MAKEOVER

By three o'clock Denise was carrying four bags full of lace, lycra and leather clothes and wearing the cropped top, leather micro-skirt and shiny black high heels that he had tried on first. He had to keep pulling the skirt down as he walked and he felt a breeze on his prick and ass. He was raw young sex appeal on two legs.

He felt more at ease in his new role now and even proud of his body, which Debbie never stopped praising. "You're such a fox," she'd say or with envy, "You're so stacked. I wish I had your figure." Dennis couldn't help grinning when he heard these compliments.

"How about a make over?" she suggested as they strolled through the cosmetic section. Dennis hesitated and then thought why not. Moments later an attractive young woman in a cream colored lab coat was daubing bright colors on his cheek and speaking in low soothing tones about contrast and shade. Dennis found himself enjoying the attention. Especially when Carol the cosmetician praised his cheekbones or his nose. When she finished he swooned at the luscious girl who stared back at him in the circular mirror. Carol had uncovered or rather created a glittering creature with her brushes and paint and Dennis was amazed at this new level of transformation. His full lips were dark red and his eyes made his heart stutter when he gazed into them in the mirror. He was barely begun to admire himself when Debbie said, "Let's get your hair done now."

Dennis went pale beneath his blusher. "Oh, I don't know. Can't I just leave it the way it is?"

"Your hair is lovely but it needs to be trained. Just like your breasts need a bra for support, your hair needs to be ... tamed. Come on," she said, taking him by the arm and leading him into Hair Designs. When he left the salon an hour and a half later the ponytail was gone but you couldn't really call what replaced it tame. The hairdresser, obviously delighted to get her hands on Dennis's thick, abundant hair, worked it into a frothy mass of soft waves and curls. It curled around his face and spilled onto his shoulders in a thick, bouncing wave.

Dennis was mortified when he saw what had been done to him. Debbie gasped and said, "It's gorgeous." But to Dennis it was the worst possible outcome: big, country-music-star hair which called attention to his overflowing femininity.

People stared at him. He felt heads turn as he walked by. And when they reached a knot of teenage boys his composure, already on shaky ground, completely abandoned him and suddenly he was a teenage girl, giggling with nervous energy, embarrassed and proud of his beauty. It was as though he'd been handed a scepter that had compelling power but he had no idea how to control it. And so he passed through the crowded mall leaving small whirlwinds of heat in his wake. They made their way out into the silent twilight and fell silent themselves. Dennis felt his nipples stiffen in the October chill.

"How are we going to get all this stuff home?" Debbie said finally.

"I guess I should call my mom but I don't really want to."

"Why not?"

"She's never seen me like this."

"Yeah. Well, I could call my mom, I guess."

"Does she know?"

"Not exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She knows."

"Oh, great."

"Hey, it's not a big deal."

Dennis exhaled a bitter laugh. "Okay, well let's go call her."

Debbie's mother was not discreet. She gawked, she stared, even her silence was uncomfortably intrusive and Dennis was glad when they dropped him off at home.

He gathered up all his purchases and went up the walk. His mother opened the door. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Dennis said, bowing his head so that his bounteous hair shrouded his face in shadow.

"Let me take a look at you. Oh my God!" She reached out to hug him but he pulled away.

"What's the matter, honey?"

He ran past her up the stairs to his room.

When he got there he was shocked to find the room had been transformed. Gone were the beige curtains, the brown bedspread and the dresser he'd had since childhood.In their place, were pink draperies, a chenille bedspread, silk sheets and a vanity replete with a table full of cosmetics. A long, rectangular mirror encircled by tiny bulbs completed the picture. A note was taped on the mirror. It read: "For our new daughter, Mom and Dad." Dennis didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He did neither. Instead the girl in the mirror beckoned. Finally alone, she demanded his undivided attention.

Head tipped forward in shy retreat of her own loveliness, hair spilling over her shoulders, she resembled a little girl shyly embarrassed by attention to her good looks. A mischievous smile now overtook her diffidence and she swiveled in a three quarter turn to see just how big her hair was in back and how much space her high firm breasts displaced in profile. The small smile turned big as she took note of her own grandiosity. Hands went to hips next and back arched, trailing her mane down to her waist. The little girl had disappeared. A starlet was emerging. "Dennis," his mother called from behind him.

He wheeled around and felt the free fall of his hair over one shoulder. The little girl suddenly returned, blushing crimson. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked, unable to conceal an amused smile. Dennis looked down. His mother gave him hug and it crossed his mind that his breasts were much bigger than her's. "I'm so proud of you," she said softly. Dennis pushed her away. "Let's see what you got," she said, trying to break the tension.

"Maybe later. I think I'd like to be alone."

"Don't you want to show your Dad ..."

"No!"

"Dennis, you've got to face him sometime. You can't hide up here for the rest of your life." His eyes flickered with a laser beam of stubbornness and his mother beat a hasty retreat.

He locked the door, stripped and looked at his body in the full-length mirror his parents had installed on the back of his door. His body was a conundrum with its voluptuous curves and a big cock swaying between his legs. He touched it. Not with the manly intent of his pre-girl years but daintily, gingerly, as though it were a foreign part of his body, an incongruous artifact of a forgotten time. It sprang to life in his delicate hand and the sight of his nodding tool in concert with his swaying breasts aroused him. He began to play with his image in the mirror. Legs spread and pelvis thrust out, he proffered his stiff rod with one hand and gathered up a shock of red hair with the other while his lips pouted with baby doll insouciance. It was an arresting image and one filled with coarse sensuality. Suddenly a wave of enormous shame mingled with a knowledge of raw, unbridled power swept over him and he lay down on the pink bedspread to catch his breath. His head was swimming with strange hormonal drum beats and even though the blood drained from his cock, his mind retained the image of the lusty androgyne for a long time after.

"Dinner's ready, hon," his mom called out from behind the door.

Dennis stood up and turned to look at himself once again. A mischievous smile overtook his mouth and he picked up his top and twirled it around his finger. Then he put the thin top and tight micro-skirt back on. The outfit celebrated his new convexity to stunning effect. He freshened up his plum lipstick, brushed his bounteous hair over his shoulders and bounced barefoot down the stairs to dinner.

His mother raised an eyebrow as he plopped into his customary seat and his braless breasts jiggled enticingly. He smiled back at her, spreading his napkin over his lap with careful good little girl aplomb. When his father finally emerged from his own hiding place he turned white at the image of his son, whom he had last seen in uncomfortable transition, as a dark-lipped little babe flaunting her big round breasts. He stared at the hard nipples visible under the strech top.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" Dennis said in a breathy, Marilynesque whisper. "I thought you wanted this," he said, resting his hands modestly over his breasts.

His father struggled with his emotions for a moment and then sat silently, a frozen smile fixed on his face. "Dennis went ..."

"I'm Denise now, Mom."

She nodded in his direction. "Denise went to the mall today."

"Oh," his father said, trying to seem interested.

"He ... she bought some new clothes, on your credit card."

"Oh."

They ate in silence. Denise watched them carefully. They didn't look up once for 10 minutes. "Look! My nipples are hard," Denise finally said, nonchalantly breaking the silence. "What causes that, I wonder?" he said, throwing his shoulders back to emphasize his breasts. His parents looked up for a moment and then down immediately at their plates. He toyed with a strand of spaghetti for a long moment and then said, "Look, I'm a girl now. You'd better get used to it because I have." He got up suddenly and went back to his room.

"What was that all about?" his father said.

"I don't know," his mother said.

"Maybe you'd better go see if he's ... she's all right."

"Why don't you. I think that little performance was for your benefit."

"What do I say?"

"Just accept her."

"But she's so ... sexy."

"Have you looked around lately? That's the way girls are these days."

"It's hard to adjust to him that way."

"Her. And you'll just have to try."

He got up and walked slowly up the stairs."Dennis, uh sorry, Denise," he called out. When no response came, he tried the doorknob and finding it unlocked he opened the door a crack and poked his head in.

Denise was sitting at his new vanity. His arm was inside the crop top, which was pushed up over his big naked boobs. He looked at his father and a smile lit up his face. "Hi, Daddy," he purred.

His father eyes dropped to Denise's high and firm naked tits and he withdrew hastily. "Sorry, I thought you were ..."

"Daddy," Denise laughed, "don't be silly. We're family aren't we?" Hiding behind the door, his father grew purple with embarrassment. "Listen, Daddy, I'm not what I was. I'm your little girl now with not so little breasts. And I'm a knockout and I like it. So you better get used to me this way because I'm not changing back." Slowly the door closed and Denise smiled into the mirror for a moment before resuming the brush strokes of his mascara.

Later that evening, Denise went online and used his father's credit card to order $1,000 worth of leather and latex clothes from stores on the internet.

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