Archive-name: Changes/nitynite.txt
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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...

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