Archive-name: Changes/nitynite.txt Archive-author: Archive-title: Nity Nite "Reeeyullly, Jack," she said, drawing out the "really" like the Valley Girl that still lived inside her slender but reeyullythirtysomething body, "You can't stay for the lingerie party. Go bowling with the boys or something...Naughty Nightie parties are for girls only." "C'mon," I protested, "I've been working every night this week, and I really wanted to just spend an evening relaxing at home...reeyully." "Really, Jack,"she said, easing off on the Valley intonation now.."How could you relax with a bunch of giggling, tittering women in the next room, even if you could stay here?" "Tittering? Now that does sound interesting" I teased. "Isn't that at least half, or more precisely, two-thirds of what naughty nighties are all about? And what makes you think I'd want to stay in the next room watching the tube, when I could join the tittering, watching the boobs?" "Bad puns will get you nowhere," she said, and countered with what she was sure was a one-hundred percent airtight put-off: "The only way you're going to stay for this party is if you're decked out like the Queen Mary." I paused as if I reeyully had to think this one over, looked stage left and stage right as if seeking counsel from two invisible advisors, and then let it go: "Okay..You're on," I said, waiting for the reaction. Whenever I think I've tricked Carol into conceding an argument by agreeing to something I'm sure she never thought I'd agree to, it always turns out that SHE's set ME up. I could tell by the look in her eye that she'd done it again. "Gotcha!" she popped, revealing that she'd planned it this way from the start. "HumnaHumnaHumna," I muttered, slapping my forehead and rolling my eyes skyward like Ralph Cramden and "the Meathead" combined. "Cut the bad impressions," said Carol. "The real sitcom is about to begin. Haul your buns out of that chair, go and shave really close, and get into the shower. You've got to get ready to get 'into character' for the show...and don't forget to shave those hairy legs." "B-b-b-b-but!" I pretended to protest, as she pushed me toward the bathroom. "And I'll be there in a while to help you shave whatever else needs shaving, unless you're smart enough to figure out what that might be." Feigning reluctance, I shuffled off to the shower. Not being a total dummy, after shaving my face and neck, AND my legs, I shaved down my chest a bit, so that no chest hairs would show in an ordinary neckline. "Not nearly enough," said Carol, stepping into the shower with me. "Armpits, guy...we girls don't walk around with those grotty clumps of hair under our arms...here, I'll do it," she said, taking the razor from me. I thought it would be tricky shaving my armpits, but in no time at all those "grotty clumps" were gone...and all the rest of my chest hair, too. "Let's see how you did with those legs," she said, letting her soapy breasts brush against my now-erect cock as she crouched down in front of me and wrapped her arms around me. "Wait a minute, you're shaving my buns," I complained. "Who's going to see THEM?" "Don't complain," she said. "How can you get 'in character' if you don't feel entirely feminine? And we can't have this thing sticking out once you're 'in character'," she observed, looking my erect cock in the eye. "We'll have to take measures to keep this down for a while...at least until you're in costume," she said, wrapping her lips around its head, making it MUCH bigger, before it got much smaller. How could I complain? I don't know how she did it, but while I was in the paroxysms of ecstacy, she'd managed to trim my bush so that it looked just like hers...well, almost. Talk about sneaky feminine wiles. Me and my now-hairless balls would have to show her a thing or two...or had she ALREADY seen a thing or two? Oh well, I'll get her later, I thought. A quick blast of cold water suddenly hit me, making my depleted cock and balls shrink still further. "Here, dry off," she said, handing me a towel. "You've got to be dry before we can moisturize." "Huh?" I responded to that bit of feminine illogic, as she rubbed me down with whatever fragrant stuff it was that made her even tastier. Not so oddly, I was looking forward to being just as tasty as she was. And getting into the mood of things, I took the bottle of moisturizer and started rubbing the fragrant liquid on her breasts, saying "Yes deah, we rahlly must moisturize, mustn't we?" "Later for that," she said, leading me into the bedroom by my handle, which was now barely large enough to get a grip on. "Easy on that," I complained, "I may need this thing again." "You will," she agreed, "but much later in the evening. Until then we've got to keep it as invisible as possible." "Let me see now..." she said as she went rummaging through one of those dresser drawers filled with indescribables. "This should do it!" she said as she retrieved a pair of those little skin-colored adhesive half-bra cups that are made for the ultimate plunging neckline. Seeing that I was obviously puzzled, Carol explained, "Not for your boobs, dummy! Spread your legs a bit." She applied extra spirit gum to the bra cups, and then stuck the two of them together along their top edges. Glued together like that, they bore an amazing resemblance to a shaved pussy. "Looks like a pussy," I observed brightly. "Up yours," she countered, pushing my balls up out of sight with my cock pulled back over them. In the middle of my amazement over how easily it could all be tucked away, she capped my diminished essentials with the glued-together pair of bra cups. It was, in a manner of speaking, a master stroke. It stuck fast and held neatly. Looking down at myself, it looked to ME like I'd suddenly become female. Carol held a hand-mirror so that I could have a better look, like a hairdresser showing me my new "do". "With a little makeup, it'll be perfect!" she said. I couldn't believe it: I was about to get my crotch made up. What a make-over! I was really getting into this, as she glued a pair of reeyully convincing breasts to my chest. "Where did you get these?" I asked, "They can't be yours...you've never needed them." "They were. I was late to develop, and really self-conscious about it. But I don't need them anymore, and they're yours now." Except for the very edges, they looked like the genuine article(s). They bounced nicely (I couldn't resist jiggling "my" tits), they matched my skin color, and they had such nice rosy nipples. I couldn't resist pinching them...I almost felt the squeeze! "Don't worry about the edges," she said, "A little Dermablend will cover that nicely." And it did. They really looked real, reeyully! My very own boobs! "On the bed, on your back, knees up" Carol directed. "What is this, a gynecological exam?" I clowned. "When I'm done, you may be able to pass one," she said, applying more Dermablend and makeup color to my "pussy". "How's this?" she asked, holding the hand mirror so I could see the finished work. "Incredible!" I said, "It looks good enough to eat!" "I was thinking the same thing," she said, "but layyyyyter." " Now it's time to pick out your wardrobe," she said, turning to the dresser filled with all those delectable little underthings. "Since you're a new woman, I think we'll go with with virginal white, although you may not qualify by the time the evening's up," she said, handing me a pair of lacey white nylon bikini panties. "Here, step into these. Don't worry about the makeup smearing...it's waterproof, hypoallergenic, AND it has a great fragrance, too." "But how does it taste?" I wisecracked as I pulled the panties up my smooth legs. I loved the feel of the cool white nylon sliding over my equally smooth buns. I could see why women liked wearing these things, and I began to consider the possibility of wearing them all the time, not just tonight. I even liked the lace trim around the leg openings and the ruffled stretch lace waistband...and the little pink bows at the hips, too. Being feminine is really nice, I decided...reeyully. "We have a bra to match," she said, as she threaded my arms through the straps of an absolutely stunning little front-hook push-up number whose half-cups were topped by wispy lace that barely concealed "my" nipples. I had been so enthralled putting on my panties that I hadn't noticed that Carol had already put on panties and bra that matched the ones I was wearing. I couldn't resist comparing notes: "My boobs are just as nice as yours," I said, "but don't you think you should show a little less nipple? We're beginning to look like sisters, and I'm beginning to feel a bit protective." "Your the one that's going to need to be protected," she said, "and remember, there are only going to be girls at the naughty nightie party, so be a good girl. You haven't met Laura, the woman who sells the lingerie, but some of the girls you've met from my office will be here, so you've reeyully got to make sure they don't recognize you. 'Jack' is out bowling tonight, and you're his twin sister Jackie, who's visiting us from down South...got that?" "Got it," I said, as she fastened a white lace garter belt around my waist - it was a great match for the panties and bra I was wearing. "Let's stick with a neutral beige for the nylons," she said, "Here, watch how I put them on so that you won't snag them...and keep those seams straight." I watched carefully, especially since this was something I always enjoyed watching. Even though I'd never done it before, I knew EXACTLY how to put them on...I just hadn't imagined how great it would feel to have my legs hugged by those long silky stockings. It was a delight that they were long enough to completely cover my thighs. Carol adjusted the straps on my garter belt so that they'd stay up snugly. What a wonderful feeling it was, especially to be able to slide one smooth leg against the other! How do women get through a day without getting excited about how feminine they are? Carol could tell what I was thinking from the dreamy look in my eyes: "I know how wonderful it feels," she said, "and I always wanted you to be able to share it with me. I just KNEW you'd love it!" "What can I say," I sang, "I enjoyyy...be-ing a girl!" "Good," said Carol, "but we'll have to work on your voice. Remember that little Southern twang that Dustin Hoffman used for 'Tootsie'? That will probably be easy for you to do, and more convincing than anything else we can manage in just a couple of hours. Try to practice speaking that way while we finish dressing." "Sho 'nuff, honey," I mimicked. "Careful now," Carol said, "you may wind up sounding more like Flip Wilson's 'Geraldine', and we don't want to offend any of the black girls who are going to be at the party." "You wouldn't have a Tina Turner wig for me, would you?" I asked, only half kidding. I've always thought that Tina Turner is one great lady, and I was beginning to feel jealous of her legs. "Not exactly, but it will be bouffant though...after all, Jackie, y'all are from the South where big hair is still big. Actually, it's one of my wigs from the Seventies...and I think that a nice bright stretch Lycra minidress would be just the thing to go with it...also one of my relics from the Seventies!" I remembered her in that dress from when we were first dating, and dropping into my best "Tootsie", I drawled, "Would thayut be the shahny rayud dress, honey?...Ayyund was thayut a weeyug y'all was wearin'?...Ah thawt Ah took awf evathin' y'all was wearin' thayut naht." "Evathin' but thayut," Carol replied, picking up the drawl, "Thayut weeyugg held on REAL good!" "A-mazin'," I said, "Ah nevah woulda thawt it!" Sure enough, she produced that dress out of a garment bag in the walk-in closet. I thought it had long ago made the trip to the Goodwill box, but it still looked like new. I was really glad to see it again. "I became a woman with that dress, Jackie," said Carol, "and so will you. Put on this little half-slip, and then slip into the dress so that we can do your makeup." I hate to admit that although my fanny's cute and nicely rounded from going to Jazzercize classes with Carol, my hips aren't nearly as well- rounded as hers, despite all those leg lifts. To think that I used to worry that those exercises were making me shaped like a woman! But the stretchy red dress did show off my buns nicely, and I just loved that lacy little half-slip tickling my legs. Carol picked out a pair of red patent leather shoes with 2-1/2" heels to go with the dress. "Try these," she said, "I'd love to give you higher heels, but you shouldn't be too much taller than me, and 4" heels are the tallest I've got for myself. If your shoes are too tight we'll use a little shoe stretch on them." Although the nylons made it easy to slide into the shoes, they were a bit tight, so Carol wet them with a bit of the shoe stretch solution, and I could feel the shoes become more comfortable in just a few seconds. "Walk around in them while I select makeup for you," said Carol, "it will help them stretch enough. We don't want your feet to spoil the evening for you." If they'd been higher heels, I might have had difficulty, but this was EASY. I pranced around, wiggling my little ass for all it was worth. This was really FUN. Carol broke into a broad grin: "You're going to LOVE this night, I can see that. But as good as you look, you still need makeup, the wig, and some jewelry." I'd never sat at Carol's makeup mirror before, but it all seemed completely natural now. The last traces of masculinity vanished under a subtle cover of Dermablend with just the right accents of blush and shadow. I blushed...my true femininity was being revealed. "Remember those green-tinted contact lenses you bought as a joke?" said Carol, "I'll bet they'd look perfect now." I had to agree, and tottered off to get them. I'd only kept them as a spare pair, but when I put them on and looked in the mirror, I was amazed...I was one sultry broad! "Ready for the eyeshadow!" I called out. "Eyelashes first," said Carol, "You Southern girls like lots of eyelash." "Just don't overdo it," I said, sitting back down in front of the mirror. "I don't want to look like a hooker. Jack would be embarrassed if his sister looked tacky." "Don't worry, Jackie dear," said Carol, "I'll get it just right." And sure enough she did - just the right emphasis on the eyelashes, just the right amount of mascara, just the right tint of green and silver eyeshadow - the woman was truly an artist. I was jealous!...but I would learn. False fingernails were next, and I was equally amazed by how easily they went on, and how with the right silvery red polish, they became MINE, like I'd been taking care of them for months. Carol then returned to my face, finishing her work with a luminous pale red lip gloss, and lowered the bouffant auburn wig over my head. God, I was lovely! "Is it possible that I have the hots for myself?" I asked Carol. "Could be," she said. "I know I do!...but later for that - we still still have your debut ahead of us," she said as she spiked my earlobes and put in a pair of glittery pendant earrings. "Ouch....and ouch!" I complained. "Don't worry", Carol said, they're all sterilized, and you'll forget the sting in about a minute. And if you don't want to keep them, the holes will heal up overnite if we don't put studs in to keep them open. "Don't want to keep them?" I said. "I think they're great." "Okay, finishing touch," said Carol. "How's this necklace?" she asked, looping a long dangly creation around my neck and clasping it behind. "I love it! It's perfect!" I said. "Okay," she said, "Just remember to keep it from falling into your cleavage...that never looks good." Cleavage! I'd been so involved with the way my face was evolving, I hadn't even realized that I had a nicely exposed decolletage. Wow! They were lovely - they looked so REAL. I couldn't resist cupping them in my hands. "You're getting preocupied with yourself," Carol cautioned. It wasn't until then that I realized that while tending to me, she'd also managed to get herself completely dressed, in an electric-blue dress similar to the one I was wearing. It was easy for her, of course, but she was stunning! Were we ever an eye-popping pair of dolls! "Woman's work is never done," Carol admonished. "You've got to help me get the place ready...Laura will be here any moment, and the girls will start arriving soon. Moving some furniture in heels should be good practice." I'd always ducked these party preparations before, but this time I really pitched in. I was eagerly anticipating the evening to come, and I wanted everything to be just right. We knew that there would be a model to show how the lingerie looked on (I was certainly looking forward to THAT), so we removed the coffee table from the living room and replaced it with a low carpeted platform that we usually used for sit-ups and other exercises - it would be perfect as a runway for the model! Carol, who thinks of everything, replaced all the white light bulbs in the living room with rose-tinted ones, and dimmed the lights down. "Not just for the atmosphere," she explained, "You're going to be in close contact with about a dozen women, and if they look too closely, they'll think you're wearing too much makeup. You wouldn't want them to think you were overdoing it, would you?" I had to agree with her, and I was greatful that she'd expressed it that way...with no offense to my femininity. We'd barely finished setting out the wine and cheese when the doorbell rang. "Don't forget that sweet Southern accent," said Carol, "and don't overdo it either." I cleared my throat, and breathed "Hi, y'all" a few times until it sounded right...or do I mean "raht?" Ah was bayerly satisfahd wiyeth mah voice when Carol opened the door to let in Laura, a tall, raven-haired beauty with a gay smile - and two enormous traveling cases. Carol introduced me as her sister-in-law, "Jackie", and I breathed a too-sexy "Puleezed to meetcha all", as I took one of the cases - expressing the proper degree of exertion - and led Laura into the living room. We set down the cases, and I poured a glass of Chablis for each of us. Looking straight into Laura's eyes as I handed her the glass, I could see that I'd easily passed the first test: Laura was still smiling at me, but the smile had hardened, and I could tell that she viewed me as competition. "Interesting..." I thought - at a gathering with no men. Could she be jealous of my being there with Carol? TO BE CONTINUED... --