It was now Sunday morning, and I had woken up in pain from a nocturnal erection. These were a rare occurrence nowadays, as I had become more accustomed to being locked up, but I had been dreaming about dress shopping and hair removal and flaunting around in a dress. As I processed the pain, willing my penis to give up its pointless endeavours, my scrambled brain couldn't decide if I was terrified or excited about what awaited me that day. And then I became aware that Laura was also awake.

She leaned over from her bed and smiled down at me as I lay on my air mattress. “Morning, sweetie! I couldn't sleep either. I'm so excited by what we're doing today. Aren't you?”

Her excitement seemed genuine, and I had no wish to spoil her enjoyment by raising my concerns. Besides which, negativity on my part might backfire. “Morning, Miss,” I replied, forcing a smile which I tried to make as sincere as possible. “It's... it's going to be... er... interesting.”

I was instructed to shower and to closely shave my face. Laura then showered and, wearing our bathrobes, we had breakfast together. As I washed the dishes, she told me what was going to happen. “I'm going to do your nails next, sweetie. Toes and fingers!”

“What?! You didn't mention fingers, Miss.”

“Didn't I? Oh, I thought I had. Anyway, didn't your mother tell you not to spoil the ship for a ha'p'orth of tar? Yes?”

I had heard that old expression. It meant don't falsely economise, thus spoiling the end result. Arguing was pointless, so I sought a compromise. “Will I be allowed to remove the nail varnish before going into uni tomorrow, Miss?” I asked.

“Hmm? That depends on how well you behave yourself, or if we have time. If you keep challenging everything I say then you will try my patience, Stevie.”

“I understand, Miss.” I understood only too well.

“So, when I come to applying your make-up, you won't be making a fuss, will you, muffin?”

Make-up? I looked at her wide-eyed. She continued, “Isn't it better you look like a girl today, rather than a bloke in a dress?”

“I... I guess so, Miss. At least it's just the two of us.”

“Oh? Where did you get that idea, sweetie? Didn't I mention that Amy was coming for lunch?”

No, she had not mentioned that! I was initially speechless, which was probably just as well, otherwise I might have blurted out something that would have landed me in serious trouble.

After a pause, I regained my ability to speak. “But... but why's Amy coming?”

“It was her idea, poppet. She was keen to meet me again, and I wasn't going to say no, was I? I'm dying to see her as well. I think she's lovely.”

“But why do I have to dress as a girl?”

“Oh, that! That was her idea as well. She thought it would be fun if we were all in dresses.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “And... and you didn't try to talk her out of it, Miss?”

“I did try, muffin, but she's very persuasive, isn't she? You've found that as well, haven't you? You end up doing things you'd not planned to.” She was grinning, as she turned my old arguments back on me. “It was easier just giving in to her, and... well... here we are!”

This couldn't be the whole story, and more likely Laura and Amy were ganging up on me, but I was snapped out of my thoughts as she continued, “Besides, she already knows a lot about you, poppet. Wearing panties, being locked up, and so on. Wearing a dress isn't that big a deal, is it?”

I didn't know what to say.

“And she's somehow wheedled herself into becoming my deputy, but you've only yourself to blame for that. If you'd not asked her about her underwear, I wouldn't have needed to ask her to keep an eye on you.”

“But... but you know she tricked me into asking that question, Miss,” I replied, as forcefully as I dared.

Laura gave me a sly smile. “So you always say, sweetheart, but best to be safe than sorry, eh? Another pair of eyes never hurts, does it? They all help to keep you on the straight and narrow. I'm sure your mother would approve of Amy's help.”

I dreaded to think what my mother would make of Amy, but I wasn't going to win this argument. The die had been cast and, in a few hours, Amy would be here and I would be dressed as a girl. Nothing I could say would stop that inevitability.

“I understand, Miss,” I replied. Bizarrely, my penis was starting to twitch violently at the humiliation that awaited me.

“We'd best get you ready, sweetheart. There's a lot to do, but we'll start with your toenails—after we get your dress on, that is.”

We went across into the bedroom, and Laura passed me a pair of black satin bikini panties and the matching bra. Well used to this, I quickly put them on and inserted my falsies into the bra to provide shape.

So far, so familiar, but then she produced the dress we had bought the day before. She helped me into it and did up the zip at the back.

She stood back to look and her eyes shot open. “Oh, God! You were right with what you said in the shop, sweetie, it's very short—too short, really,” she exclaimed, taking a sharp intake of breath. “I'm so, so sorry, muffin!” she continued, shaking her head, as if in disbelief. I might have believed her apology had it not been for the coy grin she unsuccessfully attempted to hide. “You'll have to be careful bending over and remember to keep your legs together when you're sitting.”

I gave her the most disapproving stare I could get away with, before looking at myself in the full-length mirror. I'm not overly tall for a man, but I am above average height for a woman. Consequently, the hem fell more than halfway up my thighs, not far below where my legs were joined. I was becoming nervous, and I was certain that Amy was going to make fun of me, and no doubt take delight in reminding me of my ludicrous appearance at every opportunity for weeks to come.

“I look ridiculous, Miss!”

“I've said I'm sorry, muffin, but there's nothing we can do about it, is there? And you can't take it back because I've cut the labels off. Try to think positive! A lot of girls wear dresses this short, poppet.”

“But I look like a bloke in a dress,” I muttered.

“That could be because you are a bloke in a dress,” she rejoined, sarcastically. “Look! I'm going to transform you, so you can pass as a girl in a dress, sweetie. Sit down, and I'll work my magic.”

oooOOooo

Over the next hour and a half Laura painted my nails and applied make-up to my face. As she worked, she reeled off names of what she was using, some familiar to me but others not—nail polish, primer, foundation, concealer, lipstick, lip gloss, lip liner, mascara, eye shadow, eyeliner, and other words I can't recall.

I sat quietly as she performed my transformation. Her level of concentration was second to none and I knew, in my heart, that she was intent of doing the very best job she could from what I felt was a poor starting point.

I could see what she had achieved with my nails, but what she was doing to my face had to remain a mystery until she was finished. Finally, she let out a sigh of satisfaction, saying, “Turn and look in the mirror, muffin.”

I did a double take! Was that really me? Laura had accomplished what I would have thought impossible. She had made my face look feminine—and, dare I say, almost attractive? I wasn't looking at a drag artist or a pantomime dame, where gaudy make-up had been applied using a trowel—I was looking at a young woman.

Laura was stood behind me as we both gazed into the mirror, and we were both smiling. I was still nervous whilst also becoming more excited. Possibly, I might carry this off without making a total fool of myself.

And then, to complete the transformation, Laura produced a wig of shoulder-length blonde hair which she carefully arranged on my head.

“This is on loan from the Amateur Dramatic Society,” she explained, “so don't get food or make-up on it.”

“No... I won't...” I wasn't paying too much attention to her words. Rather I was focusing on the image in the mirror.

“I... I can't believe what you've done, Miss,” I muttered. “You've worked a miracle!”

“Well, muffin, give yourself some credit. Despite what you might think, the foundations were already there. I've told you before, your facial features are quite feminine with your fine bone structure. I've just enhanced those female characteristics and played down your male features. It's all smoke and mirrors... Oh, my God, I so fancy you, muffin! Stand up and look.”

I knew she fancied me before, but did she fancy me even more, now I looked like a girl? That appeared to be what she was saying. I stood up and stared at myself in the full-length mirror.

“Your natural slimness and figure made you an ideal subject to transform, poppet,” she said proudly. “And although you're tall, you're not too tall to be a girl. I reckon you could pass in public, sweetie.”

“Nooo!” I screeched. “No, please!”

“I'm just teasing you, muffin. Today we're just in the flat, like I promised.”

Her use of the word “today” concerned me, but I let it pass. That was a battle for me to lose another time, should the occasion arise.

“I'm going to get dressed and made up and then prepare the lunch. You sit quietly in the lounge, so you don't mess anything up. But answer the door when Amy arrives. And, remember, she's Miss Amy. Okay?”

I swallowed hard.

oooOOooo

It was an hour before the bell rang. Sitting quietly, as Laura put it, had given me ample time to contemplate Amy's reaction. To say I was nervous was an understatement—I was terrified! And when the bell rang, paralysis set in.

Laura was still in the kitchen. “What did I tell you, Stevie?” she shouted. “Answer the blasted door!”

I forced myself to the door and looked through the spyhole to confirm to myself it was Amy, and not some random stranger. It was Amy!

Cautiously, I opened the door. “Hello, pet,” she said, breezily. “Aren't you going to let me in?”

I stood to one side so she could enter. “You look very beautiful, pet,” she informed me. “That's a lovely dress you're wearing. I love that material, and that colour suits your complexion.”

It was very much what one girl might remark to another. There was nothing in her tone of voice to suggest that the vision in front of her was anything out of the ordinary. There was no element of surprise, nor any sense of amazement or disbelief.

“Aren't you going to say hello to me, pet?” she queried.

“Er... sorry, hello, er... Miss Amy,” I replied, feeling my face flush. She gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Aren't you going to return that, pet?” she asked. I did so, giving her a peck on the side of her face.

Amy, I had seen, was wearing a mini sundress, not dissimilar to mine, but finishing lower, at mid-thigh. And then Laura came out of the kitchen. She was also wearing a short sundress. All three of us were similarly attired. This could not be a coincidence! And, if it was intended to put me at ease, it did the polar opposite.

The two girls—the real girls, that is—embraced and kissed. Given they had met in person only once before, they seemed like old friends. Both were giggly and bubbly at remaking their acquaintance. For a couple of minutes, they excitedly exchanged compliments about each other's appearance before hugging each other for a second time.

“Stevie!” Laura admonished. “Don't stand there like a lemon. Offer Miss Amy a drink!”

“Er... yes, sorry.”

oooOOooo

I got drinks sorted out. The two girls both chose Prosecco, while I opted for water, alcohol being off limits for me. They sat side-by-side on the sofa, engaged in animated conversation, while I sat facing them in an armchair. All manner of girly topics came up for discussion. I kept quiet and, luckily for me, my name was never mentioned. It almost seemed that they had forgotten I was there, apart from acknowledging me when I topped up their glasses.

After a while, Laura announced that lunch must be ready and we all went through to the kitchen where we enjoyed a simple but tasty meal, and the girls imbibed more Prosecco. By now, they were getting merry and their conversation continued nonstop. I was still largely ignored, which suited me, but did leave me wondering why Laura had gone to all this trouble and effort to transform me into a girl.

With lunch completed, we all went back into the lounge and sat down where we were before, with me facing the two girls. The conversation between the pair slowed down and both started looking in my direction, which was disconcerting. I sensed that now both of them were replete with drink, they might start teasing me.

“Don't you think Stevie looks gorgeous, Amy?” asked Laura. “I can't take my eyes off him!”

“He's beautiful, Laura! He looks so natural, sitting there, so elegant and poised... and sexy!”

“And that bra strap that's showing is so provocative, don't you think? What a tease he is. He's flirting with us, Amy.” Feeling myself going red, I swiftly pushed the offending strap out of sight.

I glanced at Amy, and she returned a sweet, knowing smile. “Showing a strap is nothing to be embarrassed about, pet,” she consoled me. “It's a badge of honour, nowadays. See?” she added, pointing to her own bra straps, both on display.

The two girls continued to look at me, understanding full well that I was finding it embarrassing. “But do keep your knees firmly together, sweetie, or else cross your legs,” advised Laura. “As my granny used to say, we don't want to see next week's washing.”

I chose to cross my legs, which only served to pull the dress even farther up my thighs, which Amy found amusing. “You've got such shapely legs, pet. You should stop being so shy and show them off at uni.”

Not knowing how to answer, I simply went red. But she continued, “Where did you buy your nail varnish, pet? I love that colour! And it complements the colour of your sandals.” I looked down at my toes, poking out of the end of my open-toed footwear.

“Er... Miss Laura bought the varnish, Miss,” I replied. Then, hoping to turn the tables, I added, “Your toes also look really pretty, and I like that colour.”

“Oooh! Thank you, pet, that's so sweet of you to notice. I've got half a bottle left and you can have it. I'll give it you tomorrow.”

“Oh... er... thank you, Miss,” I muttered, deciding that protesting I didn't want it wouldn't alter her decision.

“Painted toes are so important, pet,” she added. “Don't you two agree?”

“I do,” affirmed Laura, “and I'm sure Stevie agrees as well.”

“Yes, Miss Amy, they... they look much better painted,” I added, for want of anything better to say.

Then, Amy casually remarked to Laura, “I used to have a boyfriend who adored my painted toenails. When he saw them, he had this irresistible urge to suck them. I miss him doing that.”

“Really?” replied Laura.

“Yeah, he was so good at it. He worked his way from toe to toe and I would squirm with pleasure. He said he was worshipping my feet.”

“Really?!”

“Yes! What he did was out of this world. It was like having my feet nibbled by little fish. Sadly, he dumped me after a few months, and now I really miss not having someone in my life who would suck my toes like he did.” She adopted a sad expression, taken from her theatrical repertoire of strange looks.

Both girls stared continuously at me and said nothing. I was certain this had been planned between them, and it seemed inevitable where this conversation was going.

Suddenly, Laura announced, “Heh! I've just had an idea, Amy! I'm sure Stevie could give it a go. Isn't that right, sweetie?”

I'd never given anyone a foot massage, neither with my hands nor my mouth, but clearly claiming ignorance was unlikely to divert Laura from the path she was taking.

Then, for a moment, I thought Amy was coming to my rescue. “No!” she protested. “I couldn't impose like that, Laura. And Stevie might find it humiliating, kneeling in front of me, worshipping my feet, especially when I'm wearing this extremely short dress. I don't want to embarrass him.”

“Don't be silly, Amy. I'm sure Stevie would love to do it, and I'm sure he'll respect your modesty—if he knows what's good for him.”

“Only if you're completely sure, Laura,” replied Amy. Laura nodded her consent, while smiling.

“Er... I suppose I could try, Miss,” I hesitantly replied. “But I might not be much good.”

“You'll be fantastic, muffin,” Laura assured me. Turning to Amy, she added, “He's so good with his mouth, Amy. You're in for a proper treat.”

“Wow! He's good with his mouth, is he?” rejoined Amy, smirking. “It's so generous of you, Laura, to allow your boyfriend to service me. I hope he doesn't find it too degrading, forced to kneel in front of me, keeping his eyes lowered, and satisfying me by sucking my ultrasensitive pinkies until I squirm.”

I was astonished by what she was saying. It was so blatantly obvious that she was dropping double entendres, yet Laura seemed unbothered. In fact, I saw Laura's hand reach out and hold on to Amy's, who responded with a congenial smile.

Amy kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs, and Laura instructed me to get down on the floor and start work, reminding me to keep my eyes down.

I crawled over to Amy's feet. The foot attached to the leg that was over her knees was several inches above the carpet and ideally placed for what she wanted doing.

“Use just your mouth, sweetie,” instructed Laura. “No hands!”

What I was expected to do was, in some senses, demeaning, but in other ways it was highly arousing. The latter side won, and I became aware of my penis attempting once again to tumesce.

“Concentrate on my toes, pet,” Amy explained. “Use your lips and your tongue. Go along the row, one by one, making sure you get between the toes. Don't worry, my feet are clean and there's no toe jam.”

She was not wrong about cleanliness. Indeed, her feet smelt heavenly with a fragrant scent, and I was soon fully engaged in the task I had been set and enjoying myself. Only after about ten minutes, did Amy instruct me to swap to the other foot, and she obligingly uncrossed and crossed her legs to present that foot towards me.

I was getting myself worked up and I was aware of precum leaking out, into my panties. Admittedly, this was not such a turn-on as performing cunnilingus with Laura but it was, nonetheless, an exhilarating experience. It was also humiliating, as I was forced into this subservient position, kneeling in front of Amy like a foot slave.

But I could tell that Amy was also getting turned on. She was not wrong about squirming, and she was becoming increasingly unsettled. Her fidgeting was accompanied by quiet moaning and I began to wonder if she might climax.

She may have thought the same. “Stop... now, pet,” she suddenly ordered, breathlessly. “Thank you, Laura,” she commented. “That was... divine.” The thanks went to Laura, with nothing directed to me.

“Any time you want your toes sucked, Amy, I'm sure Stevie will oblige... any time, any place.” What was she saying?!

“Sit on your haunches, sweetie,” Laura ordered. “Look Miss Amy in the eyes, no lower, and thank her for allowing to you to worship her toes.”

Laura had never spoken to me like this before, but how seductive it was. “Er... thank you, Miss Amy, for allowing me to worship your toes.”

“You're welcome, pet, and, for doing it so well I think you deserve a reward, as long as Miss Laura is happy for me to give it, of course.”

She glanced at Laura who returned a nod and a smile. Laura clearly knew what my reward was going to be.

Amy gazed at me, saying, “Your reward is something you've been pestering me to show you for ages, pet. Look down!” With that, she uncrossed her legs and opened them wide, forcing up her short dress and giving me a clear view of her turquoise panties, which displayed a large damp patch. The panties were pressed tight against her pubic mound, marking out the shape of her vulva.

What she had said about me pestering her was blatantly untrue, yet a frenzy of excitement pulsed through my body at the previously forbidden sight now in front of me. My penis was pounding against the walls of its prison. Despite Laura having given her approval, I felt I should have averted my eyes, but I couldn't—they were drawn to the dampness like a magnet to iron.

And, weirdly, what struck me at that moment was that her panties were a different colour to her bra, the white straps of which had been on clear display. Laura wears colour-coordinated lingerie and requires me to do the same. Amy had dispelled any assumptions I had that all girls were like that.

I was mesmerised by the sight in front of me. It lasted just seconds before she snapped her legs shut again, but time seemed to have stood still for those seconds. “What do you say, pet?” she asked, innocently.

Hearing those words, I snapped out of my dreamlike state. I didn't know what I could say, so I glanced at Laura for guidance, but she was keeping quiet, with just a sly smile on her face. I was on my own! “Er... hmmm... thank you, Miss Amy,” I said, blushing.

“For what, pet?”

Oh, my God! I again turned to face Laura, hoping for a signal, but she persisted with her Mona Lisa expression. “Er... thank you for letting me see your panties, Miss,” I remarked.

“And... and?” she persisted.

“And... and seeing your wetness, Miss.” My penis was throbbing at the humiliation I was suffering, and I had no idea as to whether Laura was buying into this or whether she was simply obliging our guest out of politeness. Amy, though, was overjoyed by my response. She was highly aroused, with dilated pupils and engorged nipples.

“Stevie,” decided Laura, “Go and make a pot of tea while I talk to Miss Amy. Go on, chop chop!”

oooOOooo

When I got back with the teapot and mugs, the two girls had moved closer together, and Laura's hand was now on Amy's knee, not that Amy was in the least concerned because she had placed her hand on top of Laura's—and not with the intention of moving it.

“You look so pretty, pet,” opined Amy, staring at me. “I really think you should dress like that every day. What do you think, Laura?”

“Hmmm... he's probably not ready for that... Not just yet!” She smiled, leaving me to work out whether or not she was serious. However, I decided that it was best to leave her remarks unanswered, rather than getting into a verbal tussle with Laura, who would be supported by Amy. I had gained sufficient experience from being in an FLR to know that I seldom won verbal arguments with womenfolk.

oooOOooo

After Amy had left, I felt compelled to go over what had happened. “I didn't know what to do, Miss. I didn't ask her to flash her knickers, and when she had, I didn't know where to look or what to say.”

“Well, no one can say you weren't observant, poppet, noticing they were damp! You had a good long look, didn't you?”

“Well... sorry, yes, I suppose I did, but it was so obvious they were wet. I'm... I'm surprised you let her do that.”

“Well, muffin, she's been claiming for ages that you're desperate to know what panties she wears, so she relented at last.”

I was shocked by this distortion of the truth. Had Laura bought into Amy's lies? I looked at Laura and was relieved to see a crafty smile on her face.

“And why did you let me worship her toes, like I did? Were you not jealous, Miss?”

“No! Not at all. I know you're devoted to me, and I couldn't see any harm in you providing a service for Miss Amy, nor any harm in her rewarding you with a quick flash. And, more importantly, I found it to be a massive turn-on. She wasn't the only one with damp panties. I reckon we all three of us had them, hmm?”

I nodded. “I feel guilty getting aroused with Amy, but I couldn't control my arousal.”

“Neither could I, poppet, so let's take this to the bedroom, shall we? Let's pretend we're two girls making out. What do you say, poppet? You pretend you're a girl, okay?”

“Er... okay... Miss.” I felt a further twitching from below as I imagined what might be in store for me.