Nymphomania Ch. 3
Keywords: 3, Nymphomania, Ch.,
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Sable greeted Sasha, the salon's owner and her personal friend. My wife introduced "Pussy Boy", "her husband", pronounced it her wish I go through a 'change of life', and bade Sasha to give me the "deluxe treatment". The whistles and catcalls were deafening. If I hadn't been on a coke high, I probably would have been mortified. As it was, I blushed and yielded to guiding hands. I was led to a plush, padded salon couch. I settled into the cushions and my hat was removed. The couch was reclined and I surrendered myself, physically and mentally, to whatever would come.
In a month of intense experiences, this was yet one more. Contrary to my initial rationalization, we had done more coke in the car. Sable's gift to me made it clear she intended this to be a regular part of our new relationship, just as my extreme feminization had become. Doing coke with her once was being conciliatory, sharing the experience. I might have had serious misgivings about doing it "twice" – if my head had been straight. As it was, it was just one more part of the thrill I was feeling – of being out with my lady, being pampered by the salon staff, and feeling more alive than ever before.
My loving wife kissed her fingertips, then touched my cheek.
"Sasha and the girls will take good care of you. Be a good girl and do what they tell you. I'll be back in a little while."
"Where are you going?" I asked timidly, afraid to be left alone in this unfamiliar environment.
Sasha beamed that smile at me; the one that makes me believe everything will be fine.
"Oh, I just have to run a couple of errands while they are making you pretty for me," she replied with a wink. "I need to talk to a couple of people and make some… arrangements for our 'Girls Night Out'. I'll be back before you know it."
She turned to go, then paused, as if remembering something. She turned to me once more, grinning a Cheshire smile.
"I just thought of something," she whispered conspiratorially. "It's been a while since your last hit of "Oxy" and I'll be gone a while. It wouldn't do to have you squirming in the chair while Sasha and the girls are trying to do their best work on you, so…"
Shielding me from view with her body, she gently placed a pill between my lips, then held my chin closed until I swallowed.
"There, all better! It you get the urge to do a little blow, they're really cool about it here. Just think of it as a little appetizer. We'll "really" party later!"
She winked, puckered her lips, blew me an air kiss, then turned and left.
When my 'afternoon of beauty' was over… well, I'm not certain how to put it into words. My lover had returned in time for the 'Grand Unveiling'. Together, we gazed into the mirror and viewed the results of all the hard work of Sasha and her operators. Sable had been accurate to a fault. There was "no way" anyone could look at me and perceive me as a man in a dress.
My formerly-bald head was now adorned with a mane of thick, tight glistening black curls which cascaded to the small of my back. Sasha confided she had anchored my new hair with a special waterproof, oil-proof medical adhesive that would not loosen until she applied the special remover. Sable confirmed she had used the same adhesive to attach my stunning new breasts.
Through the miracles of silicone injection, Sasha had 'pumped' my lips and cheekbones fuller than they had been before. She cautioned me this was a service she provided only to trusted, preferred patrons. The FDA did not approve of it, but she would be happy to provide the service to me as long as I was discreet about it.
Sable had plucked and trimmed my eyebrows when she removed the hair from the rest of my body. They looked… OK, but after comparing them to those of the women I met at the salon, I felt they were shapeless. Sasha had added her agreement.
"Girl, not everyone is blessed with perfect features. This is one we can easily fix. Leave it to us."
My unruly eyebrows - the last of my body hair - had been removed completely with electrolysis. Then, new high-arched, pencil-thin brows had been inked in with a tattoo needle. The repeated pinpricks had stung a little, but Sasha assured me it would all be worth it.
My face had been made over for pure drama; thick, furry lashes above and below, broad swaths of ebony eyeliner extending beyond the edges of my eyes, intense, yet perfectly-blended shades of light and dark shadow for my eyelids and blush for my newly-enhanced cheekbones, a dark, glistening shade of Burgundy Cherry for my pumped-up lips. It would take a while to get used to my new talons; dark cherry to match my lips and flashy gold nail art - a perfect compliment to Sable's own. I had never really dwelled on how long and slender my fingers were. Now, my new nails made them look utterly, irrevocably feminine. My open-toed sandals were the perfect vehicle to display my elegant sculptured toenails and golden toe rings.
There were golden rings on my fingers, too – and in my earlobes. My ears had been multiple-pierced and sported four sets of concentric golden rings, ending with four-inch hoops in my lobes. The scent of "Obsession" wafted about me. For my crowning glory, Sasha carefully positioned my wide-brimmed hat on my head at the same jaunty angle as before. The overall effect was way over-the-top. I remembered some of my friends speaking derogatorily of "wiggers". I certainly looked like one now. I wondered what those friends would think of me now – not that they would "know" it was me unless I confessed to them. It was likely they wouldn't believe it "then". Sasha's thoughts were in a similar vein.
"Sable, there is no way we can call her 'Pussy Boy' now. No one is gonna believe she is a boy unless they pull down her panties, and anyone who gets that close isn't gonna care."
"What do you suggest?" my wife inquired. "I am wide open for ideas."
"How about… "Mink"," Sasha offered. "She is soft, sexy, alluring, and utterly feminine, the kind of woman you just want to wrap yourself in and get lost."
"Hmmm," Sable pondered. "Sable and Mink. I like it. Thank you Sasha – for "everything"."
Sasha handed me my clutch, which now contained lipstick, gloss, lip brush, pressed powder and blush brush, the little silver vial containing my stash, plus a pick comb to fluff up my shimmering curls. Sable winked at me, a coy smile on her lips.
"Shall we go… "Mink"?"
I took a last look in the mirror. I looked so damn good – and felt that way, too! "Good Sable, Bad Sable; who cared?"
I slipped my arm through hers and allowed her to lead me out of the salon, amidst whistles, cat-calls, and admonitions of: "You go, Girl!" The wiggle in my walk was neither subtle nor sub-conscious.
Our next stop was the office of Darien Morrissey, M.D., Sable's personal physician. I had met Doctor Morrissey before. She had referred us to the cosmetic surgeon who had performed all of Sable's procedures. In fact, Sable had, only recently, convinced me to make Doctor Morrissey "my" primary care physician as well. I had been very impressed with her professional, yet caring, personable manner in handling my physical exam six weeks earlier. I remembered she had been "very" thorough, much more so than any of my previous General Practitioners.
***
Darien had called me back a couple of weeks later to schedule a follow-up test. The chagrined doctor confessed one of my original tests had obviously been contaminated in the lab. The result had been too far outside the norms established by my other tests to have been accurate. Just to be safe, she needed to re-test me to clear it up once and for all. It was nothing to worry about, she continued, but the procedure was one of those 'nasty ones' and "could" be a bit painful….
As far as I was concerned, all tests taken during a physical exam were 'nasty ones'; thinly-disguised medieval torture techniques. The doctor offered me the option of general anesthesia and, like the big baby I am, I took it. She was light and breezy afterward, promising she would be in touch if anything was amiss. I hadn't heard back from her and hadn't given the matter another thought. In truth, my thoughts were elsewhere. Darien was almost as stunning an ebony enchantress as my wife. I certainly seemed to have a fascination with attractive Black women.
***
Sable parked the car in the adjacent parking structure and began to open her door. I stayed her arm with one elegantly-manicured hand. A salon full of strangers was one thing; I was a bit hesitant to present myself to our physician – someone who knew us - in this new persona. In truth, I was starting to come down from my emotional and chemically-induced high and feeling less self-confident, despite Sasha's hard work. Sable read me like a book.
"Don't be silly, Sugar," she fussed. "We're big girls here. So is Darien. She won't have any problems with it, any more than Sasha and her girls did. Darien is staying late on a Thursday evening just to see us - to see "you"."
"Oh, God," I groaned. "You didn't "tell" her about this, did you? Why?"
"Sooner or later, she would "have" to know, Sugar," she crooned. "Why not now? It's all for the best. Now, straighten up, fly right, and "be" a big girl for me. Everything will be fine. You'll see. Perhaps we need to fortify ourselves with a little 'powdered courage'."
"Bad Sable! Bad, Bad, Bad!" I wasn't about to argue. It was bizarre. Until that morning, I had never gotten high on anything other than an occasional bottle of champagne or mixed drink. Now….
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Keywords: 3, Nymphomania, Ch.,