Magic Dress - Celia Pt. 02

Part 2

CHAPTER 6

P-day (for Phyllis) minus one. A couple more cautious trips had improved our confidence slightly. The train was in the late morning, so we had time to make ourselves ready in our travelling clothes. Celia had a twinset and tartan skirt -- very modest. Some control pants hid the bulge well enough. She was wearing tights and mid-heel shoes. Oh yes, and clip-on earrings. I had styled her hair as well as I could. I had slacks, a top and a jacket. Yes, I was wearing the trousers!

We got a taxi and found our seats on the train without mishap. No-one said anything. Either they did not notice or they did not care. We were served complimentary coffee and I took several snaps of her smiling. The waiter offered to take a picture of us both, so did so, sitting and standing.

In the hotel was something we had not anticipated. We were asked for proof of identity, so produced our driving licences. The receptionist scarcely glanced at them, but I put my credit card in the machine to ensure payment.

Then we were in the room. We had done it. We kissed and hugged and one thing led to another and then 'a bit of the other'. (Britslang for sex.) We showered and had a nap.

For dinner he put on his man clothes, I put on a dress and we were Mr and Mrs again. He said he was glad to be out of the control pants. We had a wander around admiring the architecture, then back to the room, where we put on our nightdresses and chatted while failing to watch TV.

Next morning, he was down (as Mr) for an early breakfast while I was getting ready. He came back, and started to become Celia. When I was decent, I went down to eat, then came back to get us both into a state fit to meet Queen Phyllis and her consort.

We enquired at the reception of the posh hotel. A member of staff made a phone call, and then insisted on taking us to the room. I am always nervous in these places. Are you supposed to tip or not? For just taking you to the room? Well, I didn't. Sorry.

He knocked on the door, and opened it when he heard "come in".

In we went to a grand suite which probably cost more per night than our entire holiday. There was Phyllis and her husband whom she introduced as Vanessa. Their clothes probably cost more than our entire wardrobe. But Celia was definitely prettier!

"Nice to see you again, Phyllis and Vanessa," I said. "This is my husband, Celia."

"Lovely to meet you, Celia," gushed Phyllis, air-kissing us both.

Vanessa held out a hand to Celia. "It's a pleasure," she said in a soft feminine voice. And I realised we had not practised any voice with Celia. Damn!

"Delighted to meet you both," said Celia, in tones a lot better than I had expected.

"You're very pretty, Celia," said Vanessa.

"Why thank you," said Celia. "I think you're lovely, too."

They sat obediently where we told them, and Phyllis began her questioning.

"Tell me, Celia, do you like being a girl?"

"Oh yes, mistress Phyllis, I do."

"Did you always want to be a girl?"

"No, I didn't want it at first, and I was a bit naughty, but my kind mistress knew what I needed, and made me. Now I am so grateful to her, and would do anything for her."

"How long did it take your mistress to make you into a girl?"

Celia hung her head.

"Nearly a year. I was bad and resisted her. I am sorry I was so difficult for her, but now I'm fine."

(Ha ha! A year instead of eighteen months!) While Phyllis looked to be collecting her thoughts, Vanessa spoke up.

"Mistress, may I have a word with you?"

They went into another room for a moment.

They came back and Phyllis said "You girls should go down to the coffee lounge and have a chat while we talk about important things."

Obediently they got up and Vanessa led the way.

Well, now we could talk, and I presented my little white lies including the photographs of Celia's "training". The photo on the train clearly impressed her, though she tried not to show it, as she said "how nice".

I discovered the best thing was to let her tell the stories she imagined my photos told by reference to her struggles with Vanessa's forcible feminization. I actually had to say very little.

"This is Celia, the first time as a maid..." at which point she interrupted

"Doesn't look very happy, does she? I remember when I was trying to get Vanessa..." and so on.

It was two years so a lot had happened to her, though very little to us apart from Celia. She had been to exciting places and met famous people, and her husband's family were very influential. There were careful throwaway lines to indicate the life of luxury, and how these things didn't matter.

(Yes, Phyllis, I began to think. You ARE a stuck-up bitch.)

Finally, she announced that we should better go and attend to our husbands, so we went down find two ladies chatting amicably with a teapot and some empty cups between them.

"Have you been a good girl, Vanessa?" asked Phyllis.

"Yes, mistress."

"Have you had a nice time, Celia?" I asked.

"Yes, lovely, thank you," was the reply. "Vanessa is so interesting. We got on like a house on fire."

"It's been fascinating talking with you, dear Celia," said Vanessa. "I hope you'll be able to join us for dinner, both of you."

"But..." began Phyllis. We all looked expectantly, but she obviously could not think of any reason to stop us.

"We'd love to," I quickly said.

"Great," said Vanessa in a more masculine voice. "A limo from this hotel will pick you up at seven. No need to worry about fancy dress. I'm going to be in my business clothes and there will be a couple of guys there, but it will be really informal. Jeans and t-shirt if you like."

We got a taxi back to our hotel, and shared our experiences. Celia started.

"What Phyllis told you was a load of bullshit. Gary was crossdressing as Vanessa before she met him, and he told her before they got married. If anything, he has trained her. He lets her tell her stories about training him to folks like us who don't matter. Anyone who does matter, knows the truth."

You could have knocked me down with a feather!

"I'm sorry for her," she continued. "All these things she has that she didn't really earn. Someone else got her the first-class degree. She boasts about her grand lifestyle, but it's no credit to her. Now she pretends her crossdressing husband is her achievement, when it was handed to her, like everything else. I just hope she really appreciates how much Gary loves her."

"Anyway, he wants to meet me in my man clothes, so perhaps it will be jeans and a T-shirt!"

Fortunately, we had a decent shirt and trousers for him, so we were both presentable at the dinner. Gary looked very smart but casual in what must have been a handmade suit. There were two guests: an American, Rod, in an open-necked blue shirt, and a German, Herman, (yes it rhymes but not in German!) in a suit and tie: business people. We were very much the poor relations, but I am sure no-one minded. Herman was surprised when Howard responded to the introductions in fluent German, and they had a short conversation, at which he laughed. (Oh, the mystery of the German joke!)

Everyone was very nice, and complimented me on my outfit, and Howard on having such a pretty wife. I suppose Phyllis had received her compliments earlier. It was, of course, a lovely meal. We all mentioned something about our background, but it was mostly in one ear and out the other. Just social, and very little surprising. They were interested to learn that Howard had done a joint degree in French and German, but my work as a Medical Laboratory Technician got the "Oh that must be very interesting" brush-off it usually does. (It is very interesting and important, actually.)

Phyllis said remarkably little, but I suppose did her duty as a pretty well-dressed wife with a cute British accent.

Back in the hotel, we were relieved that we had got through the experience without disaster, but agreed that Gary seemed to be a very clever and nice man. Yes, he came from an advantaged background but he seemed to be making his own way in the world and was not stuck up at all. I suppose being female part of the time must make him more open-minded.

However, our next problem was the following day.

In their conversations in the coffee lounge (where Vanessa actually had Earl Grey tea -- "It's so English!") the ladies had made an arrangement to meet in the morning to go around the Victoria and Albert Museum together. Vanessa was bowled over by the impression we had made that Celia could go out in public, and begged to join us. Of course, it was well beyond sitting on a train, but we could not think of how to back out.

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CHAPTER 7

We would normally have walked, but of course a hotel limo with Vanessa inside picked us up from our modest hotel and took us to Cromwell Road. Vanessa was clearly excited but nervous.

"It's always been private," she explained. "In more than ten years I have hardly been outside at all. I am so grateful to you guys. I just hope I don't chicken out. Please help me if I do!"

Well, Vanessa was just blown away by the V & A, as well she should be. If it was empty, the building alone would be worth visiting. The ceramic staircases and the refreshment rooms stunned her as they had stunned us on our first visit. And the eclectic variety of objects and paintings was overwhelming. The giant plaster casts of monuments such as Trajan's Column are always impressive.

There was so much to appreciate that both Vanessa and Celia forgot to be nervous until they had to go to the toilet. We walked for ages, so it was a good job we were all wearing flat shoes. We took a late lunch in the lovely Gamble Room café once the rush had died down, and were profusely thanked.

"For new crossdressers, you guys do it so much better than us," she said. "It was kind of fun being Phyllis's obedient servant, but I think a female friend is much better. That's how we're going to play it from now on. She's going to take me out and be proud of me, I reckon."

"I told Vanessa you had not actually dominated me, and she told me what had really happened," said Celia.

"Yeah," continued Vanessa. "I realise that I had a privileged upbringing, but I can't really apologise for my birth. We all think what is around us is normal. I assumed all households had a cook and a gardener: everyone we visited did as well. I also thought it was normal for fathers to wear a dress sometimes, as my Pop did, and supposed that I would do so when I grew up. However, at school and college I learned that these things were better kept in the family. I was really worried when I told Phyllis about me, but she seemed quite pleased and has been a big help with my costumes. I accepted her instructions at the beginning because she knew better than me about makeup and clothes, but it turned into a bit of a game, which I didn't mind. A few business associates know about Vanessa, but I might let a few more in on the secret, and I am certainly going to get Phyllis to take me out and about. Next time we're in London we're certainly going to spend a day here."

Gary had some business to attend to, so the day ended with "If there's ever anything I can do for you, just let me know!" which was nice, but just one of the things people say. (And we would never ask a rich person for help. We have some pride.)

We were also feeling tired, so walked back to the hotel. Yes, Celia wanted to walk along the street in her dress, and why not? Just two women on holiday in London.

Back in the room we undressed and had a celebratory fuck. I was going to say lovemaking, but after all that female time, I really appreciated the simplicity of a man on top of me and a cock being enthusiastically applied. Howard had some advantages over Celia!

That evening we had a nice dinner and a stroll as husband and wife.

As we cuddled in bed, I told him how much I had appreciated his efforts.

"I really will let you fuck my ass when you want. You deserve it, after what you've done."

"Of course I will, if you really want it, though it may take some getting used to for both of us," he replied in a slightly puzzled tone.

"It's meant to be a treat for you. I know you've always wanted it, and I think many couples do. I sure if you could learn to be a woman then I could learn to take it up the backside."

"I've never particularly wanted it, though I know a lot of women like it, so I'm happy to do it if YOU want it."

"But you've often said how much you want my ass!"

"I'm sorry, darling. That must be the effect of too much American TV. I love your bum, but have no particular desire for your bum-hole. I love the beautiful roundness. I love it in my hands, against my face, or against my hips when I make love to you from behind. I'm always glad to see it and feel it."

So that settled that, to my great relief.

He added something else. "Thinking about it, it must be the American TV that makes us say 'ass' instead of the proper English word 'arse'. It's Germanic, of course: the Germans say 'Arsch'. The French say 'cul'. So if you tell a Frenchman he's cool, you're saying he's an arse!"

I quickly changed topic before this became a lecture. (He has a slight tendency to do this with words.)

"So that will be the end of Celia, I suppose?" Actually, I was a bit sorry.

He thought for a while.

"If it's OK by you, I'd rather not give her up completely. Could you put up with her occasionally? You see, unlike Phyllis you HAVE feminized your husband. It's a genuine achievement."

I wasn't sure how to take this. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I do like being smooth and wearing colourful clothes in nice fabrics. I love lacy underwear. Dresses and skirts are nice. The ritual of putting on makeup puts me into a nice womanly mode. Walking in heels was a bit of struggle, but now I feel it would be a shame not to show off that I can do it. Somehow I feel especially comfortable and relaxed."

"Looking on the internet I read about forced feminization, which sounds horrible, and was what Phyllis pretended. You only ever persuaded or occasionally tricked me, and you never humiliated me, even when you were teaching me. It was really only on the spur of the moment I referred to you as mistress when Phyllis was there."

He had more to say.

"I think it is probably mainly psychological, once I read about the supposed oestrogens in the herbal tea, but I did seem to feel some changes which I liked. I will probably keep taking the pills occasionally, but stop if I can't get it up or start to grow breasts."

He stopped and looked thoughtful.

"Actually, I don't want to become a woman physically, but a pair of breasts would be nice!"

I made a decision.

"Let's go for it! How about you finish this holiday as Celia? Starting now! You travelled here as Celia: you can travel back as Celia, and be all the time in between. I don't care what the hotel thinks. We're guests, we've paid and it's our holiday. How about it?"

"I'll go and get my nightie," was the answer.

I had the rest of the holiday without Howard, and it was a lovely time. We went to the Natural History Museum and back to the V & A. We also walked about the area in mid-heel shoes. For dinner the next evening, Celia was done up to the nines with stockings, suspenders and high heels while I wore slacks and a jacket. The staff just served us without comment and we left a good tip. (What else do they care about?) Afterwards we strolled around as if we were going somewhere and imagined that people would think us a lesbian couple! We took a lot of selfies, and in few cases kind people took a picture of us together outside famous buildings. We did the same for them, of course.

All the way home with Celia. What if someone saw us? So what, we said!

However, it was back to work for both of us. We decided that Howard could relax in a dress any evening, but had 'Celia Saturdays'. Coming home on Friday he would dress up, we would send for a takeaway and Celia would answer the door to receive it. We would have dinner together, and he would be she until Sunday morning when Howard would perform his marital duties.

The first Saturday we got a special delivery, and a delightful surprise. It was a pair of breasts! To be precise: three pairs in A, B and C cups as a present from Vanessa. They were very realistic in look and feel. The B cups fitted the bra we had for the green dress, but we now have several bras, so that Celia can have the size she wants as the mood takes her. Lucky woman!

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