A Touch Of Mink

It was a bit unsettling to think I could be so easily feminized in so short a time. It was more unsettling that, of late, Mistress infrequently dropped her steely façade, allowing the Sable I loved to appear. This was one of those occasions. I voiced my distress over how easily she had changed me. She didn't come down on me as harshly as Mistress would have, but her reply was just as distressing.

"Let's drop the pretense, Pussy Boy," she smirked. "You are not a man anymore. You never were, really. You showed your true colors that night with Derek. Last night, you werebegging him to fuck you. We both know you are a slut like me. You always have been. It's time you became one for real. Don't fight it; you'll lose."

For real?

"But youmade me be a slut," I protested weakly.

"Nonsense," she huffed. "You could have said 'no' at any time. You didn't. You didn'twant to say 'no', did you? Besides…"

She cuddled up to me, kissed me lightly on the lips, and smiled coyly.

"… I like youmuch better this way. Be honest with me.You like it too, don't you?"

My head was reeling. Bad Sable. Good Sable. I was so confused. As far as 'Bad Sable' went, this could still be just a perverse, extreme extension of our favorite sex game. Yeah, but… was this agame? It didn't seem like one. Was she testing my limits - or my commitment to obeying her every command? Or was she just setting me up for that ultimate humiliation; robbing me of any trace of my meager masculinity, then leaving me, laughing, for some hugely-hung, muscle-bound stud. How far was she going to take this? Did she really love me, or was she just leading me on, using me, after all?Did I really like being a girl, as she had suggested? I justdid not know.

I couldn't utter a word. In my utterly confused state, my tongue was tied up in knots. She took that as a tacit admission and beamed in triumph.

"I thought so," she crowed. "Sugar, I have always known you were…different than other men. I liked that in you from the start. I fuck men for the sex. Imarried you for the love, companionship, and that special connection between us –this connection."

"Will Mistress be angry at me for being too… ,familiar with you?" I asked.

She smiled impishly.

"You have beenvery good this past few weeks," Sable cooed appreciatively. "Mistress has decided to take a little time off – and given me permission to reward you. C'mon, Girlfriend; let's go get you fixed up."

"Go?" I cried. "Gowhere?"

"Why, to get you lookin' good, like you know you should," she chimed in her sing-song street-speak. "Baby, we need to get you some work done. I'm takin' you to my salon to start."

"I can't go out looking like this," I whined. "I look ridiculous, like a man in a, a… Hell, I'm not evenwearing a dress!"

Sable smiled evilly.

"Well, then, Sugar," she cooed, "we'll just have to put youin one, won't we? And by the time we get you back from the salon, Ipromise no one will think you look like 'a man in a dress."

Bad Sable?

Sable took me up to our bedroom and stripped my out of my bra, corset, and heels. It felt so awkward, so unnatural, standing in stocking feet after wearing heels almost two whole weeks! She went to her closet and removed two boxes, each about eight inches square. Opening one, she removed a life-like silicone breast form and held it to my chest. I jumped involuntarily as firm silicone touched my own flesh. I didn't remember my nipples being so sensitive before. The breast form pressed against my chest looked huge to me, but it was still considerably smaller than my wife's prodigious assets. She moved it around a bit until it was positioned just so.

"Yeah, that will be just about right – until we get something bigger," she murmured.

She marked its position with a highlighter pen, then repeated the process with its mate. While she was marking their respective positions, I got a good look at my own flat chest. It wasn't flat anymore. Unlike my limp dick, my nipples were fully erect. Even the flesh around them seemed puffy, distended. The soft, concave back of each breast form molded itself to my flesh like a second skin. My wife had me lie down on the bed, face up. She applied a gel-like substance to the back of each breast form, then to the marked areas of my chest. After waiting a bit, she carefully re-applied each breast form to my chest, pressing firmly on both for several minutes.

"Wait there, Baby Girl," she purred with a wink. "I'll be right back."

She walked to the bathroom and returned a moment later with the hair dryer. She plugged it in, turned it on, then began fanning the breast forms. As I watched, the slightly wrinkled, feathered edges began to tighten. In a few minutes, she switched off the dryer with a satisfied smile. To the casual eye, there was not a trace of an edge or seam. The breast forms appeared to be my own bounteous flesh. If the sight of them was arousing, the sensation of them rubbing against my sensitive nipples was incredible!

"There! Now, let's get you dressed."

My satisfied spouse helped me to my feet. The new weight on my chest was a bit disorienting. I looked down at my new thrusting mammaries. They were big and full and round, without a hint of sag. They lookedfake, but not like cheap falsies that had been stuffed in my bra cups. It was more accurate to say they lookeddone - like a smaller version of Sable's own fabulous boob job.

The corset was re-positioned and laced tight. A black-and-white leopard-print leather halter top was slipped over my head, then zipped up the back. Sable bid me to step into a black lambskin mini-skirt, then smoothed it up my slender legs and zipped it in place. Next, she slipped leopard-print open-toed ankle-strap sandals on my feet and buckled the straps in place. The pencil-thin six-inch stiletto spikes arched my feet and legs into the extreme arch I had become accustomed to. As a final touch, my wife placed a wide-brimmed leopard hat on my bald head, tilting it at a jaunty angle.

"All right, Girlfriend," she intoned smugly. "That will do for now. Let's get going."

My body may have become accustomed to having the breath squeezed out of it, but that didn't mean it wascomfortable. Even after a month, my feet hurt badly from being crammed into the tight shoes and arched into an unnatural angle. A hit ofOxy was taking care of both nicely. I saw myself in the floor-to-ceiling closet-door mirrors. Although I had been parading back and forth in foundations and heels the past twelve days, this was the first time I had seen myself completely dressed. I didn't lookbad in the outfit. In fact, even without hair or makeup, I looked… attractive. I had lost another eight pounds (who had an appetite when a corset was nearly cutting them in half?) and now had a really feminine figure and a supermodel's hollowed-out cheeks. At least, Sable in her heels and I in mine were now the same height. Still, I was terrified I would be 'read' as soon as I stepped out the door. I was trembling like a leaf in the wind. Sable read my thoughts accurately.

"Poor Baby," she cooed. "You still don't believe how good you look, do you? I'll bet you are afraid to set foot out that door, let alone ride downtown with me to my salon. Tell ya what. Let's do a little something to get this par-tay startedright. What do you say?"

Good Sable.

Sable stepped over to her vanity for a moment, then returned with a familiar mirrored tray. She had poured out a small pile from her stash. Now, she cut it into eight lines with a single-edged razor blade. She picked up the small sterling silver straw and snorted two lines in each nostril, tapping each afterwards to get every flake. Then, she handed the straw to me.

"Here you are, Baby Girl," she purred. "This will get you right."

Evil Sable! I had never done coke with her before, never had a desire to. She knew that. Then again, there were a lot of things I had never done before this past month. I knew I neededsomething to quell the jitters enough to get me out the door. Was this another test of my commitment to her? Good Sable or Bad, I loved her. Doing this with her, together, made it feel right; one more thing we could share – if only this one time. One time wouldn't hurt, would it?

I took the proffered straw, gingerly placed one end to a line of coke, the other to my left nostril, and inhaled, tracing the length of the line like a vacuum cleaner. I did a second line, then switched the straw to the other nostril and did two more, just as I had seen Sable do. The rush was immediate, intense, and surreal. My head spun and my vision blurred for a moment. An intense feeling of well-being washed over me. Sable beamed.

"Ready?" she asked.

I smiled and winked.

"Then we got places to go, people to see, and changes to be made," she pronounced.

She handed me a leopard-print leather clutch to accessorize my outfit. Then, we were down the stairs and out the door. The top and skirt weretight. They creaked provocatively with each step. I felt beautiful, sexy,alive and looked forward to the adventure ahead.

Sable drove our500SL. She was more experienced with the head rush we both felt and how to manage it. She found a parking place on the street just a few doors down from the entrance ofAllure, a very fashionable-looking salon that proclaimed itself for "women of color".

"Here you are, Sweetness," she cooed. "I bought you a little gift in honor of your 'debut'. I hope you like it as much as I like mine. Now we have something else we can share."

She handed me a small box with a bow on it. Upon opening the lid, I discovered a sterling silver coke vial. It was identical to the one I had gifted her with for her last birthday. It had a little silver spoon affixed to the underside of the lid, making it easy to snort a generous hit of coke. We each did a spoonful in each nostril before exiting the car, then sashayed down the sidewalk, giggling like to schoolgirls sharing a deep, dark secret.

We entered the salon with a flourish. Sable greeted Sasha, the salon's owner and her personal friend. My wife introduced "Pussy Boy",her husband, pronounced it her wish I go through a 'change of life', and bade Sasha to give me the "deluxe treatment". The whistles and catcalls were deafening. If I hadn't been on a coke high, I probably would have been mortified. As it was, I blushed and yielded to guiding hands. I was led to a plush, padded salon couch. I settled into the cushions and my hat was removed. The couch was reclined and I surrendered myself, physically and mentally, to whatever would come.

In a month of intense experiences, this was yet one more. Contrary to my initial rationalization, we had done more coke in the car. Sable's gift to me made it clear she intended this to be a regular part of our new relationship, just as my extreme feminization had become. Doing coke with her once was being conciliatory, sharing the experience. I might have had serious misgivings about doing ittwice – if my head had been straight. As it was, it was just one more part of the thrill I was feeling – of being out with my lady, being pampered by the salon staff, and feeling more alive than ever before.

My loving wife kissed her fingertips, then touched my cheek.

"Sasha and the girls will take good care of you. Be a good girl and do what they tell you. I'll be back in a little while."

"Where are you going?" I asked timidly, afraid to be left alone in this unfamiliar environment.

Sasha beamed that smile at me; the one that makes me believe everything will be fine.

"Oh, I just have to run a couple of errands while they are making you pretty for me," she replied with a wink. "I need to talk to a couple of people and make some… arrangements for our 'Girls Night Out'. I'll be back before you know it."

She turned to go, then paused, as if remembering something. She turned to me once more, grinning a Cheshire smile.

"I just thought of something," she whispered conspiratorially. "It's been a while since your last hit ofOxy and I'll be gone a while. It wouldn't do to have you squirming in the chair while Sasha and the girls are trying to do their best work on you, so…"

Shielding me from view with her body, she gently placed a pill between my lips, then held my chin closed until I swallowed.

"There, all better! It you get the urge to do a little blow, they're really cool about it here. Just think of it as a little appetizer. We'llreally party later!"

She winked, puckered her lips, blew me an air kiss, then turned and left.

When my 'afternoon of beauty' was over… well, I'm not certain how to put it into words. My lover had returned in time for the 'Grand Unveiling'. Together, we gazed into the mirror and viewed the results of all the hard work of Sasha and her operators. Sable had been accurate to a fault. There wasno way anyone could look at me and perceive me as a man in a dress.

My formerly-bald head was now adorned with a mane of thick, tight glistening black curls which cascaded to the small of my back. Sasha confided she had anchored my new hair with a special waterproof, oil-proof medical adhesive that would not loosen until she applied the special remover. Sable confirmed she had used the same adhesive to attach my stunning new breasts.

Through the miracles of silicone injection, Sasha had 'pumped' my lips and cheekbones fuller than they had been before. She cautioned me this was a service she provided only to trusted, preferred patrons. The FDA did not approve of it, but she would be happy to provide the service to me as long as I was discreet about it.

Sable had plucked and trimmed my eyebrows when she removed the hair from the rest of my body. They looked… OK, but after comparing them to those of the women I met at the salon, I felt they were shapeless. Sasha had added her agreement.

"Girl, not everyone is blessed with perfect features. This is one we can easily fix. Leave it to us."

My unruly eyebrows - the last of my body hair - had been removed completely with electrolysis. Then, new high-arched, pencil-thin brows had been inked in with a tattoo needle. The repeated pinpricks had stung a little, but Sasha assured me it would all be worth it.

My face had been made over for pure drama; thick, furry lashes above and below, broad swaths of ebony eyeliner extending beyond the edges of my eyes, intense, yet perfectly-blended shades of light and dark shadow for my eyelids and blush for my newly-enhanced cheekbones, a dark, glistening shade of Burgundy Cherry for my pumped-up lips. It would take a while to get used to my new talons; dark cherry to match my lips and flashy gold nail art - a perfect compliment to Sable's own. I had never really dwelled on how long and slender my fingers were. Now, my new nails made them look utterly, irrevocably feminine. My open-toed sandals were the perfect vehicle to display my elegant sculptured toenails and golden toe rings.

There were golden rings on my fingers, too – and in my earlobes. My ears had been multiple-pierced and sported four sets of concentric golden rings, ending with four-inch hoops in my lobes. The scent ofObsession wafted about me. For my crowning glory, Sasha carefully positioned my wide-brimmed hat on my head at the same jaunty angle as before. The overall effect was way over-the-top. I remembered some of my friends speaking derogatorily ofwiggers. I certainly looked like one now. I wondered what those friends would think of me now – not that they wouldknow it was me unless I confessed to them. It was likely they wouldn't believe itthen. Sasha's thoughts were in a similar vein.

"Sable, there is no way we can call her 'Pussy Boy' now. No one is gonna believe she is a boy unless they pull down her panties, and anyone who gets that close isn't gonna care."

"What do you suggest?" my wife inquired. "I am wide open for ideas."

"How about…Mink," Sasha offered. "She is soft, sexy, alluring, and utterly feminine, the kind of woman you just want to wrap yourself in and get lost."

"Hmmm," Sable pondered. "Sable and Mink. I like it. Thank you Sasha – foreverything."

Sasha handed me my clutch, which now contained lipstick, gloss, lip brush, pressed powder and blush brush, the little silver vial containing my stash, plus a pick comb to fluff up my shimmering curls. Sable winked at me, a coy smile on her lips.

"Shall we go…Mink?"

I took a last look in the mirror. I looked so damn good – and felt that way, too!Good Sable, Bad Sable; who cared?

I slipped my arm through hers and allowed her to lead me out of the salon, amidst whistles, cat-calls, and admonitions of: "You go, Girl!" The wiggle in my walk was neither subtle nor sub-conscious.

Our next stop was the office of Darien Morrissey, M.D., Sable's personal physician. I had met Doctor Morrissey before. She had referred us to the cosmetic surgeon who had performed all of Sable's procedures. In fact, Sable had, only recently, convinced me to make Doctor Morrisseymy primary care physician as well. I had been very impressed with her professional, yet caring, personable manner in handling my physical exam six weeks earlier. I remembered she had beenvery thorough, much more so than any of my previous General Practitioners.

***

Darien had called me back a couple of weeks later to schedule a follow-up test. The chagrined doctor confessed one of my original tests had obviously been contaminated in the lab. The result had been too far outside the norms established by my other tests to have been accurate. Just to be safe, she needed to re-test me to clear it up once and for all. It was nothing to worry about, she continued, but the procedure was one of those 'nasty ones' andcould be a bit painful….

As far as I was concerned, all tests taken during a physical exam were 'nasty ones'; thinly-disguised medieval torture techniques. The doctor offered me the option of general anesthesia and, like the big baby I am, I took it. She was light and breezy afterward, promising she would be in touch if anything was amiss. I hadn't heard back from her and hadn't given the matter another thought. In truth, my thoughts were elsewhere. Darien was almost as stunning an ebony enchantress as my wife. I certainly seemed to have a fascination with attractive Black women.

***

Sable parked the car in the adjacent parking structure and began to open her door. I stayed her arm with one elegantly-manicured hand. A salon full of strangers was one thing; I was a bit hesitant to present myself to our physician – someone who knew us - in this new persona. In truth, I was starting to come down from my emotional and chemically-induced high and feeling less self-confident, despite Sasha's hard work. Sable read me like a book.

"Don't be silly, Sugar," she fussed. "We're big girls here. So is Darien. She won't have any problems with it, any more than Sasha and her girls did. Darien is staying late on a Thursday evening just to see us - to seeyou."

"Oh, God," I groaned. "You didn'ttell her about this, did you? Why?"

"Sooner or later, she wouldhave to know, Sugar," she crooned. "Why not now? It's all for the best. Now, straighten up, fly right, andbe a big girl for me. Everything will be fine. You'll see. Perhaps we need to fortify ourselves with a little 'powdered courage'."

Bad Sable! Bad, Bad, Bad! I wasn't about to argue. It was bizarre. Until that morning, I had never gotten high on anything other than an occasional bottle of champagne or mixed drink. Now….