Cosmetology Class

 

            After my extreme tickling encounter, in Psychology, I proceeded on to my next class, Cosmetology.  I'm not quite sure how I came to be enrolled in that class, as I did not sign up for it.  Nevertheless, it was on my schedule, and I was at least going to give it a shot.  I walked into the class, and noticed that several of the same girls from my previous class were there.  They smiled big, almost too big, when I walked into the classroom.

            The professor, Dr. Silklin, was much younger than Dr. Taft, and very easy on the eyes.  She was tall, nearing six feet, with long slender legs, which she showed off with a very short skirt, and a nice upper body.  Her blouse was unbuttoned a little far, showing some serious cleavage.  She wore high-heeled pumps, with ankle-straps (Oh, My God, I love ankle strap pumps).  Her hair was blonde, and wavy, and fell down past her shoulders.  Her blue eyes could have talked me into doing anything; and they soon did.

            "Hello, girls," Dr. Silklin greeted us, "and guy.  My name is Dr. Silklin, but you can call me Patty.  I don't feel old enough for you to be calling me doctor.  I figured to day would be a good day to see what everyone knows, so we're going to take a student and give them a full makeover.  I've already chosen the student, so don't bother yourselves with that."

            "Who did you choose, Patty?"  It was one of the girls from the previous class, inquiring.

            "I chose someone who I was sure would need it," Dr. Silklin said, somewhat smugly.  "Ladies we have in our class a young man, named Desmond."

            "You can call me Dez," I said, smiling, not quite catching the drift of what she was implying.

            "Fair enough," Dr. Silklin continued.  "As you ladies can see, Desmond does not look at all like any of you.  In fact, he does not look at like a female."

            Now, I started to get it.  I felt uneasy, and started shifting in my seat.  I was beginning to see a pattern.  They had let me into this school, to make an example of me.  They figured the number of young men putting in applications would decrease, if rumors got out that the young men who were accepted were subject to various forms of torture, and from what it sounded like here, forced feminization.

            "So, today," Dr. Silklin added.  "We are going to see how well we can make Desmond look like a female."

            "Wait a minute," I started to plead my case.  "I don't think that's such...."

            "Silence, Dez," Dr. Silklin cut me off.  "This is my classroom.  I'll decide who is allowed to speak, as well as what the classroom activities for the day will be.  Now, we have a special chair for you over here."

            She pointed towards what looked like a dentist's chair.

            "You can go over there and have a seat," she said, "or, we'll take you over there and seat you.  Now, from what I heard about the last time you tried to run, I think you should just come on over and have a seat."

            I rose slowly, and very timidly walked over to the seat.  This was embarrassing.  They knew that I knew that they could do whatever they wanted to, and I could do nothing about it, because there were so many of them.

            "Before you sit," Dr. Silklin spoke again.  "Remove all your clothes, except for your underwear."

            "But....," I tried to interject.

           

            I stripped down to my boxer, as sat down in the chair.

            "Now, girls," Dr. Silklin continued, "I have a list on the board, of what each of you is supposed to do, so that we can do this organized, and get it done quickly.

            "Dez," she continued.  "You may as well close your eyes, because there's going to be so much going on, that you will be too confused if you try to watch."

            A short while later, I was surrounded, once again, by a bunch of girls.  This time there was only about twenty, though, but they had their hands all over me, which I didn't mind a bit.  What I did mind, was what they were doing.  And several times, I tried to argue and sway them away form their intended purpose, but it was to no avail.

            I could only sit and allow, as they reshaved my already shaven face, and continued to shave my entire body, except for what was under the boxers.  They shaved my arms, legs, chest, back, and underarms (which tickled like hell), and then proceeded to rub aftershave gel all over me, which felt great except for the stinging.  I figured, if that was what it took to have the hands of females all over me, I could be a willing participant, and gave up my arguing.  Besides, it would only be for a little while, and then I could change back to normal.

            I began to see things, though that would have more permanent results.  They started trimming and plucking my eyebrows.  I voice my discomfort several times, during that.  They also manicured my hands, and pedicured my feet, coating each with a thick layer of red polish.  I was beginning to get concerned.  I knew that the polish could be removed, but for some reason, I felt sure they were not going to give me any nail polish remover, and I would have to a store, and buy it myself (how embarrassing when the store clerk would see my painted fingernails).

            At this point, they were applying all of the make-up and things of that nature.  I was feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, not knowing how far they planned to take it.

            Next, I was instructed to sit up, and put my arms out in front of me, while they put a specially made bra on me (it made it look like I had big breast).  Once again, I stifled my arguments, under the impression that it was only temporary.  After they had finished all of the body work, including shaving my head, and replacing my hair with a Dolly Parton wig, they handed me some clothes, and pointed me to a closet to put them on.

            'You'll have to remove the boxers," Dr. Silklin instructed, "but, we figured we'd give you that much privacy, anyway."

            "Thanks," I said, dryly.

            I went into the closet, and closed the door.  Okay, now, what did they have for me to wear?  A blue-jean skirt that was way too short (barely covered my genitalia), tan pantyhose (oh, joy), a tight, white sleeveless top, that also bared my shaven tummy, and a pair of slide on sandals with 2 1/2 inch heels.  I saw how serious they were about details, when packet slid under the door.  In the packet was a beaded necklace, some rings, and a gold chain anklet, with a heart charm attached.

            Still under the impression that this was all temporary, I put it all on, with no questions asked.

            I walked out of the room, and they all took it in with oohs and aahs, and then a great eruption of laughter.

            "Laugh all you want," I said.  "Go ahead, get it out.  Enjoy it while it lasts."

            "There's one last thing that we forgot," Dr. Silklin said.  "You'll need to sit back down in the chair."

            "Oh, great," my mood was very dry.  "What else?  Is my voice too low?  You gonna castrate me?"

            "No, silly," she said.  "The perfume."

            Perfume, too.  I should have known.

            I sat back down in the chair, as the sprayed perfume on me.

            "Now, lift your arms, so we can spray there, as well," one of the girls said.

            I lifted my arms, but while the girl was spraying, I felt cuffs go around my wrists, and heard them click, before I could react.

            The cuffs had been pre-attached to the back of the chair, and as I tried to pull, it was too late.  My wrists were secured, firmly, to the top of the chair.  They pulled my feet apart, and tied my ankles to metal handles, on either side of the chair, so that my feet hung beside the footrest.  The slip on sandals dangled on the ends of my toes.  They pulled seat belt like straps across my knees, waist, elbows, and just below my new breasts.

            I knew what was coming, and was fussing and fighting the entire time.  The quickly grew tired of my comments, and slapped a cloth gag into my mouth, covering it with duct tape.  After blindfolding me, I felt them put a set of headphones on my ears.  I then heard loud music playing.  It was some type of symphony, but it was so loud that it was all I could hear.  I couldn't hear their voices or movements around me.  So, let’s recap.  I'm dressed like Dolly Parton, strapped helplessly to the dentist’s chair, gagged, blindfolded, and headphoned.  I couldn't see, hear, or speak; only smell and feel.

            It was several minutes of agonizing anticipation, before I felt the sandal being slipped off of my feet.  Then within a matter of seconds, all hell broke loose.  Every one of the girls picked a spot and went to work.  I had ten fingers tickling each foot, fingers running all over my legs (sensitive from the shaving), poking, grabbing, and scratching my ribs and stomach, scratching my armpits (now extremely sensitive), and every other spot that they could find that seem to bring a ticklish response.

            I was in hysterics within seconds, choking on my intense laughter, and jerking violently, every which way, but loose.  There was not ticklish spot on my body, that didn't have at least ten fingers working at it.  The tickling on my armpits was unbearable.  The shaving had left them so sensitive, that the slightest touch was bringing unbelievable reactions.  The pantyhose seemed to make my feet more ticklish, than before.  I wet myself within minutes, and before too much longer, I had given up all struggles, and could lay and laugh.  This tickle torture wasn't as long as the one in psychology, because of all the time they had spent feminizing me.  Soon, all the tickling stopped, and the headphones came off.  I heard Dr. Silklin's voice, at my feet, and felt long nails start scratching the soles of my feet.  I was laughing insanely into the gag, but she was asking me questions as she tickled.

            "Now, Dez," she spoke.  "You want me to stop tickling you, don't you?"

            I nodded my head, violently, as she continued tickling and I continued laughing.

            "I will," she continued, "but, you've got to promise me something.  Can you make me a promise?"

            I continued nodding violently.

            "Every girl in this room has two outfits that they've selected to bring by your dorm room.  From now on, to be one of us, you're going to have to dress like one of us."

            "Is that understood?"

            I didn't want to nod, so I just laid there laughing, trying to jerk free.  She dug her fingernails in deeper, and sped up.

            "Understood?"  Her voice was louder and sterner.

            Willing to do anything to get her to stop tickling, I nodded.

            "You're going to need to keep yourself shaven; legs, underarms, chest, face, and all.  Like Dr. Taft's class, there is no dropping out.  Do you understand?"

            She dug in deeper, when I hesitated, forcing more violent nodding.

            "Hopefully, by next week, I'll have a better wig for you.  That's all I have, right now.  But, you can deal with that for a week, or so.  I'm sure."

            Finally, she stopped tickling my feet, and I felt bindings being removed.  When all my restraints had been removed, and the gag was removed, I spoke up.

            "You women are CRAZY!  You're even crazier if you think I'm gonna dress like a girl for the rest of the semester."

            "No," Dr. Silklin broke in.  "You would be crazy, not to.  Because, everyday that you don't, is gonna be another day like today.  So, you can do it yourself, or we'll do it for you.  And if we have to put you in the chair, we won't be finished until we've tickled the pee out of you again.  Understood?"

            I didn't want to give in, but I didn't want to have to go through that again.

            "Okay," I gave in.  "You win.  But, I do it under protest."

            "I wouldn't have it any other way," Dr. Silklin said, finishing with an evil laugh.

 

The End