Date: Sun, 3 Sep 2006 17:35:46 -0700 (PDT)
From: lauren westley <fundipity@yahoo.com>
Subject: Suddenly Part 2 The First Week by Lauren Westley TG

	(Authoress Comment: All disclaimers regarding all my writings hold
true here. If you think it was you or any character reminds you of someone
then I hope it?s with fond memories but it isn?t about you or them but
maybe it?s about me. ) This continuation is dedicated to all the wonderful
people who either commented, wrote me or IM'ed me about the enjoyment of
this particular story. Thank you so much. I am please to know we are
here. I've heard from so many subs but so few doms. To those doms out
there, "we submit." I can only hope this continuation meets with all your
approvals. (oh, I know I'm going to be spanked for grammatical and
punctuation errors.)
	Oh, one more thing. Mr. Smith had Michael sign over his bank
accounts at the very beginning (someone said I hadn't stated that and
therefore the first part was not believable. This story is not believable?
Mon Dieu!)  I just thought you had all figured Michael was without his
money as well as his future.
  fundipity@yahoo.com

July 18th ? evening blog

	This blog is the only thing that keeps me sane. At least I believe
someone is reading it. I don't really know since I just write it and
Mr. Smith says he posts it. Is it going to the whole internet world or just
to his crazy Roman men? Actually I don't know but I must believe in
something.
	Mr. Smith controls all my assets. He controls my legal fate. And
now, he is trying to control my soul.
	Again, I know why he picked me. At least I think I do. It's
because?.. (Censored by Mr. Smith).
	I don't even get to read my past blogs. I don't know what I've said
or to whom.
	Something completely different happened today. Well, something
different has been happening everyday since last week. It's not even a
week. Just five days and already I'm beginning to act like a Sandra.
	This morning I got up and could only think as I lay in bed in a
baby blue baby doll nightgown (Is that right? Is that what a girl says? A
baby blue baby doll? ) remembering, no tasting Mr. Smith's cum still in my
throat. Oh, I know it isn't possible. I know I brushed, mouth washed,
brushed again and again but I'm sure I can still taste the first cum that
has ever been in my mouth.
	I almost yelled out at the same time as I was brushing, "Fuck you
Mr. Smith.".
	Oh, I know you are once again saying, "You dumb asshole, run
away. Go to jail it is only 17 years." Or someone saying, "Well if the deal
had been for a month or a year than I'd understand." Yes, I can hear all of
you with the strength to rebel either yelling or laughing at me. I could
hear you when I was in third grade and Jeffery beat me up as you watched. I
didn't run then and I didn't fight then. And even today, I don't know why I
didn't just run away. Maybe you are all stronger then me.
	But, back to today. As I said, something different happened to me
today. Actually, several, something 'differents' happened today. First,
when I got out of bed I went to the bathroom and filled the tub with bubble
bath as if I did this everyday. I shaved my legs and arm pits again, as if
I had done this everyday in my life. Oh, I did shave my face which I have
been doing everyday. And though it wasn't much of a beard before, it was my
beard. Sometimes I wouldn't shave over the weekend. But this weekend and
everyday from now on, Mr. Smith had said I would shave my face twice a day.
	"Every time you shave Sandra you will see the woman underneath,"
Mr. Smith said. "Each time you pick up your fuchsia ladies razor you will
know you have the possibility of being a lady but you will never be treated
as one."
	What the hell am I thinking? I can't just have a morning shave? Oh,
where is Michael. Come out; Come out, all in for free.
	I got out of the tub and watched the water drip down my naked
hairless leg as I dried it. I looked at it resting on the tub and saw that
without hair it showed curves and was very feminine. I hadn't noticed that
before. Were there other men whose legs looked feminine when shaved? The
more I thought, the more an image of Arnold Schwarzenegger's leg
emerged. There was nothing feminine about his legs whether they were shaved
or not. Why were mine so girly like?
	And when did my ankles ever look so turned?
	 Next I was standing in front of the mirror drying off my hair and
face when I noticed my tan lines from yesterday. Naked I looked like I had
a bikini on. I moved the door behind me which had the full length mirror on
it so I could see my back. With the two mirrors facing each other I could
see the bra strap lines on my back and the bikini white ass of mine. I had
put that full length mirror in this bathroom for the women when they came
over. Now, I was the woman in the mirror.
	I looked at myself and saw my smooth hairless body. The white part
in front where the bra had been made my nipples stand out more. For some
reason I touched them. I had never seen myself tanned like this before but
now the contrast of my tan and the white skin from where the bra had been
made it appear I had small breasts. There even was a little dimension to
them. I guess that came from getting older and the contrast. My waist was
still trim. It had never really had gotten over 30 inches since I was in my
twenties. I guess because I had really watched my diet over the years. I
didn't eat junk food and I did exercise.
	Fuck it; it's time to, put on makeup? I walked out of the bathroom
naked with the thought of my tan lines burning a hole in my brain.
	None of you will believe this. And although I am not very good at
it, I have started to notice my lips look nicer when I put the base coat
on. Hmmm...What a girlyman statement that is. Oh no, Arnold's still poking
around in my head.
	This makeup thing sucks. Put on foundation. Do your eyes. Try doing
that. Placing your elbow on the makeup table and trying to draw a straight
line with eyeliner. What the hell did Mr. Smith think? I'm no Mondrian; I'm
more Picasso.
	Oh yes, I was trying to remember what my girlfriend called this
table. It's not a makeup table; it's a vanity. Guess I understand that
now. You have to be pretty vain to spend forty minutes of setting your
hair, brushing it out, fixing it to look nice. And that doesn't include
putting on your makeup.
	 Try that, you have foundation to apply, then putting some sort of
eye cream to lighten the bags under my eyes, drawing lines on my eyelids,
curling eyelashes, applying mascara, finishing face powder and then getting
to the lips.
	Lips! First draw a lipstick pencil line around the outside of your
lips. Then put on a little Vaseline on your lips but don't get it on the
lipstick pencil line you drew. How the fuck do you do that? And then, apply
the lipstick. Oh no, not the way I'd seen it in the movies. No, the girls
don't just rub the lipstick over their lips and then smush their lips
together. That would be too simple.
	Instead, you use a brush and take the lipstick off the stick and
paint it on your lips. When you are through with that you let it dry for a
minute. Then you take a single ply of tissue and momentarily put it over
your lips and dab some powder over it to set the base coat. And, still you
aren't through. Now you have to reapply the lipstick again to add the color
back and finally add lip gloss.
	Oh, and lipstick doesn't just last after that. You have to reapply
it every couple of hours and even more often if you use them. Ha, that's
why those girls eat the way they do and daintily blot their lips when they
are eating. And we haven't even discussed the finger and toe nails.
	Shit, no more talk of this. I'm not even sure why I said so much
but as I said before, if anyone is reading this, you are my only outside
contact.
	And what was my outfit for today. Great a white wrap skirt (are
there different names for different whites. I know cream but do they
delineate whites, fuck) and a fluffy lime blouse with short puffy sleeves.
No stockings (great news) and a pair of, no way, white three inch open toed
sandals with matching lime piping. For a moment I laughed thinking maybe I
should have my nails and lips in lime. What a fashion statement that would
be.
	After breakfast I came into the living room. There was a new full
length mirror in the corner of the room. It stood up by folding out; so
obviously it was portable. There was some sort of light around it which
emitted a glow. It didn't take long for me to find out why it was there.
	"Good Morning Sandra," Mr. Smith said.
	"Good Morning Mr. Smith," I replied.
	"Sandra, in the corner is a theater mirror. The lights you see on
currently reproduce the effect of indoor daytime light. You will find four
settings. Indoor day, Indoor evening, Outdoor sunny and Outdoor overcast.
	 I was thinking. This guy is nuts. He talks to me in that quiet
voice informing me about a mirror with some unique lighting capabilities.
	But then he said, "You will go over and stand in front of the
mirror for each setting of twenty minutes examining yourself. Look at your
makeup. Ask yourself, "did I put it on right?" Ask yourself, "Does this
makeup go with this lighting." When you are done you will sit down by the
desk and write about your observations under each setting. I expect at
least 150 words for each setting. You will write it in long hand and when
you are done you will edit it, correct it and then rewrite it without error
in ink and you will use a fountain pen. Your handwriting will be as
feminine as you can write it and you will start over if you make a mistake
either writing or a blotch of ink puddles because you pressed to hard on
the stylus. Also, the femininity of your handwriting will also be scored"
	Next thing you know I'm standing in front of the mirror looking at
myself as a woman. It is a full length mirror and I could see from the top
of my head to the tip of my red toenails. It was bewildering seeing myself
this way. How could this be me? Where was Michael? Not in this mirror. No,
the only echo from this mirror was, "You my queen are fair it's true but
Snow White is a thousand times fairer than you." Well of course she
is. Snow White was a real girl.
	My mind was playing tricks with me ten minutes into the mirror
ordeal. Wait! I noticed something, Although I looked pretty good my posture
wasn't right. I wasn't standing right. I tried different poses and finally
I nearly asked the damn mirror again, "Who's the fairest of them all."
	But before I did, Mr. Smith came over and changed the lighting to
Indoor evening. He didn't say a word and walked away. Now, that was
strange, I didn't look as good as I did in the Indoor daytime setting. I
seemed to be missing something. Yes, I was missing a little more color or
something.
	And the next two settings showed even different flaws in my
makeup. Standing for an hour and twenty minutes looking at yourself is
tedious but the next two hours were even worse. Sitting at the desk and
writing about the different lighting effects was immensely time
consuming. But writing in long hand with a fountain pen as a woman both in
dress and supposedly in penmanship drained me. Twice I had to throw out one
of the pages and start over again. This happened almost right away on the
first page. I tried to concentrate on my penmanship from the nuns in third
grade. Eventually I did get a very feminine handwriting. And the other
mistake came then later when on the last page I started to write a bit
scratchy from my wrist getting tired.
	Finally I brought the four sheets of paper, six hundred forty-nine
words, to Mr. Smith. He motioned me to stand on his right facing out and
then he took the papers from me. As he began reading he put his other hand
under my skirt and gently rubbed around my ass and thighs. Nothing more
than this but it was still more than enough.
	 In order to accept this I, Michael, was slipping further and
further away. Sandra was standing there now. And then I snapped back to
reality as Mr. Smith finished and said, "Sandra go get into your bikini,
fix me a sandwich, a yogurt for you and meet me out by the pool."
	He tapped my ass as he finished talking and took his hand out from
under my skirt. I walked back in small steps, my face blushing a bit and
glad he couldn't see it, to my room.
	When I got to my room I sat down and tried to think of the many
changes to my life that were occurring. I'd lived my whole life as a man
and now in just a few days I found small parts of my behaviour changing. My
reactions to things were definitely different. Since I had accepted this
five year sentence as opposed to the alternatives I found I was glancing in
the mirror as I walked by. When I was standing in front of the mirror I
thought my eyebrows needed a little plucking. Putting on lipstick I really
saw my lips as I had never seen them before. I had never noticed where my
lower lip ended and, what would call it, my upper jaw began; but I did
notice it now. There was a distinct line where you put lip
liner. Interesting.
	Ten minutes later I was in the kitchen in my bikini making
Mr. Smith his lunch. Shortly after that I was outside in my bikini
tanning. Mr. Smith had given me some tanning spray and instructions on
turning over etc. He put a little timer next to me and for the next two
hours I felt like one of those chickens you see on a spit. Shit, a chicken
is a girl, couldn't I come up with a more manly analogy.
	It's amazing how quickly you begin to develop a new routine. By now
I didn't even think of my job that I had quit last week. I never really
liked going to work everyday anyhow. That was the main reason I had set up
my little scheme. My scheme which had now gone so terribly awry.
	My phone didn't ring which was surprising. I thought someone would
call from work but they didn't. My mother and father had both passed away
and I was estranged from my crazy sister. Well, I guess I'd be considered
the crazy one if she could see me now. But, she had gone off over 15 years
ago with some drifter. I sent her money at first but for the past seven
years we hadn't gotten in touch. This happened shortly after our mother
died and her estate was settled. And don't get some great idea about the
word estate. She didn't leave much. My father had passed away two years
before my mother and his illness had consumed much of the meager savings
their lives at work had produced.
	Actually, once when my father talked about how little he made when
he first started working I thought the greatness of capitalism is its
ability to diminish the savings of its' workers through inflation. Oh,
sorry, I have very unique idea on that subject.
	When I went in to take a bath I took off my bikini and I looked a
little darker but I knew with my skin I'd be much darker tomorrow
morning. Except for those areas which were covered. These would be a
constant reminder. Especially since I was one of those fair skinned blondes
who tanned dark.
	As I stood there looking so feminine in my nakedness I was
humiliated since there was nothing I could do to wash it off. I can't even
explain it to you but believe me I looked like a pussy with a big
clit. Especially the way my pubic hairs were in a little patch. But, how
could I be a pussy I thought, even though I was only adequately endowed, at
least I had a penis. Well five and a half inches is adequate isn't it. I
use to think so but now I thought of Mr. Smith's cock. It was much bigger
and thicker then mine. Yes, his was a cock.
	Only one more thing rounded out this day. After dinner I went into
the living room carrying Mr. Smith's coffee. I was wearing what I've heard
girls call 'their little black dress.' The dress had a plunging neck line
but I didn't have any cleavage to do it justice. And the dress was
backless. In the mirror I noticed I had a feminine back or at least I
didn't look like Brad Pitt or, no, Arnold.
	Mr. Smith motioned me to sit on the floor next to him. I began to
ask why but he put his forefinger to his lips and it just silenced
me. Right now I'm wondering why he makes me succumb so easily. I want to
fight more. Tomorrow I'll tell him. Tomorrow I'll be stronger.
	But, sitting there Mr. Smith went over my mirror report. There in
my own handwriting were comments about my eyebrows needing to be plucked
and eyeliner used. Also, my comment regarding I needed more color at
nighttime indoors? And some powder to take the shine off my face outside in
the sun. It's amazing how much you can say in six hundred words.
	After he was through I sat shocked as Mr. Smith finished the
night's instructions with the comment. "Girl, it was a good report. Now,
take you own advice. Remember what cosmetics you need when you go outside
and what to use when getting ready for dinner. There's still plenty to
learn but you still have plenty of time. You've come along nicely Sandra
but you can do better. You know you can."
	With those comments I felt two things. First, I really could do
better and second a bit of pride over my report by Mr. Smith's compliments.

July 19th ? evening blog

	I can't believe it. As I sit here writing this blog I realize
tomorrow will mark a week in the change of my life.
	Yes, I was right. This morning after I bathed, shaved, and dried
off I looked in the mirror. Now I was much darker. My breasts were even
more pronounced and the bikini bottom could never be mistaken for a tan a
guy gets.
	Also Mr. Smith had put a note on my vanity telling me what to
wear. I found the hobble dress in the closet. I guess from now on I would
get my clothes from the closet. If you don't know what a hobble dress is I
suggest you look it up because I didn't know what it was until I read
Mr. Smith's note. His note said the dress would help teach me how to walk
as a woman. One thing to be sure of, put the dress on after everything else
is on and I mean everything including your heels. You cannot do much once
this dress is on. It's completely constrictive.
	This dress makes you move in short steps. I was so unsteady I
nearly dropped Mr. Smith's breakfast twice.
	"Do you notice how that dress makes you walk in shorter, more
feminine steps Sandra?" Mr. Smith commented when I entered his room. (Now
why am I calling it 'his room'?)
	As I tried to put the tray down I could neither bend over nor
crouch down. "Mr. Smith, what should I do," I asked.
	"Nothing Sandra, just stand there and hold the tray and be quiet,"
Mr. Smith replied.
	And then for the next ten minutes he got up went into the bathroom,
washed his face and took a piss. I could hear him running the water and
pissing in the toilet while I stood there with the tray in my hands. Fuck,
this submissive stuff just bends your brain.
	Finally Mr. Smith came back into the room in his robe and took the
tray from me saying, "Thank you Sandra. You are dismissed."
	I walked, if you call it that, out of the room thinking,
dismissed. Ha, like some ghetto language he sure did 'dis the miss." At
least this kind of thinking made me laugh and made things a bit more
bearable.
	Not much happened the rest of the morning except for my walking in
a hobble dress. It wasn't until I was out tanning myself that afternoon
that the next horrific act occurred. I was lying face up with my eyes
closed when all of a sudden I felt some gunk splatter on my face. I peeked
out of my eyes since some of it had landed there and through the
translucency stringing from my upped eyelash to the lower eyelash I could
see him, well his cock. He had just cum on my face. Can you believe it? No
warning. Nothing! He must have come over to me while he was beating off. I
had never heard him approach.
	"Sandra, rub my cum into your face and lie there in the sun until
the alarm says to turn over. And leave it on until you go clean up later,"
Mr. Smith commanded.
	I felt bad enough a few days ago having to swallow his cum. That
was probably worse but right now this felt disgraceful. Rubbing some guys
cum in 'my' face and then letting it cook in the sun. The odor permeating
my nostrils as I lay there revolted.
	Not much happened later that day except for me having to watch
video tips on, 'applying lipstick and other continuing education course on
cosmetics. Also there was a video on accessorizing.
	Crap, I never felt like accessorizing but the video was nearly a
half hour long.  I didn't want to feel like a fag. So I just thought of
myself as a girl.
	I'm pretty sure gays don't want to be thought of or called fags
either. It is probably quite a derogatory statement from someone
straight. However, I guess it's acceptable if one of them says it to the
other. I don't know why people categorize other people.
	A friend of mine, Duane said, "You don't need to put a label on
hamburger for someone to pick it up and eat it." Duane says things like
that. It's different from the way you would word it but it makes just as
much sense and sometimes it sounds even nicer.
	As a woman I could watch the videos. As a man I couldn't. So I
watched them on my laptop sitting at my vanity glancing in the mirror from
time to time.
	Again, I thought, I'm going to get this right. Maybe I can even
enjoy being a woman. "No," Michael told me. "Yes," Sandra said.

July 20th ? evening blog

	Well, this was my one week anniversary and Mr. Smith celebrated
with quite a few changes.
	First, in the morning, when I got up Mr. Smith's note simply said,
"pick out your own outfit today Sandra. Be creative."
	So, it was my choice. I went to the closet before I even thought
about bathing. There was a choice and it would be mine. Wow!
	Opening the closet door I saw three outfits. The first was white
ruffled short sleeve blouse with a short (almost mini) berry rouge tie
string skirt. The tag said Newport News. Next to that was the hobble
dress. And then there was this dress from some company called Coldwater
Creek. It said on the tag Paisley Perfection. It was two pieces and the
skirt part was very long. I thought it looked terrible.
	So I decided to wear the Newport News sexy little outfit. Later I
wondered about my decision. Why did I choose a sexy outfit over the more
conservative one? Oh, and I'm sure you knew I wasn't going to wear that
hobble dress unless I had to.
	There was also a box on the floor marked 'accessories.' Inside were
some things I didn't understand and some I did. I won't take you through
every thing but suffice it to say the shawl must have been for that ugly
dress. The gold ankle bracelet and pink choker were obviously for the
outfit I picked out. Picking out the earrings was easy part. One pair had
pink circles with a matching bracelet. I guess this was accessorizing!
	Well, I took my bath. I shaved both my face and legs. Well, if I
was going to wear that short skirt without any stockings I couldn't do it
without my legs looking good. Especially since there was this bottle of
Sally Hansen Airbrush Leg spray I had seen on the counter in the bathroom
the other day.
	About forty-five minutes later I was ready to get Mr. Smith's
breakfast. That was the fastest I had been ready on any day. I must be
getting better at this.
	Which brings up this thought? Do you think I sound different? I
mean the way I am writing these blogs?
	The reason I ask was a compliment Mr. Smith gave me after breakfast
about my blogs. He said I was writing more maturely. He also said I seemed
more attentive and that this would make my time go better.
	Several other things happened today as well. Mr. Smith said
starting tomorrow night I would be able to view my account and see my money
grow over the years.
	"As you see the amount of money which will be yours I think you
will find these years to be more than worthwhile," Mr. Smith said. "The
Romans were very generous with the women they used."
	Well, money did appeal to me. In case you forgot that's what got me
into the mess to begin with.
	The morning was spent on a new task. Mr. Smith had me sit down at
my laptop and gave me a software DVD, a microphone connected to a
headphone. When the software loaded a screen came up saying, "How to Sound
like a Woman." At the same time a feminine voice said the same words in my
ears through the headphone.
	My eyes nearly popped out of their socket. Was there no end to
this? Then the next screen explained how I would be instructed to use the
microphone and repeat several phrases in a feminine voice after a lesson
had showed me how best to use my voice. Also, apparently I would not move
on to the next lesson until I had successfully completed the one before.
	Mr. Smith had explained the course would be in two parts with a
break for lunch. If I worked hard each part would last an hour and a
half. But if I didn't it could take until I got it right and I would miss
lunch.
	With my headphones on and mic near my mouth I began. Of course the
first lesson was for me to say, "Hi, my name is Sandra." You can't believe
how difficult it was for me to say 'Sandra' in any voice. I nearly cried as
my voice crackled out the words the first time. The voice in my headset and
the screen in front of me said, "Sorry, please try again." After six times
a little green box with a check mark and the word correct came up on the
screen and in my ear I heard, "very good, girl."
	What I found out later was the twenty question test at the end of
each part was even more demanding than I had thought. Each question you got
wrong you had to go back to the section it came from and review that
phrase. This was not a pass fail course. It was a perfect score or repeat.
	Saying my name Sandra was the hardest ordeal. On the test I failed
and had to go back twice before it had been implanted in the audible part
of my brain. It was better if I went slow, enunciated each word and
although I didn't have a woman's soprano I did manage an alto tenor to alto
voice. I sounded a bit like Kathleen Turner in some TV show I had
seen. This needs improvement I thought.
	By 3:30 I was outside (I missed lunch but you knew I would) tanning
myself yet again. Mr. Smith said I would only have the one bikini so the
tan lines would always match. He said to be careful the bikini fit
perfectly over the old lines.
	By 9pm I was giving Mr. Smith a blowjob. I had realized this was
going to be something I would be doing so there was no point objecting. I
just thought 'girl' and did it. Yes I swallowed.

July 21st ? evening blog

	Oh shit. Oh shit. This couldn't have happened. I got up this
morning and the only outfit was the hobble dress so I put it on. I went in
to fix Mr. Smith breakfast but he was already in the kitchen. He
blindfolded me and said he wanted to take me out to the driveway for a
surprise.
	Oh?shit..shit?..we got out to the driveway and I heard an engine
idling. Mr. Smith opened the door and said for me to get in. I didn't know
where we were going but I seemed to obey even more frequently now.
	The car door shut. There was a knock on the window and I heard the
window come down. Then Mr. Smith's voice said, "Sandra, take your blindfold
off."
	I did and saw Mr. Smith standing outside and I was inside alone in
the back of a limousine. The window was down about 6 inches.
	Mr. Smith simply said, "And now Sandra it's time for you to meet
and live with your Romans."
	With that the window of the limo rolled up. I tried the handle to
get out but it must have had childproof locks because it wouldn't open. The
window between me and the driver was up and dark. The limousine started to
move forward. I felt the bump when we left my driveway onto the public
road. "Where were we going," I thought nervously?
	Sitting back I began to cry.

(The rest of this blog will come with the third part of 'Suddenly'.) I can
only hope you all like this so far. And there will be much more sex
coming. I told everyone this would develop much more slowly. So hopefully I
haven't lost to many readers yet. lauren fundipity@yahoo.com