street corner and catch a Taxi ride to our new apartment. Now I don’t care how much you LOOK like a woman, If you don’t walk, sit move or speak like a woman people might be able to see right through your disguise.—At the very least they will think that something is wrong with you."

Julie’s comments shook my confidence. She had a point. I thought my disguise was "iron clad", now I began to worry about being seen in public.

"Don’t worry, kid" Julie continued, "We are only going to walk out to the cab. Just get the walk down, sit with your knees together and don’t talk and we will be all right."

Julie had me practice walking back and forth across the length of the shop. Occasionally she would remind me to "stick my boobs out more!", "stand straighter!", "take smaller steps!" and the like. She also demonstrated, with a chair, the proper procedure for getting into an automobile and showed me how to hold my arms and carry a purse.

After a crash course in feminine deportment, lasting about an hour, Julie deemed me ready to "hit the streets"

I was more comfortable than I thought I would be as I followed Julie out of the parlor door and onto the public sidewalk. I knew how good I looked and that there was no possibility of anyone recognizing me or even suspecting that I wasn’t any less woman than Julie herself. The costume seemed like an impenetrable armor. So long as I concentrated on my walk and posture and kept my mouth shut everything would be all right. I should attract no more attention than Julie herself or any of the other many women in the street.

As we drew near the place where the Taxi would pick us up, two strange young men approached us. One wore a dark wig with a head appliance and makeup that made him appear to be a "Clingon" from the "Star Trek" TV show. The other guy was a buck toothed "nerd", who wore no special makeup but was dressed in an "officers uniform" from the same series.

"Miss Sirtis! Miss Sirtis!" they cried and thrust a couple of photographs and a pen in my hand before I could react. Panic time! What was I going to do? Julie seemed as confused as I was.

I looked at the photos and saw that they were pictures of Marina Sirtis the Actress who portrays "Counselor Troi" character. These guys were "Trekies"! And wanted me to autograph the images!

"But I’m not. . ." I started to say before I remembered not to speak. I contemplated what to do. Should I sign the photos and hope that the guys would go away? Would that be ethical? I had to do something. The Trekies seemed in awe of me. They looked at me with pleading eyes.

OK! I decided. I autographed the photos with "Marina Sirtis" and hoped that I spelled it correctly. I also hoped that they were not familiar with the genuine item as I had no Idea what Ms. Sirtis’ handwriting looked like. I handed the pen and photos back to the very pleased looking young men, who took them and rapidly ran back in the direction from which they had come, waving their prizes in the air.

Julie giggled at my performance. I was relieved that I got myself out of THAT jam. But after thinking about it for a few seconds, I began to get angry.

"Damnit! Julie!" I shouted. "What kind of sick joke is this?" "You did this to me on purpose! You knew that there was a Science Fiction convention in town!" Fortunately, there was no one near by to hear my tirade against her.

Julie looked both puzzled and hurt.

"I swear Dianne," she said as she raised her right hand as I the taking of an oath. "I didn’t know anything about this." She looked sincere enough.

"None of this was deliberate. We chose the hair and makeup details bit by to help camouflage the features of your face. We had no idea that you would end up looking like anybody famous." "Gosh!, the last thing we wanted to do was to draw undue attention to you." "You have to believe me!"

Her argument made sense and I did tend to believe her, but we then saw something a half block away that concerned us both. The two trekies were engaged in animated conversation with a larger group of similarly attired individuals. Occasionally they would point in our direction. We were going to have company! And soon!

"Run" Julie said to me, as she trotted towards the corner of a nearby building. In my case, that was easier said than done. I could barely WALK in these high-heeled shoes, much less RUN.

"On your TOES!" Julie shouted. I got the idea. I was surprised how fast I could move so long as I made sure to keep my heels off the ground.

The crowd of trekies was moving in our direction. We managed to get around the corner and duck inside the open door of a flower shop. I managed to hide behind a pillar, just inside the doorway as the excited trekies ran by. A couple of them looked inside, but didn’t see us. They continued down the street.

The Lady behind the counter looked puzzled.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

Julie stepped in to speak for me. "Sorry, we just were trying to get away from those kids, they were bothering us."

"That’s odd," The lady commented. "Even if they are a little strange, the Science Fiction fans are usually so well mannered." She then looked at me funny. "Do I know you?" she asked.

"NO!" I quickly snapped back, and looked away from her.

Julie took out her cell phone and called another Taxi. It stopped directly in front of the flower shop.

"Why didn’t we do this at the beauty parlor?." I whispered. "It sure would have saved us a lot of trouble?"

"We didn’t want to risk having the parlor connected with us in any way." Julie replied. "You never know who might be listening to the Taxi dispatchers."

Yes, Julie and Harris WERE careful. They left nothing to chance.

Julie climbed into the cab first, so that I could be reminded of how a lady gets into a car. I imitated her movements, but none too soon. The "Clingon" had spotted us! He rushed over with more photographs for me to sign. I slammed the door almost right in his face. Julie told the cabby to get us out of there, quick!.

When I looked back, the sad looking Treckie was still standing on the corner watching our Taxi disappear into the distance. I sort of felt guilty. I sure hope that I didn’t disillusion him about Miss Sirtis.

Julie told the cabby where she wanted him to take us. It was an apartment complex near the airport. It would be my home for the foreseeable future, But for now it would be my escape from my "adoring public". Hopefully, Julie could make a few changes more in my appearance that would solve my current problem.

 

END OF PART ONE.

 

 

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© 2001 by Marina Twelve. 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.