Sally Wilson strutted out of the elevator the new stiletto heels adding confidence to her gait. The woman had her hand swinging her purse while her thumb flicked the emails so they’d scroll on her I-phone.
The many months behind her the rise in income from her bold idea had validated Kate’s selection to make her president.
Spiritual icons remind one that ‘things’ don’t have meaning. You can’t love something that can’t love you back. One might try but the more things they accumulate showing them love the wider the chasm of a void becomes.
She had read all about it from the books written by the ‘New-age Sages’ but you couldn’t convince her it didn’t feel like love driving around in her new BMW 700 series.
Her eyes peered over the top of her phone as she neared her corner office.….’oh it’s working…whatever Kate is doing to him Patrick is becoming less of a man than he used to be’. The thought made her smile….So did using the office that had once been his.
Only the Germans and their long history on earth could come up with a word like ‘schadenfreude’….taking joy in the misery of others. Sally wasn’t sure how much yet she knew some part of Patrick felt bad that he had lost nearly everything he once had.
Truth was she picked up on the fact his perspective and looks had changed to one decidedly un-masculine. Smooth skin, manicured nails, well managed hair, focused attention on clothing selection, a softer tone and speech pattern more and more the signs were showing. In some way it was hard to believe it was the same man that used to slap her around as way of making him suck his member.
Right in front of her eyes Patrick’s transformative process was occurring. Too manly she had stopped using his first name the woman enjoyed pointing out how effeminate he’d become.
“Nice top sweetie…I’ve been noticing how much you’ve adopted to your new office wear…”
“Good morning Ms. Sally…thank you Ma’am…”
“….Well going on for months it’s not really new anymore is it?”
“No Ma’am …Ms. Kate has instilled in me that I represent you and my appearance should always look nice…. shall I bring you your usual coffee and scone…I picked up 5 fresh ones before coming to work this morning.”
Sally cocked her hip and slid her bottom onto his desk crossing her legs. The back of her hand ran along his smooth jaw-line.
“Blueberry would be nice…thanks doll-face.”
Feeling her fingers caress Patrick blushed on hearing it. Her hand lowered seeing the telltale sign coming from the impression of the spaghetti strap she let her finger trace its outline.
“Yes Ma’am….Oh pardon me I needed to mention…Ms. Haverstock called and asked that you call her back.”
Sally turned all business a quick motion she tapped the number on her phone sending the call out.
“Hi Helen…yes about that order of your's….”
A glance sent his way while covering the mouth piece she looked at Patrick .
“You do look nice these days darling…I’ll take that scone now…..yes Helen what I was thinking.”
Inside her office Sally was finishing hammering out the sales order.
“ We scale the rate down by 10% over 1.5 million….if you make the order for 2 million you’ll end of saving a lot of money if you sell them by the end of the year.”
She gave pause after making the enticement. Watching Patrick swaying his hips as he walked in she couldn’t help but see the panty-lines. A smile came on her face on hearing Helen.
“Good 2 million it is.”
The door to her office closed Sally had Kate on the phone as they chatted.
“I’d love to see him in skirts or dresses.”
“Soon…very soon…we’re attending a party this weekend Sally…. it should take him past the point of no return.”
Men don’t really do it perhaps the exception being some attractively gay males. As a whole they’ll take a shower then spend a few minutes and bingo the average man is ready for a night out.
Resting on the soft cloth covered bench seat Patrick looked into the mirror. Fresh from preliminary bathing how many women have done the same?….sitting at their vanity table ready to enhance their beauty. It was the feel of everything as it caressed his skin.
It has always been the intersection where beauty meets personality as it merges with emotions and feelings….innocent yet alluring…virginal but wicked ….smoldering carnal potency yet a hint of restrained reserve… all its expression is defined by how a woman looks as a finished product.
A Course in Miracles urges one to view their body as a whole. A physical shell containing a spirit. ACIM Condems the ego and the way it thinks which wants one’s body to be seen as a collection of parts.
Ignoring the spiritual view he seemed to break his body down in sections…it had grown so much he knew his hair looked pretty the way it was styled and his face too….the makeup the subtle added weight…he felt so aroused while she’d taught him over the months while doing hers as he looked on.
The soft powders the lovely array of colors…the way his eyelashes lifted up and out so long they felt so sensual being made dark laden with bands of mascara.
Patrick parted his lips the deep plum-red color provided contrast as he looked into the mirror to see his image so feminine reflecting back. The soft ivory white of his complexion …the strips of concealer creating shadows….the triangle of blush as the rouge spread out before disappearing. The distinctive contour of the eyebrows only a woman has.
He shook his head just to feel the dangling ears move. Mindful of the fingernails his hand clutched at his hair moving it back only to see it fall down into the same style. A quick glance he liked how pretty the polish looked on the manicured nails along with how lengthy they'd become.
One could barely grab anything …with nails like that…not really. The pads of the fingers would be needed when touching. It represented an admission of softness perhaps even a weakness so different than a man’s grip.
Patrick’s eyes dropped to the next section his chest. It couldn’t be called masculine….not anymore. He sat up straight in the chair with perfect posture. It made his small breasts lift out better….and his areolas and nipples he knew both were larger….more girlish looking…ignoring it they had yet to discuss the obvious.
As best he could tell they were growing….expanding becoming softer but with liquid ….like there was milk or something inside giving them a shape and jiggle. So pretty in their slope whenever they moved it was a reminder.
The ‘Zoomba’ class was helping a sense of pride moving past wearing tights and leotard he acquired a subtle fluidness. His eyes moved to the next section to take in the sight of his waist and hips and bottom.
Flat without very many firm muscles he hadn’t had this kind of thin tummy since when he was a teenager. As the tapered waist slid down it merged with his butt and thighs. His bottom felt so much more rounded and his thighs too…there was a feminine look about them.
Leaning forward he let his hands slide down his smooth shapely legs. The time spent in the high heels was making a difference. A gentle sigh slipping out he liked how pretty his toes looked polished in the same plum-red color as his fingernails and lipstick.
Delicate in his manner silently he slid the suspender belt around his waist giving the 6” lace band a tug as if to say ‘this only looks good on a tapered girlish waistline’.
First one then the other Patrick moved in slow motion picking up the stockings he gently laddered them up his leg enjoying how smooth they felt as he connected the frilly garter-tabs. Closing his eyed the truth dawned on him...'oh to be a woman...it's such a privilege'.
The bra was next a tiny bow in the middle holding it up his eyes took in how beautiful it appeared. A hint of feminine whimsy the sheerness had a series of small vines embroidered on it partially hiding his nipples creating a mystery to them…were they hard…were they large…and how about each areola?...would they spark arousal when viewed naked?
A tug to the bra strap he looked down. He needed to feel them…the pair of high heels the way the attractive bows at their tips looked. They weren’t regular heels they hadn’t been something a woman wears when thinking about keeping her feet comfortable doing a day’s work.
It would be a crime against femininity not to wear them.
No these were special...4" of added height shimmering silver glitter along the sides a ‘Jimmy Choo’ signature at $1200. He and his friends used to call them ‘fuck me’ pumps when they saw women wearing heels like he was about to slip on.
Typical males they would boast and brag what they would do to the female that was teetering in them. Yet now they were his. What would his friends say if they saw him in heels?…but they weren’t really his friends…not anymore…the ones he’d hung with hated all gays and Cd’s…an especially trans-women….for committing their sin of abandoning masculinity.
Now Patrick would be the one who had to be careful how he stepped….what kind of small gait or stride was needed…to make his hips and his ass sway seductively.
The high heels felt nice slipping both feet into them was like becoming a member of an exclusive club. His hands slid up meeting in the middle they moved to the crevice between each breast. Closing his eye’s he wondered how sexy he’d feel to have someone else remove the brassiere revealing the pair of breasts.
There had been a time when he called them tits along with a million other crass or rude or insensitive terms….but that no longer seemed appropriate…soft…seductive.. womanly twin globes….now they were protruding from his chest.
The powerful idea of it…feminine breasts. They were on the other side of the chasm…one had to cross ‘the point of no return’ to get there.
It was time for the panties knees together it was easy to lean forward as thin as he was. Pinching his thumbs and index fingers to hold them delicately he lowered the panties before stepping in through the openings one pointed toe in heels at a time.
Uniquely feminine Patrick had seen a few women do it… the challenge of it…getting in …or out of panties while balancing in pumps. He’d thought some took a pride in it….a look sent a man’s way saying ‘I bet you couldn’t do this’.
At his knees the pretty knickers moved up ready to fulfill their purpose of hiding what was between his inner-thighs. The little plaything…so cute…so pretty…so locked up in a champagne-pink colored cage. The way it pointed lower gave off a camel-toe appearance.
As they drew closer he wiggled his hips pulling them into place after letting his fingers adjust the panty at the waistline. Patrick was no longer embarrassed to admit it. A point of pride for her Goddess Kate had made a ‘pantywaist’ out of him.
His head drifted back the freshly shampooed hair touching his shoulders feeling so sensual with each of the many strands feeling alive. His eyes closed filling up his senses with thoughts of the power of femininity.
“You can feel it can’t you?….”
Instead of being startled he opened his eyes gently smiling at the woman that had given him the gift bringing him as close as he ever was to his womanhood. Would there be more to it?…would he be asked for the ultimate sacrifice?…exchanging a penis for the beauty of a flower of a vagina.
“…That feminine feeling…some more than others…but every woman has it.”
The women picked up the bottle of perfume with the old-fashioned bulb. A small squeeze and the fragrance spritzed out into the air surrounding Patrick letting the aroma land on his body.
“….It’s why we love wearing our lingerie…pretty clothing may go over it yet underneath we know our intimate wear is there making us feel like the woman we know we are…or perhaps better still…can be.”
Her touch was so soft just what one would hope to feel from a woman. Mistress Kate let her hands rest at his shoulders before gently rubbing them affectionately along his thin arms.
Without hardly moving them at all she could tell the masculine firmness had been lost replaced with a sexy weakness that comes from having little musculature.
His head was lifted by the chin a single finger was all that was needed yet it moved like a woman’s would free of resistance as though it wanted to be guided
“A little more rouge darling next we’ll touch up your mascara…eye lashes made sultry it is a feminine birth-right…men like girls with darkness at their eyes…it gives them the feeling they are conquering a mystery in some way.”
Biting her lip the Goddess added.
"....And of course they are...yet it's one we make them pay a heavy price for in the days ahead."
His legs crossed at the knee he hadn’t thought about it…Kate had said a ‘Swingers party’ he just presumed some female may want him like he was still a male. He’d once read 80% of crossdressers are heterosexual. Patrick suddenly realized it was more likely a man would want him looking how he was....not only want him....but also want to be inside him...'dear me what's that going to feel like?...will it hurt this first time?...or will the joy far outweigh any pain that comes when being deflowered?"
Kate let her hand slip inside his pretty lace bra gently caressing the soft breast tissue before settling on the hard nipple.
“Baby that is so feminine…I may be female but I still enjoy playing with another woman’s nipples….they way they firm up…how nice it feels to have them sucked and toyed with…the lovely nubs being pulled at with wet lips….and to think my darling can lactate.”
It made him think back to moments before when he slipped his panties on settling them into place. He’d pondered what it would feel like to have a pussy between his legs.
“I love the name Tiffany…there is something about it that makes a girl feel special when asked what her name is…Tiffany…it conveys a weak yet alluring femininity about it….like one knows their helpless yet full of carnal urges….like a playful kitten of a girl wanting to be dominated…..needing to surrender….her mind along with her body.”
Hands still at his shoulders Mistress Kate pressed her cheeks next to Patrick’s as they both looked into the vanity mirror at the same time.
“Say my name is Tiffany.”
He hadn’t thought his voice capable of such soft tone but it came out as gently as any submissive woman might say it.
“My name is Tiffany.”
The words his Mistress had said moments before exploded in his mind.
‘Tiffany’ wanted….no make that needed to…the domination….the surrender….the feminine sexual urges…to be treated like a kitty-kat of a girlish-kitten…she had to experience all of it.
“Now say…my name is Tiffany…..how may I please you sir?”
Tiffany pulled his cheeks into a womanly blush. The lips pursed together showing off their glittering shimmer before speaking.
“My name is Tiffany…..how may I please you sir?”
Kate held his hand by the fingers letting Tiffany rise up like a ballerina doing Swan Lake at the MET.
“Time to bend at the waist my pretty.”
Slick with lube the large anal-plug slid in like it was returning home. The t-girl started wondering when it would be removed next before thinking who it might be.
End of part 5 …