My Dream Solution Ch. 01

They had me put on pink lacy panties and a matching bra. Then Starla, I think her name was, brought out a tray of breast forms in different sizes. She carefully placed one set in my bra, had me turn and pose in different positions, tried several other sizes and shapes, and then settled back on the first pair she had selected.

Then we went through most of the outfits Alex and I had purchased, seeing how I looked in each of them. To me, my image in the mirror was a confused and confusing one. If I looked just at the span from my neckline to my hemline, I looked like a woman with good, in fact great, figure. But a glimpse of my face, or my hairy legs belied that image.

The girls and Alex appeared to be able to focus only the relevant parts of my body, ignoring the tell-tale traces of masculinity. On their suggestion, I sorted the clothes into those that would work and those I'd take back. When they were finished reviewing all of my clothing choices, they had me get back in the outfit they seemed to like best: a short, tight blue skirt and a lighter blue satin blouse.

Both the girls left for a moment leaving Alex and me alone. "You're going to look great, Ron," Alex said encouragingly. "Or I guess I should say, Ronda." I smiled. "If you're a good student—if you pay attention to what I teach you—you're going to pull this off."

Starla, and the other clerk, Becky, returned with a cart filled with shoe boxes and bigger boxes. I didn't know what the bigger boxes contained until Becky opened one and pulled out a wig. They tried half a dozen wigs on me, maybe more.

"This is really crucial," Becky said. "You can increase your femininity by going with bigger, more stylized hair, but if it's too garish, you won't be convincing. We need to find one that will soften your facial features but look natural. This isn't the time to go for platinum blonde or wild redheaded curls."

They settled on a wig that was light brown, with lighter highlights, and gentle curls that came down about three inches below my shoulders. I couldn't really appraise it with my obviously masculine face centered between the feminine locks. Alex, Becky, and Starla, though, were very pleased with the look.

"You need to get your shoes here. You can find shoes large enough to fit you in a regular shoe store, but you won't find stylish ones. Women with feet as large as yours, don't wear stylish shoes. You need to."

Then we went through about 20 pairs of shoes. I had to stand up and walk—well, try to walk—in each pair. Shit, I thought, this is hard. I started to have doubts about whether I'd be able to learn to walk with confidence, let alone in a feminine way, in these heels. Alex assured me that I'd get the hang of it. All they wanted to see now was whether the shoes looked good on me and how the heel height made my legs and ass look.

We finished with the shoes, selecting ten pair to purchase. I was trying to keep a rough tally of the costs. This wasn't going to be a cheap trip but, I figured, whatever it took. The financial cost was a very small factor in this plan. Oh well, "in for a penny, in for a pound," I thought to myself. Besides, Todd would be making enough more money in his new position that we could afford to have two wardrobes for me.

I gave Alex my credit card and he and the girls went out to tally up the damage while I changed back into my regular clothes. I got to the counter just as they were finishing up—just in time to sign the credit card charge slip—and I saw Alex putting some boxes I didn't recognize into the bag.

"What's that?" I asked innocently.

"Oh, nothing. I'll show you later."

I was curious and pressed once, but Alex put me off, telling me he really had to show me and I shouldn't worry about it.

On the way home, we hit the drug store where Alex picked out, in very quick order, nail polish, false eye-lashes, and an array of make-up that was truly impressive. I guess I'd never realized how much stuff women used. Though, as Alex explained later, real girls could get away with less; I needed to use every trick in the book to feminize myself. So, we left the drug store with two large bags of every type of feminine beauty product known to man and a bunch of the everyday stockings and pantyhose that were much cheaper here than at Victoria's Secret.

It was late afternoon by the time we got back to my place. I was ready to call it a day. I had some work to do on a project that was due tomorrow night and I felt that I'd had enough of the pursuit of my dream solution for one day.

But Alex hadn't. He said he was busy tomorrow and wouldn't be able to help me so we needed to get more done today. Todd was going to be working late today—he wouldn't be home until about 8:00—so it seemed like a good opportunity to learn what I could from Alex. I decided to try to rally for more work on the plan.

Alex gave me my assignment: put away my new clothes and shower, washing completely with a strong soap, then report back to him with just my towel on.

It was weird putting away all of the women's clothing—my women's clothing. I made room in the closet and my drawers and carefully put away all of the clothes. The strangest part was folding and putting away the bras, panties, and other lingerie. At the moments where it really struck me that these were *my* bras and *my* panties I felt a wave of uncertainty and nervousness. I wasn't at all certain that I could do this. But I'd come this far and it would have been really stupid to stop now. Besides, I couldn't figure out how Todd and I would live comfortably in Arkansas any other way, so I had to make this work.

I took my shower, dried off and walked out to the kitchen with the towel wrapped around me. Alex was busy cooking something apparently. And the dining room table was covered, not with a table cloth, but with a sheet. I had no idea what Alex was up to, but I was soon to find out.

When he looked up, he said, "Wrong way to wear the towel." I looked baffled for a second, I guess, and he went on. "Well, I guess it's okay for now, but that's another thing you'll need to learn to go two ways on, depending on whether you're Ron or Ronda."

He touched the pan that was cooling on the stove and said, "Alright ... a little warm, but it will be alright."

"What's that? What are you doing?"

"I told you we'd have to take care of that body hair. That's what we're doing."

"I've got a razor in the bathroom. What's all this for?"

"A razor! Oh, boy! You don't know the first thing about being a girl, do you?" Alex stirred the pan gently and continued. "That's okay, though. Ignorance is correctable. That's why you have me. So, here's your first lesson. You'll have stubbles in a day if you just shave; you need to get the hairs out by the root if you want it to last for a while."

"Okay, but what's that stuff you're cooking?"

"Sugar paste, Sugar." I guess Alex was trying to be cute. But I'd never heard of sugar paste so I was more interested in what it was than his cute little play with words.

"It's better than waxing—less pain and faster. Hard to find someone good at doing it, but this is your lucky day. I'm an expert." Alex picked up the pan and nodded toward the table. "Get up on the table and lie down. Stomach or back, it doesn't matter; we're going to need to do both sides."

So I got my first sugaring treatment, which was also my first depilatory treatment of any kind if you don't count shaving my beard every morning. It didn't hurt too much on my legs and arms, where Alex started. It hurt more when I did my underarms. When we started to slather the sugar paste on my groin area, I stopped him.

"Hey, I'm not planning to pose in a bikini. I just need to pass in ordinary clothes. You don't need to do anything down there." And I moved to get off the table.

"Oh, no you don't," Alex said with surprising authority. "This is part of your training." I looked skeptical. "No, I'm serious, Ron. If you want to act like a woman, you've got to feel like a woman. Why do you think we picked out all those panties?"

He had me there. I hadn't thought of that when we were shopping. Once it occurred to me, I was at a loss to explain why I hadn't said that I didn't need panties. It wasn't as if I was going to pose in my lingerie, either.

"Here's why. You're not going to act like a woman—not in any way that will convince people—if, under your dress or skirt, you're wearing your Jockey briefs or boxers. It just won't work. And the same goes for your crotch hair. Sure, women have hairy crotches, but if you pull on your lacy pink panties over a hairy crotch, I can assure you, you won't feel feminine."

"I don't know."

"Trust me," Alex said. "Or not ... and I'll just go home now."

I relented and found out that there were places where tearing hair out by the roots hurts even more than in your underarms. If Alex had wanted to check out my equipment earlier, he was sure able to satisfy his desire now. He had his hands all over my cock and balls as he worked to denude my groin. When Alex was finished, except for the hair on my head, I was as naked as a newborn.

Alex ran his hands over me, inspecting his work, I guess. But then his touching changed to something different. He had pushed my cock over to the side and was massaging my balls.

"Stop it, Alex," I said, hoping he was just teasing and not making a serious seduction attempt. If it was a seduction attempt, it was a weird one. He was just pressing his fingers against one of my balls and pressing it gently, but with increasing pressure, against my pelvis.

"Take it easy. You need to relax."

"No. What are you doing?"

"I'm going to show you how to hide your equipment. And don't give me this, 'I'm not going to be a bikini model' crap. This isn't just about feeling like a girl. This is about looking like one. Some of your outfits will work without you tucking, but not all of them. Some of those dresses and skirts, and all of your pants and shorts, will show a definite bulge if you don't tuck. So you have to learn how to tuck. And I'm going to teach you. It won't hurt, though you may feel a little discomfort until you get used to the feeling."

I relaxed a little, convinced at least that this was a legitimate part of my makeover and not some crude attempt to initiate sex—something that I was definitely not interested in right now. Alex continued to gently massage one of my balls, putting and more pressure on it as he pushed it up into my abdomen.

Now, I'd had my balls retract before. Sometimes when I was swimming in really cold water, I'd take off my swimsuit to find that I had no visible balls; they'd retreated for shelter and warmth. I hadn't even felt them retract. But this was different. Alex was forcing the issue and, there was, indeed, "a little discomfort." Sometimes when doctors and dentists use that phrase, it's a gross euphemism. What they really mean is, "this is going to hurt like hell, but I'm not going to tell you that in advance." But this wasn't really painful, just a little uncomfortable at first.

When both balls were neatly tucked in my abdomen, Alex turned to get something. I saw him take something out of one of the boxes I hadn't recognized at the shop. He unwrapped an item that looked like a very large, flesh-colored Band-Aid, shaped strangely.

"This is called a 'gaff'," Alex explained. "There are lots of kinds and you can just use tape—medical tape, not scotch tape, which won't hold, or duct tape, which will hold all too well. But I like these because unlike undergarment-style gaffs, these are completely invisible under your panties, and they're easier to use than tape."

Alex exposed the adhesive on part of the gaff and wrapped it around my cock. He had me rock back and lift and spread my legs, exposing my ass to him. I could tell that the gaff had adhered well to my cock when I felt Alex draw it back tightly between my legs. He exposed the adhesive on the rest of the gaff and taped it to the insides of both my cheeks.

I realized that this gaff was designed so that it didn't cover the end of my cock and, while it was stuck to both sides of the insides of my buttocks, it was split and didn't cover my asshole either. This allowed, I realized, normal bodily functions. Then it occurred to me that eliminating bodily waste wasn't the only normal bodily functions that this gaff was designed not to interfere with. That wasn't going to matter in my case, though. I wasn't going to be dressed like this when Todd and I were together alone. I could see, though, why some crossdressers and transvestites would want the gaff designed to allow for backdoor sex.

"There! Now get up and let's see how this looks." I started to get up and winced because I felt "some discomfort" in my groin. "Take it easy," Alex cautioned. "It will take some getting used to, but soon you'll be able to move without even noticing that you're tucked."

We walked to the bedroom with me completely naked and feeling rather odd in the crotch. When we got to the full-length mirror in the bedroom, I was stunned. If you looked just at my groin, ignoring the fact that I didn't have much of a waist, had no breasts, and had a face that didn't look very feminine, I looked like a woman. Pulling back my cock tightly the way Alex had between my retracted balls, even gave me a pronounced camel toe.

"Wow!" I said unselfconsciously. "That's amazing!"

"Pretty good, huh?" Alex complimented himself on his work.

"I'll say."

"Now let's see what we can do with clothes and make-up." Alex sat on the bed. "I want you to pick out your clothes, everything, panties, bra, corset, ... everything. You have to get used to doing this. And I want you to start thinking like a girl."

"What do you mean?"

"All your life, when you were picking your clothes to wear, what sort of internal dialog was running in your head?"

"I don't know. I didn't think much about it." I paused. "Sometimes I was thinking, 'Can I wear this another day, or does it smell too bad already.'"

"Yeah, well, girls might think that sometimes," Alex laughed. "But they also think things like, 'This is pretty,' This is soooo cute,'and 'This is Wow, I'll look really sexy in this.' Guys are not only not inclined to think that way, they're conditioned not to. You need to overcome that conditioning."

Alex went on, unconsciously slipping into lecture mode. "Look, Ron, I know that you and Todd aren't into being feminine. I get that. But if you're going to pull this off, you need to do that. Think of it as method acting: you've got to *be* a woman to act like a woman. I want you to turn off your internal censor that tells you not to think things like, 'This is soooo cute,' and 'I'll look great in this.' Embrace those thought. At first, you'll probably have to force them. You know: fake it until you feel it."

So I tried. I felt silly, though. Going through what I'd turned into my lingerie drawer, I picked the lavender panties with the matching bra. It seemed ridiculous to think to myself, "These are pretty; I'm going to love slipping these on my smooth, sexy body." But I did it.

I guess you can get used to just about anything. The beige corset I picked out would make my waist so slender and sexy, I thought to myself. The tight black pencil skirt would show off my well-formed ass and my terrific thighs. The purple silk blouse could be unbuttoned enough to be suggestive but still modest—a very attractive look, kind of sexy librarian style. I picked out black thigh-high stockings, not pantyhose, thinking how sexy they would look over my slender calves and thighs.

When I walked to the closet again to pick my shoes—black three-inch pumps with an open toe—Alex clapped.

"What?" I said. "Did I pick well?"

"No ... well, yes, you did. But that's not what I was clapping about."

"Then what?"

"Didn't you notice?"

"Notice what?" I was genuinely baffled and didn't appreciate Alex dragging this out.

"How you walked."

"What about how I walked?"

"I can't believe you didn't notice it. When you walked back over to the closet, your hips were swaying. When you bent down to pick up the shoes, you bent down like a woman. You picked up your shoes like a woman would." Alex was excited. "I'm not saying you don't need lessons. There are a thousand things to learn about how women move, how they sit, how they talk, how they look at people—a thousand things you've never thought about that you'll need to learn to do differently. But you've definitely got an inner girl. You'll learn."

I hadn't noticed any difference in how I walked to the closet. But now, thinking back on it, I had a kind of bodily memory of how I'd moved and I thought that Alex might be right.

"Now let's see you put on your bra and panties and stockings. I'll help you with your corset and then we'll see what we can do with make-up." Alex turned toward the desk in the corner of the room—which he was obviously planning to highjack for a dressing table—and then stopped and turned to me. "And remember, everything you do, you do as a woman. Putting on your panties and things isn't just a task to be completed. Be mindful of what you're doing. You're dressing to be a sexy, desirable woman."

I tried to comply. I pulled my panties up over my smooth thighs and, I realized that this could be a very sensuous experience. Looking down at myself, and in the mirror, I was astonished at how perfectly the panties fit now. Not at all like in the dressing rooms where I'd worn them before. Turning to the side, I saw that I had no manly bulge. I wasn't planning to be an underwear model, but I could be if I wanted to.

I knew to put my bra on backwards and then turn it around. The bra was very sexy, and I liked the way it looked, except for the emptiness of the cups—something I knew was soon to be rectified.

Pulling up my stockings was especially sensuous. It required effectively caressing my legs, which were incredibly sensitive in their hairless state. I felt my cock strain against its restraint.

"Nice!" Alex said. "Now come over here and sit down." He'd arrayed the equipment for my facial makeover on the desk. First, though, he got the breast forms out and positioned them in my bra. When he was happy with the way they sat there, he took them out individually and slathered adhesive on the backs, carefully repositioned them, and pressed them to my chest.

The entire evening had been, by definition, transformative. But there were moments that were especially salient. Looking, for the first time, at my crotch with my cock and balls tucked was one of those moments. And feeling the weight of the breasts on my chest, looking down and seeing them fill my bra, this was another such moment. It was like a new threshold of femininity was crossed.

There was no mirror by the desk so I couldn't see that Alex was doing. He set about his work, though, with enthusiasm and obvious expertise. He started with my fingernails. "We should have done your toe nails, but that can wait for another time." False eye-lashes, eye-liner, mascara, various creams and powders, lip pencil, lipstick, the whole nine yards.

"Just one more bit of make-up," Alex said, turning me toward him. He used one of the make-up brushes to create the illusion of cleavage on my chest, above my bra. Even from the perspective I had on it, this was rather amazing. I couldn't wait to see myself in the mirror. I was sure that it would look as if the gentle swell of my breasts began above my bra.

Alex wouldn't let me get up yet, though. We had a couple more things to do before I could see myself. Alex went over to the dresser to get my wig and some of the jewelry we got at the mall. On the way back, he picked up my shoes to bring them to me.

"We should have gotten your other ear pierced when we were at the mall today. I thought about that when we picked out your jewelry but it slipped my mind. We'll make do with one earring for now."