Fantasy In Satin

I woke up slowly, surrounded by a pleasant perfume, my head lying on something satiny soft. Sleepily, I opened my eyes. My beautiful wife was gazing down at me, smiling tenderly. The lace from her peignoir sleeve trailed across my face as she pushed some of my hair that had fallen over my brow back from my face.

By Bea

Page [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 ]

Worse was to follow. As Rose then started working on Emily's hair, Frances decided to give me a manicure. Helpless with the drier hood fastened around my hair, I could only stare in fascination as my fingernails were transformed into a bright scarlet color.

What could I do? The girls were having a marvelous time, orchestrated by Rose. If I argued or desisted in any way, it was like throwing a wet blanket on everyone else's fun. In addition, I was well aware that since wakening from my 'nap' I had crossed some sort of nebulous border between 'masculine' and 'feminine' and now resided in a kind of state where I was the only one with any memory of me ever being considered masculine - and even that was fading as I looked in the mirror and saw the feminine creature in the chiffon robe, arching eyebrows, scarlet fingernails.

Things, believe it or not, got worse. I was finally released from the drier, only to discover that I was now in the position of Rose's assistant working to beautify Emily and Frances. First of all I had to shampoo Frances' hair then, under Rose's eagle eye, had to roll her hair up in large pink rollers, pinning them in place.

I couldn't help it. I became a part of the whole scene - a group of women prettifying each other. What choice had I? To claim any kind of manliness at that stage was patently ridiculous and, truthfully, it wasn't too difficult for me to merge into the picture as I wafted from one task to the other, finding it easier and easier to chatter and gossip by the minute.

Then I heard the maid's bell chime. The only thing was that the summons was for me. Ellen had explained that Rose took offense at this time- honored way of calling a maid and, as she had a lot of the little hand bells, it was an awful waste not to use them for something? Accordingly, they had become the signal that I was wanted by my spouse.

Horror struck I heard Emily say to Rose. "Is that Ellen calling you?" And Rose replying "oh no. That's for miss Henry." Frances laughed - well, emitted a shrill giggle. "You keep calling him 'miss' Henry?" Rose shrugged her pretty shoulders. "I know. But it's a natural mistake, don't you think?" Then she grinned at me. "Mistress wants you. Better get going, eh?" "I can't go like this!" I protested. "Don't see why not." Rose replied. "And I'd hurry if I were you. Mistress doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Page [ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 ]

[ Back to Transgender Fiction ]

0.2006919384