Finding Rhiannon Pt. 03

The bath water had gone stone cold. As I let it out, it left a purple scum behind, speckled with the remnants of my close shave. Rather than leave it like that, I used the shower head to rinse the bath out, then ran it over myself.

Looking around, I noticed a bottle of what I assumed was Lucy's shampoo and used that to wash my hair. Then I climbed out and towelled myself dry, marvelling again at how different it felt to be hairless. When I looked in the mirror, however, there was still no sign of any reflection.

There was a light tap at the door. "Rhiannon? Are you decent?" I shivered, then wrapped the towel around my waist. "Okay," I called.

Martin came in and went straight for one of the drawers. Turning around, he handed me a purple tube. "Forgot to give you this. It's lavender oil -- well more of a cream really. If you rub it in all over, it'll help moisturise your skin and lessen any damage from the shaving."

He glanced at me. "You washed your hair -- good. I'll do a bit of styling afterwards and reapply your makeup. And listen, when you're finished, I'll be in Lucy's room -- there's something else I wanted to suggest." Before I could ask him what that was, he had left again.

Taking the top off the tube, I squeezed out a dollop of white cream and began to apply it to my legs. When I lifted my fingers to my nose I smelled the same odour as the bath salts had produced -- of course, lavender.

Once again, it took quite a time to spread it over my entire body. I hesitated for a minute before applying it to my genitals, but then went ahead. Surprisingly, perhaps, my smallish cock didn't stir as I smeared it with cream. But what I did feel all over was a kind of glow. The slightly chilly sensation that the absence of my body hair had induced was replaced with a kind of warmth and vibrancy.

As I finished applying the cream, I heard a distinct sound -- like an intake of breath. I looked around, but couldn't see anything or anyone.

Shaking my head I picked up the panties I had discarded. They felt very different indeed as they slipped up my shaven legs -- and their effect on my naked genitals was dramatic. My cock hardened instantly as the lacy material settled over it, seeming to cling to my member and now hairless ball sack in a most disconcerting way.

I gritted my teeth and fought down the temptation to rub the shaft through the panties. Instead I gave my balls a quick and painful squeeze. I nearly cried out, but it did the trick. My erection subsided as quickly as it had arrived. Wincing, I hung up my towel and went back to the pink bedroom.

Martin was waiting for me. He was standing in front of the wardrobe, one side of which was now open. "Feel better for the bath?," he asked.

I nodded. I could still feel the pain in my testicles, but that was better than trying to conceal a hard-on behind a thin layer of lace.

Martin coughed. "I, er, assumed you were going to put your underwear back on. But I also wondered if you wanted to wear something over the top of it? You know, to cover it up?"

I looked at the rack of clothes behind him. "You mean ... wear something of Lucy's?" I asked slowly.

"Sure," he said. "Look, I know this will seem weird. Well, everything about this is weird, right? But Lucy's got a lot of stuff and I'm positive she wouldn't mind ... And the size should be okay too."

As he said that, he pulled a dress off a hanger and, somewhat hesitantly, handed it to me. I could tell from the riot of colour behind him that this was one of Lucy's more restrained outfits.

It was made of some kind of very light wool, mostly black, but with a bright red piping. The neckline was high and the sleeves were made of a different, see-through material, which I thought might be chiffon.

A lot of thoughts rushed through my head, but all I could manage as I took the proffered item was "Um, thanks -- I guess I'll try it on."

Without another word, he left the bedroom. I wasn't sure who was looking more embarrassed.

Sighing, I put the dress down carefully on the bed and turned to the pile of lingerie I had taken off earlier. I knew I was going to have problems as soon as I started pulling on the stockings. The feeling of the sheer silk on my shaven legs was ... exquisite. I was rock hard by the time I had the first one only halfway up. And as my engorged member throbbed within the black lace that imprisoned it, that only intensified the sensation.

I did my best to ignore my arousal as I fastened the stockings onto the garter belt, donned and tightened the corset and, once again used a couple of rolled up panties to fill out the cups. I also had to block out thoughts of what real breasts would feel like in their place.

When I was done, all but my head had reappeared in the reflection in the wardrobe mirror. But that also meant I could see the tent pole straining against my panties. Dress or no dress, there was no way I was going to cover that. And no amount of ball squeezing was going to get rid of this particular erection, I suspected.

There seemed to be only one solution. As quietly as I could, I opened up the bedroom door and peered out. There was no sign of Martin, who was presumably either in his own bedroom or in the living area.

In a flash I was across the corridor and into the bathroom, taking care not to place my stockinged feet in any of the damp spots on the floor. I locked the door as gently as I could and then looked around. Pulling a fistful of tissues from a conveniently placed box, I drew out my stiff cock from inside the panties -- and stopped.

Like a lot of guys, I assumed, I hadn't entirely relinquished the joys of masturbation when I got married. But it had still become something very occasional over the first eighteen months or so of married life.

I had sex on a regular enough basis with Caroline that I didn't see the need much, even if our fucking had become a little mechanical. About the only time now I slipped away for a secret wank was when I'd just spent a lot of time with some of the hot young lawyers or personal assistants at work and needed to relieve a little tension.

Well, that was the case now, wasn't it? Even if the reason was a little different? I leaned back against the door, my legs spread. Almost as if it had a life of its own, my left hand grabbed the throbbing shaft protruding from my panties and began to pump it.

Loyally, I tried to picture Caroline in my mind, wearing the kind of sexy lingerie I was now improbably modelling. But I kept coming back to the thought -- indeed the reality -- of me in those clothes. The lacy panties. The tight corset. The black stockings that clung to my hairless and now very feminine looking legs.

Without quite realising it, I hunched forward slightly and my free hand started stroking my thigh, up and down, enjoying the contrast between the bare skin and the taut material of the stockings.

When my hand crept underneath the stocking top to touch the flesh beneath, it was as if I was exploring the body of a sexy woman -- and being explored, all at the same time. The sight of my brightly if inexpertly painted fingernails underneath the mesh of the stocking just added to the pleasure.

So caught up was I in the intoxicating thrill of the lingerie I was wearing and touching that I had no idea how close I was to coming. It was only with a considerable effort that I refrained from letting out a yell as I shot load after load into the tissues gripped in my fist.

As it was, I pushed back hard into the door and heard the hinges creak. It was just as well the door was solidly built or I might have been in real trouble.

Weak-kneed and trembling from the after effects of the sudden and unexpected orgasm, I half slumped, half slid until I was sitting on the floor. Fortunately there was no indication that Martin had heard anything amiss.

I stayed where I was for a few moments then clambered unsteadily to my feet. I was about to toss the tissues in the toilet and flush them away when I remembered that Martin might ask questions about that. After all, I hadn't yet resumed peeing. So instead I stuffed them into the bottom of the waste bin and gave my hands a thorough wash.

In just a minute more I was back in the bedroom, with Martin apparently none the wiser. My heart rate had dropped to something closer to its normal pace, though I still felt a little flushed -- and not a bit ashamed.

It seemed deeply wrong, not to say perverted, to be taking pleasure from the way I was dressed. But I consoled myself with the thought that I was the victim here. I couldn't be blamed if something had made me like women's clothing, could I?

When I felt that my temperature had returned to normal, I picked up the dress that Martin had given me. After inspecting it a few times, I decided it would be easier to pull on over my head.

It fit rather better than I could have expected, though the skirt was shorter than I would have liked, finishing just above my knees. I would have to be careful when I was sitting down not to show any stocking tops. A little voice in the back of my head was trying to suggest that this might somehow be an attractive thing to do, but I ignored it.

I was particularly taken by how nice my arms looked in the chiffon sleeves. The pleasurable feel of the wispy material against my bare skin was already making me wonder whether I mightn't need another trip to the bathroom soon ...

Slipping back into my high-heeled pumps, to which I was clearly starting to become accustomed, I went out to the living room to find Martin. He gave a low whistle of approval when he saw me.

"That looks great!," he said, "very, ah, elegant." I blushed at the compliment -- especially as I had the impression he had been about to say something a little more flattering.

"Thanks," I said. "And I'm grateful to Lucy as well. I hope she's not going to mind me borrowing this?"

Martin grinned. "I'm sure she won't. Now, shall we see what we can do with your face and hair?"

Earlier in the day, when I was trapped in the store, Martin had taken just ten minutes or so to throw some makeup onto me. This time he took his time and it must have been at least an hour before he led me back into Lucy's bedroom to show me the results. They made me gasp.

Once again he had seamlessly used creams and powders to hide what little was left of my stubble and reshape my face. The colours on my eyes and lips beautifully complemented the charcoal and red of the dress I was wearing.

He had repainted my fingernails. He had even lightly sprayed some perfume behind my ears. It had a lavender fragrance, to complement the delicate scent that seemed to emanate from each pore of my skin.

But the real transformation was to my hair. My dark brown locks were pretty unruly, but he had teased some strands at the front up and together to form a raised piece that he called a pompadour. Other hairs had been pinned together almost at random.

The look was simultaneously sculpted and yet wild, suggesting a vivacity that was all the more notable for its contrast with my timid personality. And it was very feminine.

The overall effect was stunning. I had thought I looked pretty good at the shop, but this was something else.

"You like?" asked Martin. "Oh yes," I breathed, and it was nothing but the truth. As a man, I was skinny, awkward-looking, unprepossessing. But like this? Well, I'd like to think I might turn some heads ...

Without thinking about it I leaned over and gave Martin a kiss on the cheek. Now it was his turn to colour.

"All right," he said, absent-mindedly rubbing the spot on his face where I'd left a little residue of my lipstick. "We should maybe go out a little later and see if any of this has made a difference to people being able to see you." He gestured at the mirror. "Your reflection certainly looks good enough."

As he wandered out of the bedroom and back into the living area, I followed him.

"If it's alright with you though," he was saying, "I might pop out quickly and pick up something for lunch -- we're already well into the afternoon."

"Sure," I said, "I might put my head down for a while and take a nap -- I'm pretty tired, what with one thing and another. I'll be careful though not to muss any of this up, I promise!"

"No problem," he said, opening the front door and smiling back at me. "I don't suppose -"

"Oh hi Martin!" It was the voice of his neighbour, Zoe, who cut him off. She appeared at the doorway. "Class finished early. I was just coming to -"

She stopped in mid-sentence and her eyes looked straight at me. There was a pause and then her face lit up in a smile.

"Oh sorry! Didn't realise I was interrupting!" She looked me up and down and then turned back to Martin. "Who's your gorgeous friend? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Martin's head snapped round to look at me, shock on his face, then back to Zoe. Not for the first time today, he managed to rally very impressively. "Um, sure," he said. "Zoe, this is ... Rhiannon."

Zoe turned the full wattage of her smile on me. "Oh, Rhiannon, what a lovely name! Hi, I'm Zoe!"

As my head reeled, the space around me was filled with a sharp intake of breath ...

[To be continued]