F aye was really beginning to bloom into a gurl. She had a lot to work on but was certainly putting herself into the effort. I needed to keep helping her gain confidence and knew that would come.

"You said you weren't very confident with your voice," I mentioned.

"Yes," Faye confirmed, "I've been practicing reciting lines and it comes out good sometimes, but other times not so much."

"You just have to keep practicing," I said, "Try singing instead of reciting lines."

"Singing?" she protested, "I can't carry a tune in a basket!"

"It doesn't matter," I said, "You won't be heard by anyone. Just pick songs you like – it's easier and less boring than reciting lines."

Faye agreed to try it. She slipped on her heels and practiced walking as I stood next to her. She held my arm like we were walking in public.

We agreed to go back to the Goodwill store. While she got the basics last time, she wanted to get a few additional items and really loved the prices. She hoped the same saleswoman would be there as last time – she was so helpful.

"Before we go out," I said, handing her a bag, "I want you to have these."

Faye opened the bag to find breast forms that I'd bought her. She hugged and kissed me, and then proceeded to slip them into her bra.

She showed herself off to me, arching her back slightly to accentuate her breasts. "How do they look?"

"They look just fine," I assured them, "Lots of people are obsessed with big bazookas, but they just don't look natural. Many genetic women have small breasts, and you'll be a little ahead of them."

Faye smiled and put her shoes on, in preparation for departure. We had lunch a Mexican "mom and pop" restaurant that wasn't fancy, but had great food.

As we ate, Faye disclosed that she had an appointment with a therapist, and asked if I would go with her.

"I can take you," I said, "And if you want, I can go in with you."

"I'd like that," she said, "Can you actually go into the session with me, or will you have to stay in the waiting room?"

"That's up to the therapist," I explained, "Most will allow it, but they might want to talk with you alone, to make sure it's what you really want."

"How could your being there be a problem?" she asked.

"They will want you to talk freely and not be inhibited by anyone else," I replied, "Let's just see how it goes."

"But if I'm there by myself," she said, "I might not know what to say."

"Just tell her some of the things you told me," I said, "That since you were a child you felt you were really a girl, and the feeling has grown stronger over time. They mainly want to know that it's something you really want, and not an idle curiosity."

"I suppose I can do that," Faye agreed, "But I'd feel better if you were there."

After lunch we went to the Goodwill store and were pleased to find the same saleswoman as last time. She greeted us warmly and complimented Faye on how pretty she looked. She helped Faye pick out a small purse and handbag, along with a couple of pretty scarfs. Then a few sweaters. The sales lady handed me a slip of paper with the name, number and address for a hair stylist that specializes in people like Faye.

After shopping we returned to Faye's apartment and reviewed some of the basic feminine mannerisms – sitting, walking, hand movements and the like. Faye put on her heels and walked for me – this time without a bit of difficulty. I stood up and had her walk to me, saying, "Those shoes are just the right height for kissing!"

I didn't have to say it twice – Faye put her arms around me and kissed me passionately.

"I think you are ready to meet with your therapist," I assured her, "But keep practicing – you need to be able to act femme without even thinking about it." I suggested that she get her hair done, and handed her the paper slip given me by the saleswoman.

Faye smiled and promised to get her hair done and practice a lot more. I departed, very pleased with Faye's progress.

  To be continued . . .

Feel free to contact me with your comments or requests.
    –Bill Beaumonte (oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com)