Smoke and Mirror

Transcript:

“You know, I say I’m desperate but I’m not that desperate,”

“Nonsense, my dear brother. You are contemplating to sell dad’s house to pay off out debts. Admit it Charles, you are scraping the bottom of the barrel,”

“Yeah but there isn’t a need to do this-”

“Charles, listen to me. It’s exactly because you can that’s why we are doing this. It’s fine if you wish to flip burgers or be a Walmart employee but you must understand your gift is going to open doors for you,”

“Not a particular gift I’m proud of, sis,”

“We all had to earn our living. Some of us are not fortunate enough to live our dreams, you know?”

Charles sighed. All he wanted to do was to teach. However society’s paranoia of males around young kids and perception of male teachers not being sympathetic or good as their female counterparts were obstacles to his dream. Then again, Charles was not your typical male; being shorter, smaller and androgynous due to genes and diet, Charles still look quite boyish despite being in his late twenties. That was his sister’s inspiration.

His sister, Jennifer had a outlandish idea. If they don’t wish to hire Charles, maybe they will hire Charline instead, Charles alter ego. It was not first time he had crossdressed anyway, she reasoned as he had a minor in theatrics. In his course of studies, he had experienced being the fairer sex for the sake of the play but that was that, merely theatrics and drama. However, he argued, this was real life. Nobody would be that stupid.

How very wrong was he when Jennifer, a makeup artist by trade, applied her magic on his face; thick eyeliners and eyeshadows on his eyes to emphasise them, foundation to hide the blemishes and 5 o’clock shadows, lipsticks and lipliners to make his lips fuller and brushes on his face to soften his manly features. When the wig was put over him, Charles scrutinised his reflection; all that was greeted to him was a familiar but feminine face. The reflection’s solemn but seductive eyes disguised his plain beady eyes, its elongated and narrow nose created through concealers and brush, its lips made full using nothing but lipstick, lipgloss, lipliner and depth perception and its cheeks slightly full and puffed with judicial application of the rogue. Charline was staring at him.

“Holy shit Jennifer, how?” Charles muttered in amazement however he noted that his voice had spoiled the illusion a bit and if he looked at it closer, it was as if his face was emerging from the reflection.

“Smokes and mirrors, dear brother. Now let’s change that tone of yours. It’s unsightly for a woman to have such a deep voice.” Jennifer replied mockingly.

Charles chuckled, it was a while since he did this, he wondered whether he still got it in him. “I know darling, is this good enough?” a huskier voice emanated from his voice box, ‘that’s better,’ he thought as he looked, it complimented the rather somber lady in the mirror.

“Not yet hun,” Jennifer rummaged through a couple of bags and took out a pair of breast form, “you still look like a man down there.”

Charles then went through the transformation like a routine as habits from his theatre days came back to him. The process felt familiar; shaving off the remaining hairs on his legs, moisturising of the skin, the breast forms, the infamous tucking of the cock to give the illusion of a flat, smooth crotch.wearing of the bra first before hooking, the padded girdles that was seemingly one size smaller all the time, rolling up of the tights and carefully pulling them up through both legs, buttons on the left side of clothes and finally, the airy opening beneath his skirt.

And when he finally did up his own hair, he looked into the mirror again. There, a fully bona fide female wa staring at him, he smiled and the reflection did the same, he posed and the reflection copied his move.  The illusion was immaculate not only from the outside but the inside as well, Charles was slowly being convinced that he was a female as he relished the feeling of his satin blouse caressing his bare skin, his opaque black tights wrapping around his legs tightly, his skirt hugging snugly against his false hip and his breast form weighing against the bra like actual breasts.

“So, shall we see whether people are as stupid as you thought?” Jennifer snapped out of his reverie as she grabbed her bag, “Hmm, Charline?” Jennifer continued cheekily. The woman in front of the mirror merely turned her smile into a smirk as she sashayed confidently towards her sister, skills learnt from the past were returning to her. Her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor, each move causing his false bosom to bounce slightly and his nylon clad thighs to rub against each other tenderly. Charline was loving these sensations.

“Let’s go darling,” Charline said with a dignified air, a headmistresses archetype should be most welcomed for a lot of school and she wanted to get her act right.

Ensnared by a Dionaea

Transcript:

The room, as usual, is filled with the smell of rose and lilac, no doubt from her perfume to enhance her femininity. Sometimes, I wonder whether she tempers it by adding pheromones to arouse people around her seeing that man and woman alike are always receptive towards her.

‘Her’? Ah yes, I’ve gone over the dilemma of assigning a gender to ‘her’. It’s easier that way, besides, she likes it when she’s referred as ‘miss’.

There she is, crouching in front of her mirror, clad in silk lingerie and fishnet stocking. She must have heard me and assumed that position for she knows what I like, her slim but firm derriere. Her skin seems to shimmer in the light and one does not need to touch to know that it is smooth and soft. How she does maintain that body is anybody’s guess, she’s extremely tight-lipped with her regime. Hormones, exercise, diet, genetics, surgery, fucking magic? Could be any of those and frankly, I have stopped rationalising a few weeks after being employed under her. Besides, I have a bigger problem now as I discretely shift my pants.

“Are you ready, ma'am?” I clear my throat, trying to level my tone. Keep it professional, Yori, it is not after hours yet. The woman narrowed her lips (made plump no doubt with the help of lipstick) into a fake pout. “How many times do I have to tell you,” she swang deftly and crossed her toned legs, “call me Minako,” My eyes immediately take in the sight of her lithe body, the petite bosom; realistic breast form with its lines masked under foundational make-up, taut stomach and the flat nether region of which under the silk panty tucks a male appendage that contradicts against her feminine illusion.

“Oh, I wonder what are you looking at?” She grins as she catches my line of sight. Her feminine voice, no doubt trained from young, betrays no sign of masculinity. People have often expressed surprise when they know of her identity (it takes a lot of persuasion, some had even demanded her to strip and show her genitia) and most often than not it’s either disgust, admiration, arousal or a mixture of all three after the initial shock.

I belonged to the latter, that is probably why she teases me so. She enjoys seeing people squirm as they question their notion taken granted. She also enjoys it when people shower her with affection not because of her femininity but because of who she is and she knows I would shower her with it by pressing the right buttons.    

“Anyway, please get ready, ma’am. The play is starting soon,” I replied curtly and turned around just in time to get hugged from behind. Her deft hands rubbing my already erected penis. “I only need an hour to get ready for the play, my dear Yori,” she whispered huskily (damn her range is good), “So pray tell, why are you here four hours early, hmm?” I could not see it but I could feel her smirk from behind. The air is now heavy with the fragrance of rose and lilac, it is making me light-headed. Fuck, she caught me red-handed.

Really, I’m ensnared by her like a fly to a venus flytrap.

Compensated Dating

Reading about Enjo Kosai may help understand the context behind this caption.

Transcript:

“Do you think he knows?” the bespectacled lady whispered, her voice was breathy but controlled, as if the lady was trying to maintain it.

“Nah, I doubt it. I can see lust in his eyes,” her partner boredly whispered back, her voice was unusually low like a man.

“How did you know? And hey, don’t break character!”

“When you’re in this field long enough, you can observe a hell lot of things,” the partner dismissed him, “Besides, we look like two girls checking him out,” the partner giggled, her voice radically transformed to a bubbly and feminine one.

Tetsuo couldn’t believe what he had gotten himself into. An amatuer actor by trade, he had a unique gift of mimicry which yielded him some gigs but these were not enough to sustain himself in a city like Tokyo. Contemplating to apply for a second job, Shin, a friend of his, introduced him to the job of compensated dating.

“Don’t you mean reverse-compensated dating?”

“Oh no, I mean you as a girl, fishing for man,”

“I’m not becoming a tranny,”

“You don’t have to; all we need is an illusion, dear Tetsuo.”

And here he was, squeezed into a corset, gaff and padded girdle. Breast form and long hair wig to emphasise his femininity. However, the most impressive disguise was the mask, it felt real; malleable, firm and smooth, like what you expect from a young woman's skin. Wearing it over and donning female clothing, Tetsuo couldn’t believe his eyes; he had regressed into a girl in her early twenties.

“Well Mika, should we go and earn our, keep?” Tetsuo was snapped back to reality, facing Tetsuo, or rather Kaori, the fake female smiled. This could work after all!

“Of course Kaori, it’s not good to keep them waiting,” the bespectacled Mika replied chirply.

First Date Jitters

Transcript:

 

Channing was getting the first-date jitters. Sure, this was his first time going out on a date but he was having butterflies in the stomach for a whole different reason.

“Calm yourself, it’s going to be alright. You train yourself for this,” Channing muttered under his breath as he took the corset and put it on. “Remember. Sway your hips when you walk, don’t exaggerate!” Feeling the tightness around his abdomen, he went on to put on his padded girdle, his “girl shorts”. The girdle with the corset created an illusion of feminine curves and hiding his erected member under the flesh-coloured garment.

“This costs me a lot but it’s worth it,” Channing picked up his breast form as he carefully apply the adhesive. Glueing it to his chest, he looked into a full-body mirror and adjusted it. Channing hated mirrors like that, it reminded him of his body and his gender; what he could not be when he was born but things were different now. His mirror was set up to only show the body of the user minus the face and now it reflected an image of a female body; its legs were rather thick but toned, shaved and moisturized, the body had a feminine curve with lacy corset and a girdle however, what stood out was the lack of female genitalia and outlining of the breast form. Channing smiled to himself, it was alright. A good dress would be able conceal the lower half and a good bout of makeup would make the breast form natural as if he was born with it.

Next was the clothing. Black stockings, white brassiere and thongs, lace dresses embroidered with floral patterns and matching open-toed heels. He loved the feel of lace and silk against his skin as he put them on. With each garment, he felt a step closer to who he was. “There,” Channing spoke but the words that came out was modulated and higher in pitch. Finally, Channing sauntered to his dressing table, his hips swaying while the heels clicking hard with every step against the wooden floor. On it was a female head with long blond hair stared emptily at him, he carefully peeled the skin off and wore it over his head, feeling his alter ego, no, his true self surfacing.

Bending over and looking into the full length mirror again, Charlie saw her reflection. She gave a demure smile and the reflection did the same. The first date jitter was gone and in place was confidence of a woman that knows her sexuality. Looking at the clock, she knew she would be late for her date, a man that goes by the name Johnny. Charlie looked at the reflection again; going by her looks, she was sure Johnny would forgive, it’s after all, their first date and the female always came late, right?

Now You See Him, Now You Don't

Transcript: 

 

China’s a huge place.

Ask Huang, he knew it best. Owner of an amatuer model website, he knew the number of unique hits on his website could go up to millions. But Huang realised that the sheer scale of population in China meant if people go missing, no one would miss them. Likewise, if new people came in, it wouldn’t make much of a difference and no one would notice them.

Today’s photoshoot would be for Ai Xue.  The theme, due to popular demand, would be maids. Huang shook his head as he began applying foundation make-up to his face, they really loved it after all. Being short and stuck with a body that could be described as male adolescent, Huang was never manly but rather boyish-looking. Because of that, people never treated him seriously until he found a knack in doing makeup and using photoshops.

After he finished his makeup, Huang proceeded to wear his wig and combed his hair; a girl in the reflection mimicked his action. Satisfied, Huang proceeded to dress up; the silky touch of the maid costume, arm-length gloves and black stockings with lace tops, pleased Huang tremendously. Setting the self-timer of his camera, Huang had disappeared and Ai Xue had come. “A beautiful illusion”, Ai Xue mused as she heard the camera clicked and flashed, “too bad, they are too fragile,” she sighed as she thought about the heavy amount of photoshop filters to maintain illusion.

A Friend in Need, is a Friend in Deed.

And another one. I really like the sentiments behind this. I think the idea behind this comes from a masking fiction I've read, Weaver's Tales, I think.

Transcript:

Oh crap, what I have gotten myself into?

I pace around the living room frantically. It’s taking too long already, why hasn’t he come out? It’s like I’m waiting for a women to powder her nose.

Women? Wait, wait, wait, he’s not a women. He’s a he! Not a women. Don’t think too much about it, Jason. Cool down. All you need to do, is to help him come in terms with himself, like a good friend. Yeah, that’s it.

“Jason?” Comes a breathy feminine voice, “I-I’m ready.”

I gulp,  turn, look and instantly regret my decision to turn for standing in front of me is not my good friend, Lucian but a woman who call herself Catherine. “So, how do I look?”

Black,shimmering dresses, paired with black sheer hosiery and black pumps, my friend flashes a smile as if she- he’s posing. Blonde hair, and blue eyed contacts, very different from the first time I saw him in drags. His figure, damn, how did he mask it? Was it the black? Or did he wear something to give him those breasts and hip?

Fuck. It’s happening again. When Lucian showed me his alter ego, I was blown away at how convincing he looked; the make-up, those kissable lips and the cute nose. I’ve always known Lucien is small and boyish looking but this, this is too much. And now, just like before, I couldn’t take my eyes of her, I mean, him. God damn it.

“Jason, hello?” the breathy voice again. How the hell did he do it? The voice? He must have been training for hours. Probably days. Maybe even months? Years? Fuck, I don’t know. Hell, I don’t even want to know.

“Jason, are you alright?” She, he took a step closer. I can even smell the perfume, very feminine, very nice. My goodness, it’s getting harder to think of her as a him. Wild thoughts came into my mind, what is she like under that dress? Is he wearing tights, stockings with garter belts, what about lingerie? Is he wearing that too under it? How sexy is it?

“I’m alright, Lucien. God help me, you never fail to freak me out,”

Lucien took a step back, head sunken and shoulders withdrawn. Ah, shit. “I mean, you never fail to amaze me, Lucien,”

“Catherine. Please call me Catherine.”

Oh, I give up. Just go with the flow, Jason. 10 years of friendship is not worth breaking over something like this.

“Fine then, Catherine. Or should I say, Cathy?”

Upon hearing this, Catherine lightens up and flashes an innocent smile (Even the dentures are different), she looks like a normal girl who’s dressed up for a date. Now that I’ve seen her like this, there’s no way I could refuse her request her first time night’s out, right?

“Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Putting my hands over her shoulder, I sighed mentally. Whatever it is, Catherine is Lucien, Lucien’s a good friend, therefore, Catherine is a good friend and I can’t ignore a good friend’s bidding.

Best Friend Forever

Inspired by Trevor’s A Walk in the Park and other bodysuit comics.

Transcript:

Tim and I grew up together and in the process, do everything together; sports, hobbies, studies, parties, outings and even holidays, name any social activity and chances are we did it. Knowing him for 19 years, one could even say that I know him better than anybody else. When we go to different college, our friendship wasn’t even compromised, we would still call and talk and occasionally even meet despite our busy schedule.

So when he announced that he is going to ask a girl out, I wasn’t feeling surprised albeit, a bit jealous; Tim had always been chasing skirt and I was his wingman but because of his introverted personality, he never really got any girl. Unsurprisingly, he came to me dejected that the girl rejected him. I winced and yet at the same time, felt relieved; there was no time. It’s time to put the plans in action.

I must admit, I lied at the beginning. We did most of the things together but even my best friend Tim didn’t know that I’m a closet crossdresser. Going to college, I studied theatre and dramatics as an elective to my arts major and that’s when inspiration strikes: if Tim couldn’t find the perfect woman, why can’t I be the perfect woman for him?

And now here I am, Evvie Haleigh, college student from another state visiting relatives for the weekend. Inspecting my auburn wig (he’s a sucker for redhead), blue cardigan, short pink skirt, flesh-toned tights and the 3-inches pump (He’s a leg man), I ready myself for my “first” encounter with Tim.

“Well, my shy Timmy, here I come,” I giggled in my honeyed voice.