Seasons of Change Ch. 01

The feeling of the nylon next to his now silky-smooth calves and thighs as she rolled the stockings into place was electric and surreal. He could feel every millimeter of the weaving as she stretched them up further and further, closer to his stiff, explosive clit. She finished adjusting them running her hands very purposefully inside the lace topped stocking assuring that they rode as high as possible on his thigh even as she seemingly "accidentally" bumped his cock in so doing. Each bump simply resulted in his throbbing "clit" bounding immediately back whorishly before him in its lust induced hardness. As he began to squirm in torment, even the smallest movement, the stockings tickled and teased his skin making him even more electric with anticipation, sensuality and decadence.

And from that electric sensuality, Desiree began to emerge and take over his every thought. Mistress next reached for the sexy red panties; lacy, ultra-feminine and sheer. She slid them first over one foot and then the other, up over his stocking-covered calves and thighs and told him to stand. "Pull them into place for me love...let's see how much they cover?"

Her laughter was like music to his ears. He knew they would not do much to conceal his erection; his "clit" as she had instructed him to call it from now on. While they had role-played this scenario so many times, it was quite another thing altogether to be present now, before her, literally in the flesh and fulfilling this long-time fantasy for real. In the overwhelming realization that it was finally happening and quite probably, only the very tame and gentle beginnings of what he was to experience, the scant amount of sheer fabric and lace held his length and girth hotly against his smooth stomach but hid nothing. Plainly visible through the thin red weave were his large balls and the long, vein thickened shaft rising until the lacey band crossed below the engorged head which now blossomed luridly out of the top of his new panties.

Already clearly enraptured with her creation of her new plaything, Desiree, his Mistress grabbed him about the waist and pulled him to her. The hot freshness of her breath across his cooling, ultra-smooth and extra sensitive skin caused him to involuntarily gasp as his nerves shot sensual pleasantries throughout his being. Pulling him closer still, Mistress brought her full lips dangerously close to the throbbing bloom of his clit. "Her clit," he thought to himself already ceding to his new role has her slave.

"You'll experience much, much more of Mistress' talents later, slut," she said almost demurely and then, without another moment of hesitation she ran her tongue up the underside of his rigid member from balls to head. Even through the sheerness of his new panties the electricity of her direct sexuality froze him. As she immediately completed her journey up his hot shaft by sliding her lips down over the swollen crown until her way was hampered by the top band of his panties, he groaned again realizing the immediacy of his pending orgasm and its utter futility as she just as quickly pulled her mouth from him.

"Oh my!" she burst out in true girlish delight, "Even just a taste. Oh my! But first we must finish properly preparing my sweet, sweet Dez."

Next were the garters. She'd informed him when she purchased them. She even sent him photos when all these furnishing arrived at her home. But now, as Mistress pulled the matching red sheer lace garter belt up his legs and over the panties, he settled still further into what felt more and more like his true being--the sultry, humiliatingly whorish Desiree.

She purposefully found a matching set of lingerie for herself, not only to assure his transformation but to provide the most provocatively alluring visual appearance for her new girl as well. This even included assuring that the belt held six, not just four garter points, so that there were more of them hanging down so seductively on his thighs. As she gathered the tops of his stocking and hooked each garter carefully and tightly to them, the back of Mistress' fingers slid sensually across his smooth inner thighs and bottom. Given the lining of rubber inside each stocking top, the garters were really not necessary to keep them up, but they did complement the seductive transformation Mistress sought. So too, the tug of each of the six garters provided yet another sensual stimulus to his rising realization that he was truly meant to be not a man, but Desiree, when he was present with her.

She reached for the matching bustier next. He stood there...in stocking feet, towering over her, as she wrapped its silky stiffness about his new form, breasts included. As Mistress did so, she expertly snapped him into it; the embrace of it tightening with the flipping of each little hook over the matching loop to pull it even more firmly about him. Even with only the partial ability to take in his new lingerie, he knew Desiree was dressed like a cheap but elegant slut. From that realization, he slipped deeper into subspace as she told him to sit up straight for his first makeup lesson.

Positioning him lovingly before her vanity mirror, Desiree took in more of her new appearance. The lingerie seemed custom made and form fitting so carefully had she selected and ordered. Quakes of thrill ran through him as she draped a cloth over the mirror preventing him from seeing what would happen next. She then positioned him before the vanity and carefully showed him each piece of makeup and meticulously described, as she applied it, what it was for and how it was to be used.

He had, of course, seen many women apply their makeup over the years, but never quite taken in how much practice it would take to get it just right. Nor had he realized how involved the process was. Having it now done to him, however, he immediately realized that it was psychologically and emotionally, like preparing himself to be someone else; one who was a part of himself, but someone who fully appeared only beneath the painted coat of makeup and lingerie.

She helped him apply everything this time of course, as she wanted him to be as pretty as possible for the pictures she would take after his transformation was complete. It went quickly it seemed to him, foundation first, and then powder to smooth the surface of his skin, blush, eye shadow, mascara and finally lipstick and a topcoat of lip gloss. She intentionally didn't let him see quite yet. First, she stood and opened a box that she took from the closet. He'd seen it in the pictures she'd sent him, the shoes that would make him into something resembling a statuesque drag queen. Black patent leather pumps with buckles and locks in a cuff around the ankle. She knelt once again and slid his large masculine foot into the feminine footwear, securing them in place with the ankle cuffs and the, more completely, with each the snap of each locking hasp.

"Okay baby, one last thing," she said, and she reached for the wig sitting on a stand on top of the dresser hidden in "his" side of the closet. It was the same one she had chosen on the day when she gave him his slut name, Desiree. It was sandy brown and blonde, shoulder length with wispy curls that would make this initial transformation complete. She helped him slide it into place over his own thick curly hair and then stood back to peruse him.

"Model for me sweetheart...show me what you've got." He knew that this was coming; the test of whether or not he would be able to walk in the sexy 4-inch heels that she had purchased for him out of love and lust. Standing somewhat wobbly, he gamely tried to sashay about her bedroom, wiggling his hips the way he thought most women did when they walked. He watched as she reached for the camera--the instrument that scared him more than any of her phallic toys. Permanence, records of his predilection for kinky drag, something so utterly foreign to any strong, confident man. The mere appearance made him shiver.

She made him walk up and down the length of the room, strutting like a street walker, a common whore. Photographing him from every angle, she documented the metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. She focused especially on capturing close-ups of his man clit huge, engorged and increasingly needy, springing out from the provocative and sexy feminine attire. In his mind he knew not many women would indulge him this sort of thing, the stripping of a man's masculinity, the thing that made them a genetically superior hunter, gatherer. No, she was special, unique in so many ways and he marveled at her love for him, so complete and all-encompassing that she would do this for him, make him into this unnatural persona, not a man any longer, but a sissified wanton bitch. As Mistress continued to snap away, taking photo after photo for her permanent album, he absorbed all of what he knew to be Desiree and, in so doing, settled more and more naturally into his sashaying, alluring whorishness.