WTF is going on? You
may ask... Well... my mother works for herself and for no other
reason than trying to impress one of her clients, she claimed that
she had a Personal Assistant to help manage her diary, run errands,
keep her topped up with coffee and so on. It was one of those
innocent white lies until this particular client wanted a face to
face meeting to discuss a new contract, and the client insisted that
Mum's PA also attended the meeting. The fact that her PA didn't exist
was a big problem, and it was my idea that Mum simply gets someone to
pretend to be her PA. The last thing I expected was that it would be
me!
I've had less than a
week to 'get into character', which has mostly involved getting used
to wearing heels, learning what a PA actually does and learning as
much as possible about her consultancy business. I'd tried on
numerous items of clothing from mum's wardrobe until she found an
outfit that fit me properly. Most of her skirts and tailored dresses
were too baggy around my hips, and many if her blouses and jackets
were too narrow on my shoulders. After an entire afternoon of trying
this and that, Mum finally found me something suitable; a black
body-con skirt, a white sleeveless blouse and a black fitted jacket
with its shoulder pads removed.
Then on this very
morning, Mum took me to a salon where I had a (near) full body wax,
my hair trimmed and styled, a manicure, my eyebrows shaped and my
ears pierced... then she took me to a lingerie store bought me some
underwear. I think I'm still in shock. My earlobes are throbbing. My
'tackle' feels like it's being squashed out of existence in the vice
like grip of my control knickers. I've got chicken fillets in my bra
and have barely any body hair. I can even feel the light dusting of
powder on my face, the mascara on my eyelashes and the lipstick on my
lips. I don't think I could feel more feminine as I gently touched my
hairless thigh and cautiously felt my earlobe and its new adornment.
“Simon! I told you to
leave it.” my mother said.
“Sorry.” I said as
I whipped my hand way from my earlobe. I fumbled with my fingers as I
stood nervously in my underwear, wondering if my mother would see
sense and call the whole thing off or...
“Right... you need
your skirt and blouse on, maybe a necklace too.” she said, passing
me the blouse. “Do you want tights?” she asked as her eyes
dropped down to my legs. “They look nice enough as they are so you
don't need any tights.” she said as I buttoned myself in to
the white collared blouse.
I was happy enough to
skip a pair of tights, so I donned the black pencil skirt that Mum's
long outgrown yet fits me perfectly. The only issue with the skirt
was that its figure hugging style didn't account for my boyish bulge.
“Blouse in or out?” I asked.
“Well tuck it in and
see how it looks.” Mum said. I did as asked, fastened the zip and
looked down at myself. “Perfect.” Mum grinned, staring at my
groinal region. “No lumps.”
“These knickers are
so tight I can't even feel them.” I said as I ran my hands over my
hips. I knew I was exaggerating a bit as I can feel them and they
feel flat. I slipped my feet into the only item of my outfit that
feels familiar; a pair of Mum's court shoes that fit me like a
glove... or a shoe, even. Mum said I was a natural in heels and I
agree with her, although I'd much rather wear flat shoes... boy's
flat shoes to be specific. I spent much of the afternoon in the role
of Mum's PA; tending the printer, sorting invoices and making
coffee... plenty of coffee. Oh, and answering the phone. “Good
afternoon you're speaking to Janice. How can I help?” I say each
time in my soft 'female' voice. I guess I’d have been happier if is
they all said 'you're not called Janice... you're a bloke!'
but not a single one did. At least that would have given us a good
reason for me not to go through with this ever so important meeting.
As 3.00pm approached I
became increasingly nervous. I told her that I was getting cold feet
but she just grinned and offered me a pair of tights. “Simon you're
doing perfectly. You look the part, you act the part, you speak the
part...” she paused and inhaled. “...you even smell like a
woman.” she told me.
“Can't you just tell
them I couldn't make it?” I suggested. “Tell them I'm sick or a
family matter's come up.... anything.”
“After all we've
done?” Mum said. “Anyway, I'm sure they'd smell a rat if my PA
didn't attend.”
The meeting was as
4.00pm in some really posh restaurant. I topped up my lippy and
dropped the lipstick into 'my' handbag, before taking my first step
outside. And a very nervous step it was. “Now remember what I said
about getting in and out of a car.” Mum said as I opened the
passenger door. “Very good.” she grinned. I fastened my seat belt
as she reversed out of the drive. Mum talked me through what I should
say and shouldn't say. “Where possible, just redirect any awkward
questions to me... and don't but in, don't argue and don't answer
back... I'm your boss, not your mother.” she said. “And if you
need the toilet, make sure you take your handbag, and make sure you
use the ladies, and...”
“I know... make sure
I sit down.” I interjected. “I'll just make sure I don't need the
toilet.”
I can't describe how I
felt when I finally met Mum's clients. Crapping myself doesn't come
close to it. We got off to a bad start when they were certain that my
name was Janine and not Janice, then Mum made a real boo-boo when we
ordered the food and called me Janine. I was asked about my previous
experience and felt it would be safer to claim that this was my first
post as a PA. I'd supposedly worked for Mum for two years, spent a
year at secretarial school after I'd completed my A levels, but that
would put my age at twenty one and not twenty three as we'd claimed.
Mum and I bumbled our way through Janine or Janice's back story,
filling in the gaps on the fly. I suspected that they weren't really
buying it, and as the meal and the meeting came to a close, my
suspicions were proved correct. It was pointed out in plain English
that neither my mother nor I seem to know if my name's Janine or
Janice. Gaping holes and contradictions in my story were also pointed
out. “I don't know who you are, but what I do know is that you're
not who you claim to be.” the prestigious client said to me. She
turned to my mother and asked what was going on and Mum reluctantly
confessed. To make things worse, the client was sipping her wine when
my mother informed her that the supposed twenty-three year old
personal assistant is in fact her sixteen year old son, causing her
to splurt through her wine in a most unladylike manner.
“What!” the client
exclaimed as she wiped the splats of red wine from her face and
blouse with a napkin. “She's not even female?!”
I didn't know what to
do or say. Heads turned towards us from the surrounding tables. The
beans are spilt and that cat is well and truly out of the bag. I just
shrugged and smiled. I felt relieved that the farce is almost over
but also disappointed that it had gone so very wrong. The client
verbally ended all dealings with Mum and left. Mum had to pick up the
bill. She paid and we left with our tails between our legs and egg on
our faces. “Sorry Mum.” I said once we were outside.
“Oh it's not your
fault Love... it was a stupid idea and you certainly told me enough
times.” Mum replied. We walked to the car and Mum let out a string
of expletives. “Oh for fuck.... fucking.. bastard, fucking...”
she spat as she ripped a parking ticket off the windscreen. She got
in the driver's side and unlocked the passenger door. “Well there's
not much point staying in character now Simon.” she said as I got
in the car 'lady' style.
“This skirt's so
tight I can't do it any other way.” I said as I fastened my
seatbelt. Mum apologised and said she should have listened to me and
intermittently cursed herself for most of the drive home. She stopped
of at an off licence for a bottle of wine. “Drinking isn't going to
help.” I said when I noticed several bottles in the bag
“No... but after
loosing one of my biggest clients, it's going to make me feel
better.” she replied.
“Well... just get
another big client, or a few small ones.” I said. “And don't tell
them you've got a personal assistant when you haven't.”
“I know I know.”
Mum said.
We got home and Mum
offered me a 'spritzer'. “You deserve a drink after all you've been
through.” she said as she filled a glass with three-quarters soda
and one quarter wine. She poured herself a glass but with opposite
proportions., took a sizeable glug, then lit a cigarette.
“Mum... what are you
doing?” I asked. Mum never smokes inside the house.
Her expression
suggested that she didn't give a fuck but then she relaxed, opened
the back door and stepped outside. “Do you want one.” she asked,
pointing and erect cigarette in my direction. I gulped and shook my
head. “Well, you can if you want and I already know you smoke.”
she said.
I joined her outside
and reluctantly accepted the cigarette. Smoking in front of one's
mother never feels comfortable but I guess she needs to company and
the comradeship. “Thanks.” I said as she ignited her lighter. I
took a drag, removed it and exhaled. Then my hand froze when I
spotted the lipstick imprint around its filter. “I'd forgotten
about that.” I said.
“You were very
convincing.” Mum said. “The look on her face when I told her the
truth was priceless... she really didn't see that coming.”
“I just wanted to
floor to open up when she blurted 'she's not even female'.”
I said before taking another drag. “Still... it could have been
worse.”
“Could it?” Mum
asked.
“Well... at least she
didn't say 'that's not a woman' the moment she clapped eyes on
me.” I replied. “Or does that make it worse?” I wondered as I
looked down at myself; black patent court shoes, bare hairless legs
and a figure hugging black skirt that lands just above the knee.
“You can change if
you want.” Mum said.
“Yeah... in a bit.”
I said. I took another toke on my cigarette and looked out across the
back garden as I slowly exhaled. The wind was slight and a flock of
seagulls effortlessly hung over the estuary. “It's a nice evening.”
I said.
“It is.” Mum said.
“Shall we sit out for a bit?” she suggested. “It'd be a shame
to waste it indoors.”
“Yeah OK.” I said
after glancing up at the neighbours windows. They can't really see
the patio so I've nothing to worry about. Mum gave me her pack of
fags and the lighter and I sat myself on one of the garden chairs.
Mum soon joined me. “Thanks.” I said as she placed my 'spritzer'
in front of me and sat herself down. “So... was my name supposed to
be Janice or Janine?” I asked.
Mum growled a little.
“I've no idea.” she said. She groaned then sighed before inhaling
deeply on her cigarette. “Not that it really matters.” she
smiled.
“Maybe something like
'Simone' would have been a better choice of name.” I suggested.
“Well yes... but I'd
told her I had a PA called Janine or Janice months and months ago.”
Mum replied. “A better choice would have been to not to tell
porkies in the first place... but hindsight always comes too late.”
she said, looking at me and smiling, before apologising again.
“Let's not dwell on
it.” I said, taking a final drag of my cigarette before stubbing it
out. “What's done is done.” I added.
“Yeah.” Mum agreed,
clearly disheartened.
We sat and chatted
about everything but today's events as the evening sun cast its rays
over us. I'm due to start a college course in September and I
informed my mother that I plan on doing it part time over two years
instead of full time in one year. She thinks I should do the full
time course but, “I've just left school and I think I'd rather just
have a couple of years where it's not full on.” I explained.
“Well I suppose... in
a few years you'll have to work full time just to make ends meet.”
Mum said. “Don't you think you should study something a little more
vocational that Art & Design though?”
“I like art.” I
replied. “I know I probably wont become some rich or famous artist
or designer but... I fancy doing something I enjoy whilst I can.” I
told her. “Anyway there's loads of web design jobs going... after
A&D I might do a programming course or something.”
“The world is your
oyster.” Mum smiled. She sipped her drink. I sipped mine. She lit
another cigarette and placed the packet and lighter between us. “Help
yourself.” she said.
“Thanks.” I
replied, but didn't take one. Mum talked more optimistically about
moving her business forwards after loosing her biggest client. It
wasn't going to break the bank as she has plenty of other paying
clients, but she needs to pull her finger out and get the ball
rolling. Mum has a habit of saying things that don't really say
anything. She could sell ice to the Eskimos if she put her mind to
it, and talk the hind legs off a donkey. She asked if I wanted a top
up and I handed her my almost empty glass. Mum returned a moment
later and I asked if I could have another cigarette. “Help
yourself.” she said. “Do you smoke much?” she asked. She
advised me stop before I'm twenty, otherwise I'll be hooked for life.
It's good advice I guess, but not as good as don't smoke. The
conversation soon returned to the disastrous meeting. “Well,
today's certainly been an experience.”
“You can say that
again.” I said as I swiped a stray bit of ash from my forearm. “Do
you reckon it'll grow back?” I asked as my fingers lingered on its
smooth surface.
“Course it will.”
Mum said. “It always grows back.” she added. We sat in silence
for a while. The light breeze has almost completely dropped, just
like the sun. A
swirling hoard of starlings morphed with seemingly impossible
precision over the estuary and held our attention for a while. Then
Mum said, “You must think I'm an awful
mother...” she said after a few moments of quiet contemplation.
“...making you pose as a twenty something secretary just to cover
my back.”
“Er... personal
assistant if you don't mind.” I said, before grinning.
“Yes.” Mum laughed.
“You were a good one too... it's been nice having you in the [home]
office these last few days.” she added.
“It's been quite
interesting finding out what you actually do.” I replied. I took a
final drag of my cigarette before stubbing it out, then I sipped my
spritzer. “And it's been 'interesting' finding out what women go
through; waxing, hair, eyebrows, make-up.” I said.
“Shape wear.” Mum
added, glancing at my mid region. “How are they anyway?”
“OK.” I replied,
visualising them beneath my high waisted skirt. “I mean, they're
still tight but... I've kinda got used to them.”
“Well you have had
them on since lunchtime.” Mum smiled. She gulped and said she was
proud of me, before raising her glass. We clinked and stared towards
the golden
horizon, each of us presumably spending a moment to reflect on
the days events.
The starlings mesmerised us as they danced a whirling dervish in the
dusky orange sky. We sat in relative silence as the sun
slowly sunk below the bungalow roofs. We made small talk and enjoyed
the evening air and each other's company, even sharing 'twos' on
cigarettes. Up until today Mum's always been a 'mum', but all of a
sudden we're 'hanging' like friends 'hang'.
The orange glow ebbs
into shades of lilac, purple and deep dark blue. “The stars are
coming out.” Mum noted.
“It's still warm.”
“I was about to ask
if you're warm enough.”
“Yeah I'm fine.” I
smiled. “What time is it?” I asked.
Mum checked her phone.
“Almost nine.”
“Maybe I should put
something else on.” I said as I uncrossed my legs, sat myself up
and re-inserted my foot into the shoe that had been dangling from my
toes. I smoothed my skirt over my lap and straightened my blouse.
“Is there any point
at this hour?” Mum asked.
“Probably not but...
I've already dropped ash on your skirt twice.” I said. “I'm
worried I'll burn it.”
“You won't if you're
careful.” Mum said. “And just blow the ash off instead of wiping
it.” she suggested. I needed the loo so went indoors anyway. Mum
hollered something about handbags as I tottered through the kitchen
to the downstairs loo. On the way back I grabbed both handbags from
the kitchen table before going outside. “I wasn't sure if you said
yours or mine so I brought both.” I said, passing Mum hers.
“I said both.” Mum
replied as she took her handbag from me. “Since you're not getting
changed...” she said as she delved into her bag, “...you need to
re-apply.” she said as she routed out her lipstick. “And so do
I.” she added before swiftly painting her lips. I sat down and
coyly opened my handbag. I removed the lipstick and the small vanity
mirror and carefully painted mine before looking at my mother for
approval. She approved. “It's hard to believe you've never done
this before.”
“It's hard to believe
I'm doing it now.” I replied as I replaced the lid. “It's quite
nice in a way.” I added as I dropped the lippy back into the
handbag and clipped it shut.
“I'm glad you said
that.” mum replied. “I'd have felt doubly guilty if you'd hated
it.”
“You don't have to
feel guilty.” I said. Mum said she did and said why. “It was my
idea that you get someone to pretend to be your PA.” I reminded
her. “I just wasn't expecting it'd be me.”
“I'm glad it was.”
Mum grinned.
“Really?” I said as
I picked up my glass. “Didn't we just make a complete mess of that
meeting?”
“Well... yeah...
but...” Mum said as she picked up her wine and took a sip. “Don't
take this the wrong way but, it feels like we're having a
mother/daughter bonding experience.”
“Not a mother/son one
then?” I bashfully replied.
“Well, yeah, of
course.” Mum said. “I was thinking about...” she blushed.
“...it sounds silly now.”
“Go on.” I said.
“Well... little
things like...” she paused. “...your first bra...” she grinned.
“...and getting your ears pierced... stuff like that.”
I raised my finger to
my earlobe. “I'd forgotten about those too.” I said. I placed my
hand on my left chest and added, “But not this.” Mum grinned and
I smiled coyly back. I looked at the back of my hand, my outstretched
fingers and my pale pink nails. “Or these.”
“Would you do it
again?” Mum asked. I closed my hand and looked at her. The question
is ambiguous. “Not pose as my imaginary PA...” Mum added, “...but
dress up?”
“Er... I dunno... I
guess it depends.” I replied. I kicked out my leg and looked at the
shoe and my hairless shin. “I can't deny that it feels nice but...
I guess it's the sort of 'nice' that only women should enjoy.”
“I think nice feels
nice regardless of your gender.” Mum replied. “I don't think
women are somehow pre-programmed to like satin and lace and nice
frocks, and shoes of course... it's only because we get to try them
that we realise how nice it is.” she explained. “It seems a bit
unfair that boys don't even get to try them... well, mostly.” she
said, smiling sweetly at me. I smiled back and considered her words.
“One more drink and one more fag then we'll go in?” she
suggested.
“OK.” I replied.
“Are you still warm
enough?” she asked as she grabbed our empty glasses. “Do you want
some tights?”
I gauged the chill on
my legs. “Nah I'm OK.” I replied. “Can I put my jacket on
though?” I asked.
“Of course. I'll
fetch it.”
Mum went in and came
straight back with the fitted black jacket I'd worn for the meeting.
“Thanks.” I said as I took it from her. I stood up and put it on,
then looked down at myself. I know it sounds silly but I felt really
grown up. I should have been thinking 'yikes I'm wearing women's
clothes' but I didn't, well... not much anyway.
Mum appeared with a
glass in each hand. “You look like you're preparing to go for an
interview.” she grinned, passing me my spritzer. I took it,
bashfully smiled and sat. “So, Miss Jones... what interests you
about the role you've applied for?” Mum said in her official voice.
I played along.
“Meeting people, facing new challenges and...” I couldn't think,
so gave up trying.
“The dress code?”
my mother suggested as she cast her eyes over my fitted black pencil
skirt, slender hairless calves and high heeled court shoes.
I just grinned and took
a sip of my wine. I say wine, it's a spritzer, and a weak one at
that. “I was lying about meeting people.” I said. “I don't
think I'd live it down if any of my friends knew about this.”
“Well they needn't
know.” Mum replied. She picked up her fags and lit one. “You
know... you could work for me... part time.” she suggested. “I'd
pay you... and if you are going to go to college part time...” she
rambled.
“Would there be a
dress code?” I cautiously asked. My hand slid over my skirted lap
and my mother's eyes followed it.
“Only if you want
one.” she replied.
“Don't you need a
some new clients before you start taking on staff?” I asked. “We
have just lost one remember.”
“You see that's why I
think you'd be good.” Mum said. “You think of the practicalities.
Plus you can answer the phone, do the filing, scan and print... and
you tell me when I’m embarking on some stupid endeavour like
pretending I've got a personal assistant.”
“But you didn't
listen.” I smugly stated.
“Well next time, I
will.” she said. She sipped her wine, smiled at me and said that
it's at least something to think about. “You did say you might get
a little shop job or something, when you start college.” she added.
“A little office job might be right up your street.”
“Or just down the
stairs if its here.” I grinned. We soon finished our glasses and
went indoors.
Mum made us a cup of
tea and I slumped on arm chair in the sitting room. I removed my
heels and stretched my toes into the deep carpet. “You finally took
them off then.” mum said when she entered.
“I'm finally
indoors.” I smiled, wiggling my toes and arching my feet.
“You did well to keep
them on as long as you did.” Mum said as she sat. “Most women
kick them off at every opportunity.”
“Well I did take my
heels out and give my toes a wiggle every now and then.” I said.
“I noticed. Anyone
would think you'd been wearing them for years.”
I looked at the high
heeled court shoes I'd worn all day. “I guess they do look harder
to walk in than they actually are.” I said. “And I quite liked
being a bit taller.” I added.
“Ah so that's why you
kept them on.” Mum replied. I smiled and said I kept them on
because we've been outside all evening. “You should have said...
you could have worn these instead.” she said, kicking out a pair of
her flats from beneath the coffee table.
“Ah it's OK.” I
said. “I guess I felt 'in character' with my heels.” I explained
as I looked at the flat black ballerina style pumps. “But I guess
I'd have felt the same in those.” I added as I noticed the little
bow on the front and the shimmering satin fabric.
“Try them if you
want.” mum said, shoving them closer to me with a stockinged foot.
I slid my feet into
them and stood up. “These are comfy.” I said.
“That's why everyone
wears them.” Mum replied. “And they fit in a handbag.”
“Ah!” I said, “So
they wear heels to the office and these when they get there?” Mum
nodded. “And there was me thinking they wear heels all day long.”
“Well some do... if
they can stand them all day long... like you.”
“I think I prefer
these now.” I said as I admired the dainty little black slippers on
my feet.
“You'll have to get
some.” mum said. “Although I'll warn you... it's a slippery
slope... once you start buying shoes you'll never stop.”
I kept the little black
shoes on whilst we watched TV. I toyed with the idea of buying
some... imagined myself in the shoe shop and the looks on the
assistant's faces. Would they encourage or discourage, I wondered.
Would they be expensive, I mused. I took a sip of my tea and spent a
brief moment looking at the imprint of lipstick on the rim of my cup.
“You'd think they'd have managed to make it so it doesn't come
off... in this day and age.” I commented.
“Yes.” Mum agreed.
“Although I quite like it in a way.” she said. “It reminds me
what shade I'm wearing.”
“Yeah I s'pose.” I
replied. “Not that I've any idea what shade it is.” I said as I
observed the curious pink imprint on the rim of my cup.
“I'd call it
fuchsia.” Mum replied, “But it think it's actually 'candy coral'
or something.” she added, before asking if I liked it.
“I don't know.” I
replied.
Mum smiled at me. She
asked me if I had any plans for tomorrow and I told her that I
hadn't. “Well, if you fancy, you could help me in the office
again.” she suggested. “I've got to get my head down and find
some new clients sooner rather than later, and having you man the
phone would be great help.” she said. I chuckled through pursed
lips. “What?” Mum asked.
“Oh nothing.” I
said. “Just... 'man' the phone sounds a bit... ironic maybe.”
“You don't have to
dress that part if you'd rather not.” Mum replied. “Your old
school pants and shirt would do.” she said. “That's only if you
want to.”
“OK.” I replied.
“Was you serious about giving me working for you full-time before?”
Mum nodded. “Yes...
although it was only part-time... to fit around your college course.”
she reminded me. “Are you considering it?”
“Hmm... I am... but
I'll sleep on it if that's OK.” I replied. Although the white wine
spritzers I'd been given were mostly soda water, the little alcohol
I'd drunk had gone to my head a little. The mere mention if sleep
made me feel sleepy, so I decided to take myself off to bed. “Any
special instruction for getting this off?” I asked, gesturing in
the general direction of my face.
“There's some make-up
wipes on the bathroom windowsill.” Mum replied. “Just plenty of
those and plenty of soap and water.” she said. “...and then you'd
best moisturise.” she added. “There's some E45 cream in the
cabinet.”
“It's a good job I
asked.” I smiled. “See you in the morning.”
“Yeah night night
Love... and thanks for today... you've been a real trooper.”
I looked down at
myself; a white blouse over a pink bra, a black skirt over pink
and... “Oh I’d better give you these back.” I said, realising
that I still had her little black ballet pumps on. I kicked hem off
and put back beneath the coffee table.
“Thanks Love.” Mum
grinned.
I had a long hard look
at myself in the bathroom mirror before I began removing the make-up
I'd worn for much of the day. “Make-up's weird.” I thought as I
over analysed it. Even I know it's not 'heavy', but even a touch of
eye liner and eye shadow has a drastic affect. Using one of the
make-up wipes, I cleaned one eye completely before comparing them. I
grinned as now it just looks completely odd, like one eye is bigger
or deeper than the other. I clean the other before removing my
lipstick. Then I lather and rinse a number of times until I'm
satisfied that I'm back to my old self again... almost. I recalled
what the lady in the salon told me to do every night, and soaked a
cotton bud in warm water before gently cleaning my earlobes and the
'sleeper' earrings that adorn them. Initially the idea was that I
just take them out and let them heal but... I can do that in a few
days if I don't like having them.
I went to my room and
undressed. I'd become more than accustomed to wearing a skirt and
blouse today, but I'm certainly not accustomed to wearing only my
underwear. I struggle to remove the bra properly and end up pulling
my arms out of the straps, dropping and twisting it and unfastening
it as I would a belt. Finally I peeled off the restrictive control
knickers. Like my bra, they'd left a vivid imprint in my skin, but it
was my skin itself that held my attention. Apart from a small patch
down there, it's completely smooth and entirely hairless. Sliding
into bed is an understatement. I yawned and stretched and relished
the fact that I was finally horizontal and finally naked... and being
mostly hairless, I feel more naked now than I can ever remember.
I considered Mum's
part-time job offer and was in two minds about it. One of my reasons
for wanting a part-time job when I’m at college is so I could meet
people from outside of the student scene. There's not much chance of
that in my mother's home office... although it's probably a better
job than stacking shelves or whatever else I could get. I drift off
to sleep trying to weigh up the pros and cons, but mostly I'm
enjoying my new hair-free body... it's so silky and smooth and
ZZZZzzzz.
P J ... I'm new to your site ... I've just read this story and was enthralled .. wonderful. I'm gonna make my way through your other stories now. Thank you for posting.
ReplyDeleteSteffie x
I liked your story and guess that this would be the beginning of a life in skirts for Simon.
ReplyDeleteAlso I hope you keep your writing going
loved the story , keep writing more
ReplyDeleteLoved your story, very clever writing.
ReplyDeleteawesomely done again love all your stories
ReplyDeletewas just wondering if u have anything new coming up?
ReplyDeletegot a few in the pipeline. hope to get one finished before long... but finishing is the hard part.
DeleteCool, can't wait to see what else you come up with.
DeleteHi PJ ,
ReplyDeleteI have just finished you delicious story and loved it from start to finish . thank you for posting .
Hi
ReplyDeletethats such a lovely story
Susie x
I am an older fan of "forced fem" and "Femdom" stories. Your story is so very well written! Mentally, I can imagine that these two people are actually in front of me. A mum and her transvested son. The plot is unique and entertaining. Thanks for posting such a wonderful story!!
ReplyDeleteLovely story, with a theme a little different from the majority of your stories.
ReplyDeleteIt was a so nice to follow the mother-son/daughter talk on the porch, I think Janine has caused the relation between Simon and his mother to become much closer.