Agnes Dourville Ch. 06

When we arrive home - her home that is - it's after dark and she leads me to my bedroom. The girl doll is back in its usual position, looking at me through its big eyelashes, and my white cotton nightgown is waiting for me on the bed. Agnes gently helps remove all my damp clothing (even my lace-edged panties) and towels me dry. I'm unable to avoid an erection, which she mysteriously doesn't pay any attention to (and which in fact she also towels dry). She then helps me on with the nightgown, with my penis making a dent, and helps me into bed. I'm probably asleep within 30 seconds.

I wake to a brilliant sun outside, and lazily note it's already 8 a.m., Sunday. I remain in bed, trying to figure out if yesterday was a dream. Was it to be an escape, but an escape from what? I take stock of myself. It's as though I'm shedding the skin of the rebellious Michael who was fighting Agnes at every turn. It was amazing what happened when I embraced her and at the same time drew out her softer side. We met halfway. Maybe I'm entering some new place, a softer, warmer, more accepting place? Who is the real Michael? On the other hand, could I be rationalizing my dropping out of the fight?

I smell Agnes making breakfast downstairs, and a little sheepishly make my way there, still comfortable in my nightgown. It seems completely natural to wear it. She too is wearing a nightgown, but hers is of some shiny material.

She's making scrambled eggs with garlic and scallions, and I love the smell.

"Good morning, Michelle," she says, and oddly enough, the name fits. Very strange, very strange. I feel a warm glow in me, and at this moment I find myself liking her.

"Good morning," I say. "I didn't properly thank you for picking me up yesterday. I guess I went off the deep end. I thought I was off to start a new ... "

"Now, now," says Agnes. "I really do understand what you were going through. No need to apologize." She puts down her spatula and gives me a big hug, and I love feeling her big tits against me again, and her big thighs as well. And I love the faint smell of her perfume. "Do you mind if I call you MIchelle? You're still my project, you know. I'm so glad to see in your nightgown, dear. You look so nice in it."

"Yes, I can be your Michelle."

"I'm so happy for the both of us. It's all very lovely. We can make some plans for you over breakfast, can't we?"

In my new state, we talk about how we'll create my female twin, starting with appearances. We go over which of Clarice's things we can use, and what things we'll buy, including a wig. With a list and notes about my sizes, we head into nearby Madison, the state capitol, on a little buying spree on a Sunday afternoon. It's intoxicating, prowling the totally alien land of women's departments, and yet I don't want to be seen as buying things for myself! Fortunately, Agnes respects my privacy.

We scoop up dresses, lingerie, shoes, slips and makeup. We visit a store with wigs and I pick out a blonde pageboy style with shoulder-length hair. We also find some breast forms, some demure nylons and so on. I resist having my ears pierced while buying some tasteful jewelry, but finally give in. Finally we visit a Frederick's of Hollywood to find my padded girdle. I'm giddy and exhausted, and we head for home. Now, home feels like it belongs to both Agnes and me.

The next day's a national holiday, so we have Monday to try some of these things on. I feel both apprehensive and exhilarated and as I go to bed, knowing the next day I will probably see myself become Michelle.

After breakfast, where Clarice joins us and learns of my decision (if it was a decision at all, or just me relaxing), we go upstairs into my room to more or less play house. Except that the man of the house is putting on a woman's skin.

"Clarice, dear, thanks so much for staying," says Agnes. "You don't know how happy it makes me that Michael no longer sees this as a punishment. He's going to learn so much from taking the woman's role, you know. "

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," chuckles Clarice, again wearing one of her sexy tops.

"Now Michael," says Agnes, "we're going to take you further along than you will ordinarily look while working at the store. We just want to impress you with how girly you can look, so you'll have confidence in your appearance. OK?"

"I guess."

With that, they give me a depilatory to take into the shower to remove all the bodily hair below my head. They're delighted that my facial hair hasn't fully matured yet - I just present a bare wisp of a mustache - so that's easily and completely shaved off. My face looks very smooth and almost feminine, and it's odd to look at my body without leg and arm hair. I've always had very little on my chest.

With the hair taken care of, they go to work on my makeup, sitting me in a chair with a thin towel around my shoulders. They deliberately don't let me look in a mirror until the very end of the entire transformation. I endure the lengthy application of mascara and eyeliner and the tweezering of my eyebrows (I tell them not to make them look too feminine). Then there's lipstick and powder and just a touch of perfume. They're using both Clarice's leftover makeup and some we bought.

I feel like I'm entering a gender Twilight Zone, floating a few feet above earth. Do many women have to go through this process every day, I ask? "Yes," is the reply - "You would be wise to remember how to do all these things."

Next, comes the part I avidly look forward to. They allow me to pick out which bra to wear, from a compilation of Clarice's and several we bought. I'd be embarrassed to wear one of hers while with her, so I choose one of the fancy lace-cuped ones we bought. It's a 34B and they show me how to adjust the straps and hook it in back. I promptly display an erection under my panties.

"Oh, well, there's little Michael showing himself," says Agnes, brushing her hand against it. Both women think that's quite funny. I'm merely embarrassed.

I still haven't seen myself in a mirror as I insert the breast forms into the bra cups - but I can easily imagine I have breasts just like the mother and daughter I'm next to.

After that, I strenuously pull the padded girdle on and it's wonderfully controlling and tight. They show me how to carefully roll nylons up my legs without creating runs, and how to attach them to the girdle's garters. I am again having an erection, but now it doesn't show, thank god. I love the feel of the nylons, I really do.

Over all that, a half slip, and over that, a form-fitting but still rather modest dress which they zip up in back. Love that.

Through all of this, they're chatting about other stuff, and also re-assuring me how good I'm looking, and how much I'm going to like their handiwork, but keep reminding me, "You're going to have to do this yourself soon."

Clarice reinforces what Agnes said earlier: "Michael, you should hope that your body stays just as it is, because it makes it so much easier to help you pass as a woman."

I insert my nyloned feet, not big like many guys have, into the two-inch-heeled, strapped black shoes, and am a bit wobbly. But I'm loving the tight feel of the bra and nylons. For the final finishing touch, Agnes carefully stretches the blonde wig over my head. It's too tight for my tastes, but I say nothing.

Now they're leading me over to a full-length mirror, and I see someone else utterly! I see a woman named Michelle, and she looks goddamn sexy and girly! Agnes and Clarice look approvingly at their creation. I say that I could easily go over and kiss my reflection.

"Well, that beats trying to kiss poor Sharon," says Agnes. "I wonder what she would think if she saw you this way? Maybe die of shock."

"I wonder what she'll say when Michelle comes to work?" asks Clarice.

They have me practice walking in the new shoes, and in a couple other pairs. "Oh, no, not like that at all," they say, showing me how women walk - with shorter steps and with hips slightly swaying. As they say, there's a lot to learn.

"And your arm movements, they're so masculine," they say. "Be more graceful!"

All during this re-make, I've noticed my voice rising in pitch as though it's accommodating itself to what I'm becoming. But still, both women tell me I need to work on a more naturally feminine voice. "Speak softly," advises Clarice. I try, but I can't completely erase Michael's deeper tones.

Agnes gets out her Polaroid camera to take some flash pictures. I hug them both and thank them profusely, feeling more and more like one of the girls. I remain dressed this way for the remainder of the day. Clarice soon leaves, and Agnes and I have dinner together like mother and daughter, as I suspected she wanted all along. Now, we're so friendly and chatty together! We get tipsy on wine and she gives me a little kiss on the cheek before I go up to my bedroom to turn in.

I take her advice about how to remove the makeup but still make a mess of it.

I carefully fold and put away my lingerie. I hang up the dress. I put the wig on its head form. I find my favorite babydoll nightie. Wearing it helps me fall asleep.