Date: Sun, 15 Mar 2009 09:44:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: jimiboygirl@yahoo.com
Subject: Jimi's Secret Diary/  Jimi's Rite of Spring - after the Spring Dance - Part 6

Please feel free to offer a critique: jimiboygirl@yahoo.com

Part 6

yes it was still rather early as these things go, i suppose; about 12:30 am
to be precise, and as 'reggie' had pointed out, there was a lot to do. i
could only imagine what may lay in store for yours truly. we had about ten
hours left before our magical coaches turned back into the pumpkins, and
this newly minted cinderella sissy wasn't the slightest bit fatigued.

the bath, the dramatic removal of my pubic hair, the lipstick and makeup,
the pretty underwear, all the attention -- and "everything else", had
invigorated me no end. the stimulation of the previous two and one half
hours had awakened every fiber in my being. i was relaxed and excited at
the same time. i tingled, i glowed, i lusted. my new friends, especially
ken and regina, had opened new doors for me. the doors, i was learning, had
always been there, and not that far beneath the surface of my skin, my
inner yearnings, and my imagination. these new acquaintances had simply
provided the keys and opened the lock.

regina busied herself, her back to me, rooting through drawers and first
aid kits and medicine cabinet shelves in the bathroom, removing unseen
items and placing them on towel.

she was talking to herself as she searched, in a low voice:

hmmmmm. yes. this is good. what's this? yes. okay, yep. wonder if she keeps
any (unintelligible). oh yeah, here it is.

her voice trailed off.

i gotta piss, she said, rather vulgarly... so much like a boy, i thought. i
was totally surprised on what came next. she yanked down her (my) boxers to
her ankles and stood before the toilet. she then lifted the lid...and the
seat (!)

i admired her behind. like mine it was rather small, but thinner in the
buttocks. it was creamy white, with cute dimples. not too fleshy, it
nevertheless looked just as soft as it had felt. she had very little in the
way of hips, but rather her torso was nearly straight up and down from
shoulder to ass, with an almost imperceptible tapering at the waist and
flaring slightly to her hips. i suppose she was like an elongated pear with
her bottom being the soft juicy flesh. another reference to succulent
fruit?

she removed one foot from the boxers and then, straddling and only slightly
squatting over the toilet bowl's center, she placed her hnds in front of
herself, unseen to me, then urinated from a standing position! i had never
seen or heard anything remotely like this before.

was she holding an imaginary penis? from my vantage point her hands
certainly looked to be doing so. then it dawned on me that what she MUST be
doing is holding her labia wide open so that the flow from her urethra to
the bowl would be unimpeded and straight.

i had heard my mother on the toilet, of course. the un-selfconsciousness of
mother using our home's only toilet as her young son bathed
nearby. mother's tinkling usually began with a slight hissing sound as the
urine left her bladder and flowed into and through her urethra, followed by
the tell-tale high, random-sounding upper register piano notes as the water
from her bladder descended into the toilet bowl, fueled only by
gravity. such is the nature of a leisurely feminine 'tinkle'.


the sound of regina tinkling, however was unlike a boy's steady flow of
alternating treble and bass notes, but also very unlike a girl's normally
musical piano notes. she was a true in-betweener, i guess, as she had
stated earlier in reference to the condition her pubic hair grooming
habits.

as her legs were wide open, i could plainly see the strong yellow stream as
she bore down and forced it out quickly, miming the piss flow of a male.

the flow ebbed of course, and her femininity betrayed her in a mocking
fashion as the slowing drip drip drip of female urination signaled the end
of this most basic body function.

she actually wiggled her bottom to shake off the last few drops, just like
a boy would do. she did not wipe herself with paper either, as i had
witnessed mother do many many times. another shock.

regina peed in the opposite fashion i did, given the privacy to do so.
when alone, i would lower my panties to my knees, which, along with my
thighs were touching each other, while my calves and feet flared out in
opposing directions, just as i had seen mother do.

i would also gather some toilet paper in my free hand, (the other hand, of
course, pressing or directing the head of my tiny cock downward between my
legs during the course of the act itself, and when finished, gently dab the
tip of myself, drying it both delicately and properly. of course, i rarely
looked into the bowl afterward, but flushed it during the act of rising,
raising and adjusting my panties, and then immediately lowering the lid, as
a lady might.

boys would stare at their streams of piss and attendant bubbles and foam,
totally engrossed, perhaps waving the stream in an undulating fashion,
knocking off bits of debris that might have adhered to the bowl, or in
order to move a scrap of toilet paper around and around, taking target
practice.

girls just allowed the stuff to leave their bodies in a vertical fashion.

regina flushed the toilet and yanked up her boxers, quickly washed her
hands, dried them, and went back to her task, whatever that was.

i sat on the stool, in the candle glow, absentmindedly gathering bits of
wax and hair, standing and flushing them down the toilet, when it became
available.

goodbye, pubes! farewell!

i then moved and stood before the full length bathroom mirror, gazing at my
naked (but for turban) reflection, and as i looked upon my odd and newly
sensual body, turning first this way and then that way admiring myself, my
mind began to drift again...

inspecting myself it seemed that mother nature, simultaneously denying me
the manly swagger associated with owning a long, thick, heavy penis, a
hairy pair of large and swinging sweaty balls, or having a tall and
hirsute, muscular physique, or a deepening voice, or a competitive,
sports-driven nature like other kids my age -- had also conversely blessed
me with a sensitivity seemingly uncommon in boys in those days (i often
silently cried watching sentimental old movies about love and
longing... even films such as 'a tree grows in brooklyn', 'national velvet'
and 'lassie' had me constantly reaching for a hanky). some of my other
secret interests included a fondness for romantic poetry, trashy
bodice-ripper paperbacks (she initially resisted sir ashley's embrace but
very soon lady penelope found herself melting in his firm and masculine
grip, unable to ward off his ardour, etc. etc. etc.), as well as slow love
songs, art, nature, and yes, dare i say it?
 ... womens fashion.

my inner self, coupled with the outward evidence: smooth alabaster skin,
lightly freckled shoulders, large and lovely-lashed blue eyes, and a
paucity of chest and pubic hair (or arm and leg hair for that matter), was
most definitely feminine. it was true that i had developed some underarm
and pubic hair, but it was soft, fair, and sparse.

i lifted an arm to review my armpit. a soft cloud of nearly invisible pale
fuzz nested there. i would ask reggie for her sage advice on that
shortly. i had noticed that her own armpits featured a nearly identical
amount of the same soft fur. obviously, she didnt regularly shave her
armpits, like the other girls. she had a southern european-style amount of
body hair that she merely accepted as a natural part of herself. given the
fact that she identified as a boy to a large extent, it was only natural
for her to want to keep it, a badge of masculinity.

as i studied myself in that mirror i determined that mother nature had also
endowed me with a slightly odd distribution of body fat (more than normal
on the hips and upper thighs, a soft and jiggly little belly, a navel known
as an 'inny', a firm and rounded derriere -- which lent the appearance --
especially from a rear view -- of a fair and slender girl emerging from
adolescence into young womanhood.

even my thin chest had very slight -- miniscule -- distributions of
rounding puppy fat (my mothers term), which might be construed by
aficionados as the budding of tiny breasts, or by the less sympathetic or
well-informed, as a flatchested young woman's life-long 'curse.'

my coloring -- an inheritance from english stock mixed with the extreme
fairness associated with irish people of norse descent -- ensured that the
overall hue of other body parts was limited to what was once called 'rosy'.

by that i mean that the extreme points of my body: genitalia, nipples,
ears, fingers and toes, had a slightly pinkish tone overall.

my lips were like my mothers: rather embarrassingly full for a boy and a
darkish pink. i puckered up and made an imaginary kiss to my
reflection. yes. i had cocksuckers lips. my mouth was formed for accepting
and accommodating, and satisfying the male penis. i had proved that
recently, both to myself and to the recipients of my favors.

my areolae, roughly about one half of an inch in diameter, seemed to be
standard boy-issue. pink and nondescript. perhaps a little puffier than
most. but the nipples. my my my. the nipples themselves were like little
berries. these nipples were full. these berries were ripe. slightly
oversized. these nip-nips were made to feed an infant. i noticed earlier
that they hardened and darkened when lovingly stroked, rubbed, or
touched. they had even seemed to grow, but surely i had imagined
that. these were not the nipples of an all-american boy. these belonged to
a girl. regina would have loved to own these beauties, i imagined. i shot
her a glance as she worked. our eyes met in the mirror over the sink. she
smiled. i blushed and smiled in return. was she a mind reader?

i turned my back to the full length mirror and held my white buttocks open,
looking over my shoulder and liked what i saw. that was a girls ass. even
my anus, viewed in a hand-held mirror once, was naturally hairless and a
medium shade of pink.

not for me the brownish nipples and anal orifice of a latin or italian or
greek, nor the exotic dark or purply-violet bits of an african or east
indian, but decidedly, pleasingly, pink. in a word...rosy.

i turned again and contemplated for the millionth time my tiny penis... now
shorn of most of its golden hair. small, plump and mostly 'head' it
resembled nothing so much as one of those oversized gumdrops available at
specialty candy shops at the local mall. in fact, i used to buy those in
very great quantity, and when not a self-service establishment, blushing
and shyly, awkwardly, nervously asking the clerk (it was always a young and
pimply male clerk, wasnt it? whatever must he have thought of me?) for red
ones and pink ones and those pale purple ones exclusively. okay. i confess
it... i was very fond of black ones too. not for their flavors, my goodness
no, but for the colors themselves. i would happily pop one in my mouth in
the darkness of a theater, or while avidly reading a love scene .. or while
idly stroking myself or masturbating(!) and allow the rough sugar-granule
coating to slowly melt on my tongue until the large fat gumdrop was smooth
and
 slick and like... well i think you know what i thought it was like! i
recommend you to please do try this if you enjoy this story. to this day i
keep some gumdrops close by my computer. the trick, of course, is to allow
the gumdrop to remain whole as you roll it around and around in your mouth,
running your tongue over and over it, sucking its goodness. the really hard
part is avoiding the natural inclination to sink your teeth into it and
BITE it and chew it and swallow it quickly and then have another one....and


zhee-mee? zhee-mee? earth to zhee-mee.

what? it was regina, bringing me out of my reverie.

yes regina?

wow. where WERE you girl?

oh, just daydreaming, reggie.

no kidding! i was saying i think we have just about everything we need. but
i would like to do your hair for you now. okay?



you're not going to cut it or anything, are you, reggie?

course not, silly girl. i just want to style it a little.

how so?

well, id like to change your part to the other side of your head, first of
all. if you noticed anything, a lot of girls part their hair on the left
side, rather than the right. i want to make it higher, too, perhaps just
off center.

as she said these things, she was opening a jar of a 60s-ers styling gel
called 'dippity-do' ... it was all the rage, then. women in america were
beginning to get away from permanent waves, and the younger girls were
leading this fashion charge.

now then, where should we start?

she spread the gel into my hair and worked it right into the scalp. almost
instantly, my hair began to set. as this was happening reggie combed my
hair in the opposite way i had always worn it, indeed going to the left
side with a very high, off center part.

she then combed the hair forward so that i had a fringe at the front: a
huge and immediate change. i think i mentioned earlier that the beatles had
arrived and their (then outrageous) 'look' had influenced fashion. as a
result, boys were starting to wear their hair longer. my own hair just
touched my short collar; a radical departure formt he well groomed
brylcreem-dominated 1950s.

would you mind if i cut perhaps half an inch from your fringe, jimi? it
wont be noticeable at school if you go back to your everyday way of combing
it, but tonight it will make huge difference in your appearance. what do
you say?

well, what could i say? her instincts and urgings had certainly paid off
for me so far.

okay, reggie. but not too much. okay?

she nodded and a few seconds later, strands of gelled hair fell from the
front of my head.

in the mirror, the fring had taken on a semi circular appearance. i liked
it.

she then combed the sides of my hair forward on my face.

can i trim these just a tad?

i nodded.

snip snip. the semi circular effect was added to the sideburns portion of
my face. my hair had a high, off-center left part, a semi circular fringe
on my forehead that also swept forward on the sides, a la julius caesar.

she used a teasing comb on the rear of my head and brought the hair out in
what would later be called an afro.

not girly enough. hmmmm. i know!

she went to the vanity drawer and brought out a selection of hair
barrettes.

which do you prefer?

there was a plain black one, another black one with orange tiger stripes,
some that were called tortoise shell, plus several party-style ones, which
i liked at first sight.

i immediately selected the wide blue one. it was a three inch long by one
half inch wide curved barrette with little blue and white rhinestones
sprinkled on it.

how about this one, reggie?

good choice, jimi. it will bring out your baby blues!

she slid the barrette into place, closed the clasp and made a final
adjustment. then she turned on one of those new hand-held hair dryers and
ran the airflow at a low speed and temperature all around my head, bringing
the dippity-do hair gel to a dry, yet glossy finish.

i touched my hair, it was firm. the fringe stayed in place. the top of my
crown came out in a short and spiky halo. the high off-center left parting
had changed my face remarkably. it looked so odd. but i liked the overall
effect. it was definitely NOT a boys hair style. i was 'all-set'.

she asked me to sit still for a moment while she returned to the
bedroom. when she came back she had a jewelry box in her hands.

there is a nice selection of clip on earrings here jimi. pick out a pair
you like and just clip them on, like this. its easy, see?

she demonstrated how they worked. it looked simple enough.

i chose a pair of round and gold dangly ones. slave earrings.

how about these, reggie?

they dont look tooooo bad, jimi, she said, holding them to my ears, but i
could tell that she didnt really care for them

but how about these? she suggested, holding out a pair of tear-drop shaped
pearls with rhinestone clusters, which sparkled in the candle light. they
seemed to go pretty well with the barrette.

okay reggie. yes. i like them.

this necklace will go well with them.

it was along strand of plain pearle, perhaps a three foot long loop.

go ahead and put them on.

i simply placed them around my neck. a long loop of pearls.

you'll trip over those jimi. they need to be made shorter.

how?

like this.

she placed the loop around my neck, folded it over onto itself and lopped
that loop over my head again and down onto my neck. then she repeated that
step once more, looping one more time. it made for an effect of a triple
loop of pearls, which coincidentally covered my small adams apple.

voila!

i smiled. i clipped on the earrings. i thought looked suddenly glamorous.

now for some other basic cosmetic work.

by that i had thought she meant more lipstick but she had a different idea.

i need you to stand, love.

i did as she requested and then reggie took my place on the stool.

open your legs a bit, like you are riding a horse.

i did so.

she had a roll of surgical tape and some scissors. she snipped off a few
lengths of the white tape and placed them onto her boxers.

i watched her in the large mirror

she placed her hand on my testicles and brought them backward, beneath my
anus. they were small and easily workable. she applied some tape to the
scrotum on the left and gently fastened it high to the back of my leg to
the left. she then gently lifted the right testicle and taped that section
of the scrotum to the top of the right side of that leg.

my balls looked like tiny pink plums attached to my behind.

she then pulled my little penis back and taped that in palce between the
two testicles so that ir pointed more or less backward.

how does that feel jimi? does it hurt?

no, reggie, it feels like normal. i can feel a draft though!

she giggled at that.

now stand very still. jimi. please do not move at all.

she removed the top from a lipstick. it was a shade of coral pink popular
then. she smeared some lipstick over the head of my penis, and worked the
color in with a tissue.

my penis head was now a bright pink! it jutted backward, right below my
anus. it looked like the bright, colored genitalia of a female baboon or
other exotic primate.

kens mother has extravagant tastes. this stuff is waterproof,
jimi. verrrrry expensive. its made for use at the pool or the beach. it
will stay on a long time and shouldnt smear.

now turn to face me, love.

i obeyed, of course.

she took a dark gray eyebrow pencil and drew an arc beneath that space on
my left that might be called my breast, had i real breasts. she repeated
the process on the right. she took the same tissue she used on my penis
head and blended the gray pencil arc into the coral pink color and
described the arc, blending, rubbing, blending, rubbing. when she had
finished, the illusion of pale shadows beneath three dimensional (but tiny)
tits was startling!

now, for the nipples!

she took the coral pink tissue and describing circles on me, multiplied the
area of my areolae by a factor of two. my nipples were now seemingly one
inch in diameter!

i think they need to be a little darker, she said. there is insufficient
contrast.

she removed a darker lipstick and lightly applied that directly to the
nipple, and smeared it outward, working it into my pale skin. when she had
done the other one, my new and very large nipples were now a pleasing shade
of dark pink. they seemed to like it too as they were in their former
berry-ripe and tingly state.

wow, reggie...was all i could manage to say.


okay now. we are almost there. moving the stool after rising, she said, sit
over here, with your back to the mirror. i want the effect to be a total
surprise for you.

of course, i was so tingly and giddy i did exactly as requested.

standing over me she whispered okay cinderella, now close your eyes.

before complying i peeked down the top of her undershirt as she bent over
me, cosmetic brush in hand. her own small rosy nipples were fully erect,
straining, nearly bursting. she was clearly enjoying this every bit as much
as i was.

my god, i thought, i wish had tits just like hers.

i slowly closed my eyes.

i had to rely on my other senses.

i felt the brush gently working on each cheek. this seemed to go on
forever.

i felt a fingertip slowly massaging each eyelid in turn. this lasted
perhaps a minute.

i felt my lashes being touched ...by what? another brush? a smaller one
perhaps.

i felt a what seemed to be a tiny wet paintbrush, moving left to right,
right to left along the edge of each eyelid. this sensation lasted... what?
perhaps another minute? i could not swear how long this step lasted. i had
lost all sense of time.

open.

i opened my eyes. reggie was smiling, broadly. i could now see the small
brush she had used earlier. it was a mascara brush, loaded with shiny black
liquid. she held it as surgeon might wield a scalpel.

i need to do the bottom lashes now zhee-mee.

move your eyes up. not your head. thats right. just look up.

i felt rather than saw her apply the color. i felt the lashes being touched
and touched again, very delicately.

okay. close.

i closed my eyes.

pucker up for me baby.

i pursed my lips, eyes closed.

she kissed me. it felt nice.

sorry. couldnt resist. okay. hold that pucker, lover.

i did so. i felt and smelled the wax and scent of lip color being
applied. she seemed to go past the natural limits of my already over-sized
lips.

please open your mouth.

i did.

okay tamp down. we are blotting the excess color, baby.

okay. youre done!

now, keep your eyes closed and count aloud to two hundred. when you are
finished, please join me in the bedroom for the final stage.

ready? start.

one one hundred, two one hundred, three one hundred, four one hundred, five
one hundred, six...

i heard the bathroom door opening and softly closing.

seven one hundred...eight, nine....

and so on.

an eternity later...

one hundred ninety nine one hundred, two hundred!

i opened my eyes. the candles were gone. the nightlight was burning. i
turned on the main overhead lighting and looked into the mirror.

oh... my... god.


continued.

email me with comments, critiques, lewd suggestions or offers of marriage!

jimiboygirl@yahoo.com