An Apprentice Needs Help

by Wannabe Ginger

Chapter 7

We woke the following morning and I made it to the shower first. I was determined, again, to be male and to make love as a male …….with Ginger taking the female role. We had made love that way for the first time last night. We had made love "as two girls" as well — but with one having a cock. And we had loved every minute.

I had slept in the nightie but removed it quickly. I just had to remove the nightie which for some reason felt out of place. I did this by delicately slipping the shoulder straps aside and sliding the garment down. First over my chest, where my nipples stood erect., then down over my hips and to the floor. There I stood, still with hair to die for, with my face still made up with colour and style enough to be a photographic model. My eyes were the fixation now. The lashes, oh! The lashes! I really should not have slept in them. They were still tightly stuck in place. The trouble was that the mascara and eye shadow around them were now a complete mess — just as though I had applied them myself, which of course I hadn’t. I looked like a Panda Bear.

It had to go — all of it. I peeled the lashes from my eyelids - OUCH! — that wasn’t easy and I made a hash of salvaging them — no re-use for them then! Such a pity. Another pair would be top of the shopping list! The cleansing cream took an age to shift the colours that I saw in the mirror. Perhaps the shower would do better.

Whilst I stood at the dressing table, I studied my finger nails. They were the one part of me that had been neglected. Would I have to have a good manicure to complete the illusion that would have to be created for the competition?

My sleepiness meant that I showered at length. Washing my skin all over, I cleansed every pore. Some areas were more difficult to do than others. My eyes did take for ever to cleanse. Maybe the colours and the cosmetics were especially hard-wearing. My mind wandered back and forth. I thought of the bliss of the previous night. To have made love the way we had. To have experienced wonderful boy/girl love-making and, in a sense, girl/girl love-making. I marvelled at the experience. I just imagined myself again in both guises. I thought of myself, first as a male, second as a lesbian, at the same time loving the same beautiful girl. I wondered what she would be thinking (or what she had dreamt about) when I returned to the bedroom. Ginger would be laying dozing and this would allow me to admire her. My love for her had burst upon the very being of my existence. She had loved me both as a boy and as a girl with a cock.

Was this all just as a result of preparing for a competition — all the result of helping a girl-friend to get experience of different hairstyling processes?

The shower was hot and very relaxing. My hair had need of a thorough wash, to remove all the lacquer and the back-combing, and a thorough conditioning to prepare it for what was to come — colouring, styling, drying and finishing. Quite a set of treats in store! My mind wandered again to what was to be the activity of the day — and where it was leading.

By the time the showering and hair treatments were finished, I stood in the shower as a male, unmistakably. My hair was long, sure, but the rest of me was unmistakable the male that had enjoyed his love-making with a beautiful girl the night before. My cock began to rise again. Where had all of this libido come from?! He word fetish wasn’t one I had used ever, but I think I knew what it meant now. That was really what I was experiencing. It was. The towel I used to dry myself was warm and surrounded me like a blanket. I rubbed my skin and found great warmth in the feeling having done so. I combed my hair through with a huge plastic comb that I found in the shower. It must have been Ginger’s. It was slowly drawn through the length of my hair, with me imagining myself in her position. Then, with a towel wrapped round my hair, there was a towelling wrap that was ideal to finish off with.

Waking Ginger with a gentle kiss, having licked her cheek and found the wonderful nipples beneath her nightie, I went on to lick her abdomen and finally, I found my way with an eager tongue, to the nest between her thighs. I parted her legs began to play. Time stood still. The tastes and the textures I found were unbelievable — and they were all hers! As she reached a first climax, I cradled her in my arms and left her to luxuriate in the pleasure — pleasure that would be repeated.

Quietly we talked of the coming day’s plans. We had to be at the venue for the competition by 5pm. The evening would last from 5.30pm, when the judges would see us "before", until late in the night, when they would judge us "after" what Karen had done with us. This meant that it would be a long evening. Before that, however, Karen wanted us to get together to be told what she intended to do with our hair, and also how we would have our make-up done. My mind began to wander again — what absolute joy was in store!

Ginger went to the bedroom and, after some time doing what I couldn’t be sure, came back dressed in casual clothes - she said that mine were to be much like hers; not surprising because I was borrowing from her wardrobe. My own clothes were shabby and there was no time to go home for fresh apparel (or to go to the shops to buy new). Ginger was insistent that I wore underwear but not that we had purchased together.

Ginger said that we should try on some other underwear that she had bought for me. A corset, she said, would give me better shape. She held up a boxed garment for me to open. It was blue and silky, like the rest of the underwear I had worn. However, this was made of tight elastic, or lycra; it was a "firm control" garment. Before, I had been wearing the suspenders, the stockings and the bra. This took the place of all three.

There was an important first item. Ginger also held up the elastic lace band that had held my cock out of sight the night before. My cock restraint. Something that I had been forced to wear under the nightie. I couldn’t wait for it to be put back in place, even the thought of it exerting great pressure in the rising of my cock.

"This is to be put on under the underwear, it’s absolutely essential." said Ginger. "Just so I know exactly where you are at any time." She said to my cock as she tied the lace in place. My cock refused to subside, making the strapping difficult. Ginger was frustrated by this and, the more she fumed, the harder my cock became. "You’ll have to stop that!" she commanded. "But I can’t!!!" I exclaimed.

"We’ll see about that……" she said, as she examined her finger nails. I hadn’t noticed that they were so heavily lacquered in a crimson enamel. "We’ll see!!!"

Gently, but insistently, she clawed her nails down the length of my cock — down, and up, and down again. The effect was electric — both incredibly sexy, but also totally distracting. I lost my hard-on within seconds. "Great!" she exclaimed. "Now for the tie…………!" The lacy band was tied around my balls and my cock once again. Tighter than even before. The ends of the lace were pulled firmly down between my thighs and tied like a thong behind me, once more.

"Got you!" Ginger exclaimed. "You’ll need to get used to that."

The knickers lay on the sofa bed. In the same shimmering blue with lace trimmings that had made my nightie look so wonderful.

I felt the pressure from the black lace restraint that went around my balls, over my cock so many times - behind my back. My cock was held back between my legs but we both knew it was already bursting to be released. No such luck. There it was to stay for now. How else could I stay inside the corset that was the last item to be worn? Its lycra, satin and lace construction meant a close fit to my body, with long sides, there was no question of my slipping out of control.

She told me how to put the corset on — by stepping into the garment and pulling it up first over my hips, then over my abdomen, then over the waist until it reached my chest. By this time, I was taking shorter breaths. Firm Control! Now I knew the meaning of the words! The cups were then to be settled over my chest — with little to put in them, the ‘B’ cups were a sorry sight. Ginger showed me again how to draw the flesh from my ‘pecs’ up into the cups and, when this was done, I actually could boast a pair of ‘B’ sized tits!

Then, I fastened the corset’s suspenders in place, the long straps hanging loose down my legs. They, too, were blue and lacy. The dream intensified.

Now, where were the stockings? Their little package appeared lost. I found myself almost desperate to find them — I wanted the feeling of the sheer nylon encasing my toes, my insteps, my ankles, my calves, my knees and my thighs…… up to their being fastened to the suspenders. Where were they??!

"Where are my stockings??" I shouted.

"You have to say please, to get them!" Ginger teased me.

"Where are they!!???" I cried.

"I’m wearing them — to warm them up for you! I’ve stolen them!" she giggled.

"You’ll be surprised what you’ll find with them." She implored me to go searching under her chinos, so I did, still wanting a fresh packed pair of stockings to myself.

She slipped her chinos down and there, between her stockinged thighs, was a cock-shaped vibrator. "You’ll have to kiss this before I’ll give up the stockings." She dared me.

"I got it in case all of this took your mind off making love — but it doesn’t seem to have been a problem — but you’ll have to kiss it anyway — we’ll both play with it later". So there it was, a cock for me to suck - her cock! Then I could get the stockings.

As I knelt down, my hair suddenly crashed into my consciousness again — it was going to be incredible — ……… in fact, it felt like it was! I began imagining……..

It was actually heavy! All of the back-combing had given it such volume, and all of the lacquer had given it such body, I could feel a real weight around my head as I went down on Ginger’s cock. My head was spinning once more — Was I dreaming?

She giggled loudly, allowing my lips only briefly to encircle the vibrator. She whipped it away and said "Only teasing — you get the stockings fresh and in their little pack — you can have my cock later, but only if you want it! Oh, by the way, you do still have to say "please" for the stockings!"

Reality checked in again. I was facing her, dressed in my corset, with no other vestige of femininity. My make-up gone. My hair plain, brown and crying out for a set. And there she was, making me say please for a pair of stockings. What on earth was I doing????!!!

I was given the stockings in a cellophane and card pack. I unwrapped the pair and gently slid my hand into the first, to roll it before stretching it up my left leg. The clasps of the corset’s suspenders were tricky — I had never worn one before! After three attempts, and a near laddering of the stocking, the first was fastened, tight. The second, on my right leg, was easier — I could easily learn this! The ones around the side, and especially the backs of my thighs proved really tough….. I was near exhausted when they were all six fixed in place.

So there I stood, corseted tightly, stockings to die for and needing shoes!

Now all that was left, was to get my "tits" arranged. Ginger’s instructions were clear. "Pull the weight of your tits into each cup. Let’s see how big your boobs are!" This took me into even deeper uncharted territory. This was Ginger! This wasn’t Margot — now almost forgotten — or her scary Mother! This wasn’t Karen either. This was the girl I fancied so much now and had made love with only an hour ago. She was commanding my final steps in a transformation!

There I stood, hardly elegant but encased in feminine clothes with my soon-to-be bouffant hair around my soon-to-be made-up face. "Now there’s just a little left to do before we can let your cock free!" Ginger exclaimed.

We had to prepare ourselves, our hair and our skin, as the base on which the Apprentices would be working. No colour, no style, casual clothes. But we had to have clothes for the event chosen for us. That’s where scary Mother of Margot was to come in. With that and the make-up she was in charge of. Before that even, we had to see Karen and hear what she had in mind for our hair styles and colours.

Ginger insisted that we comb eachother’s hair out before leaving. This was naturally a pleasure for me — both to have my hair combed and to do hers too. It was now seven or eight weeks since we had begun this adventure. In that time, my own hair had seemed to grow strongly. It had been collar length when we began and, after the shaping and trimming that Karen had done a few weeks before, its growth had quickened. The sides were now chin-length. The crown was long and the back had reached a length where it covered the "under-cut" of the Wedge style. I could have, if I wanted, pull the hair back into a pony-tail — indeed, many guys my age wore their hair that way. I preferred to leave it long and swinging as a Pageboy Bob will do if the hair is in good condition. Only when it had been rollered did it have the smooth and sleek shine that I had begun to love. That had been how Karen’s hair had been at the start.

Ginger led me out of the house. We had a little shopping to do before we met with the other girls. Shopping first! After that, the next thing was to find Karen and Margot. Margot’s Mother would surely find us, so there was no need to go looking for her! It was late morning when we set off. I felt quite at ease, leaving the house with plain casual clothes.

We passed the Department store where I had first encountered the "Woman in Red". What a lot had happened since then. We didn’t go in. Ginger was keen to reach the Nail Salon a few doors beyond. We were going to need nails for the evening, she told me, and this was the best place to find the right ones. Her own fingernails were very much her own — beautifully manicured and of even length. My own were a disaster — despite my efforts, they were uneven and nibbled in places. Ginger had scolded me for the lack of care I continued to show to my hands. "A manicure!" she ordered!

Somehow, I hadn’t been prepared for that — quite why not remains a mystery — there had been talk about the importance of immaculate nails at some time in all of this. There had been Margot’s Mother with her "talons" that shouted "Sex!" Then there had been Ginger’s own nails that clawed my erect cock into submission not long ago.

A manicure it was to be. I was introduced to the Manicurist, Crystal, who led me to her treatment table. "Have fun!" said Ginger. "Where are you going?!" I said, stunned that she was turning to leave the Nail Salon.

"Oh, nowhere special……." She answered enigmatically. I was left with no option but to sit as directed in front of Crystal and watch as she began a treatment programme that lasted nearly an hour. She asked me about my diet and how I had looked after my hands (not at all, it was true!). She asked if I used moisturiser or lotions to soften the skin — which I never had done. She asked what nail polish I was usually preferring — which, of course, I couldn’t name as I had never worn nail polish before! She asked if I had thought about false nails — which I hadn’t for a moment.

"Well, you really have a lot to learn!" she summed up the situation she saw. "We’ll have to start with the basics and move on from there. I hope you have time!"

She applied a gloopy cream to the skin on my hands and rubbed it all over, back and forth, along the fingers to their tips and back to the palms of my hands. She rubbed the cream in deeply and spent minutes massaging each finger. When satisfied, she took a further cream to apply to my finger nails themselves. "This will soften the nail before we deal with your cuticles." Cuticles?? What were they? I had never heard the term. "These imperfections around the beds of your nails" she explained.

My fingers were again cleaned and then submerged in a warm bath of another solution that, she told me, would make the cuticles easy to remove.

All the time, she looked at me closely, making it clear that a male hand and a female hand were the same to her. Turning a male hand into a female hand was not a great challenge. Maybe she had done it dozens of times before.

She dried my hands and then turned to a tray of tools that look like a medieval torture chamber’s kit. There were knives and rasps and files and prodders and pokers and scalpels, not to mention the polishing equipment I could see waiting — I would feel that before long! Beyond the tools were sets of false nails, all of a neutral colour. I wondered but soon realised, yes, I was to have a set of those — all on Ginger’s instructions, quite clearly!

"I have plenty of time." I said. "How long does it take to get nails as wonderful as your own?" I had already admired Crystal’s long shapely nails. They were a deep crimson red and had a high shine, clearly build up in several coats, to reach absolute perfection. "There’s not a flaw in any of them." I complimented her.

"Thank you, you’re very kind." She said, her eyes meeting mine. "You could have nails like mine in a couple of months, I’d guess….., if you promised not to nibble at them!" She knew all about me. Her eyes were a deep brown colour and they were immaculately made-up. I could tell that this girl was a real professional where beauty was concerned.

As she busily worked on my nails, we talked of this evening’s competition — about which Ginger had told her in advance. She wanted to know a lot about how I had become involved and why. I couldn’t say that I had been attracted to Karen more than Ginger, so overlooked that part, but went on to explain how, for me, it had been a ruse to get closer to a girl I had fancied for a long time.

"I thought I’d be helping by having my hair washed and dried, that was all. We, at first, that was all in fact." I began.

"Did you never imagine that it would change into something more involved? You must have thought it through — after all, what help is a wash and dry?" She scorned.

"Well, actually, it became something more very quickly. But I guessed it wouldn’t make a big deal…. I had my hair set…. On rollers… Karen said it would be good practice and she was doing it on the other two girls."

"There!!! You should have realised immediately — the OTHER two GIRLS is what she said………… It wasn’t going to be long before that would be the way you thought of yourself!" She wanted to know much more, I could tell.

"That’s not right at all. It was just a few rollers to start with. The first time and they didn’t change my appearance much at all. Then. They didn’t, then." I really struggled to explain to her. How I had been in control, at least I thought I was, then.

Crystal’s hands had stopped working on my nails for a little while. I wondered what she was to do next, but there was no motion at that point.

"My hair wasn’t this long, not then." I indicated raising my hand to my own cheek. Her hand followed and she touched my hair. Again, I felt a warmth rising between my thighs — which reminded me of the undies and my cock restraint that Ginger had suggested I should wear all the day. Again, they were that silky satin and shiny blue lace. The corset was exerting such pressure, it was never far from my mind. The stockings were silky smooth chafed by the fabric of the chinos I was wearing over the top.

I was brought back to the "here and now" suddenly.

"I’ll bet you can wear a whole head of rollers now!" she exclaimed. "What style do you wear when Karen does your hair — and will it be the same in the competition this evening?"

"It’s changed since we began." I was warming to describing my own hair and how it had changed over the weeks since we had begun our "Girl’s Nights" and it allowed me to remember each stage in the process. "As it’s got longer, I’ve had a styling cut to develop what Karen called a Wedge Cut — long at the sides and back from the crown but short up the neck, leaving and undercut step. We coloured it all just once or twice — with a semi-permanent auburn rinse — which I really liked a lot." I then remembered how that had made me feel — the confusion about whether I should be enjoying this or not.

"I had a spooky encounter with Margot’s Mother in the Beauty department of the department store just along the road from here — I was to meet her later too!" That memory hadn’t faded. It became clear that Crystal knew Margot’s Mother well when she said: "Ahh, yes, I know the lady concerned — she’s a client of ours here. She has probably the longest nails that I have ever seen or treated. Quite how she keeps them that way, none of us know!"

I preferred not to think! I went on: "After the cut, my hair seemed to grow faster. Karen said it was because of its improved condition…. But I think it was down to me wishing it would!" I really think that was true — the rate of growth, and also the thickness of my hair seemed almost to double from that time on — and look at it now!

"Karen wanted to practice all sorts of other processes and, along the way, she put highlights in Margot’s hair which I must say I’d like one day." That was true — I would like highlights… why hadn’t I thought of that before!?

"Then…." The story went on…. "just when we had talked about me having a permanent colour for the under-layer of my style, everything changed. How much it had been planned, I’ll never know but there was news of this competition, so it was bye-bye colour change until then, they said"

"So you’ve been wanting to colour your hair since then and they’ve not let you? Crystal’s face was a study. "Why ever, when you were willing, would they not let you do such a thing? I’ve coloured my hair a hundred times and it’s never been a problem to make a change — even after when the last one was only a few days ago.

"No idea, apart from it being something to do with the judges seeing a ‘before and after’ view of each model that the stylists will be working on."

"That’s a pity, because I can’t see what you’d be like with other than the plain colour you have. The style is easier to imagine. What colours would you have wanted to be?" She asked and really set my mind racing.

Meanwhile, her hands were preparing my own for the polishing of the nails — still no varnish or undercoat or anything.

My mind ran through the colours — some real, some fantasy — that I had dreamed of having for my own hair. When I thought, it was a real rainbow from blue-black to pastel blonde. I know now that many men with the fetish that I enjoy will have thoughts like these, some of them twenty times a day — even if fewer of them put the fantasy into reality by actually having a colour change. More of them should do so! After all, what’s the worst that could happen? Someone close might take time to understand — but they will. After all, changing your hair colour doesn’t mean you want to change your gender.

Back to my fantasy and Crystal’s question. She listed attentively

"Brown… brown is dull." I said with feeling. "Mousey brown, like I am naturally, is dullest of all! It cries out to be enriched! So, my first thought was towards Chestnut Brown — rich and with reddish glints. I’ve stood in front of the hair colour ranges in the drugstore many times, just looking at the ranges. Chestnut is good, but not bold enough! Auburn……. Now you’re talking! That was my first choice and it will always be special — in fact, if I’m going to have a "usual" colour for myself, I think it will be auburn. I just love its richness and the way it shines in the sunlight. When the hair is back-combed, it gives wonderful lights to a flat colour from the bottle. Then, if I’d be able to, just to make it more interesting, I’d add some lighter highlights to the auburn. Whenever I see a woman with auburn hair and highlights, I’m now finding myself deeply jealous!"

"You’d have to have that done professionally, wouldn’t you?" She asked "The simple auburn can be done at home and there are lots of products in lots of wonderful shades — I’ve used them many times myself." Crystal enthused.

"You’re right — I can hardly set my own hair on rollers…." I admitted, "so putting highlights in would be really difficult… and, in any case, there is a real sense of being given a special treat when someone else does your hair. I guess that’s what’s made me go on… and on… with the Girls Nights."

"What about going blonde? I’ve been blonde lots of times and it really makes a girl feel different, I can tell you! Crystal’s smile was broad, and very, very sexy. Her eyes lit up again.

"Hmmmmmmmm……" I paused…….. "I have yet to find out what it’s like but I have long ago decided that when the chance comes, I’ll grab it willingly! I had expected to come away from an evening with a blonde top and an auburn under-level in this Wedge Cut that Karen had done. I had even insisted that I would on agree to it if I got to choose the colour of blonde — there was no way I wanted to be a ghastly brassy yellow blonde!"

Crystal’s eyes narrowed. "You should have seen me only a few months ago — I purposely went for a the most tarty, bright, yellow ringlets — just to see what it would do to the people I met, and more interestingly to the people I knew well. They ALL treated me differently, I can tell you - I slept with four men I had never slept with previously in that time!"

"So that fits with the common view that blondes have more fun, then!?" I teased. "Anyway, as I don’t want to sleep with men — and certainly not four different ones, thanks…. I’d really fancied a beautiful pastel blonde colour — probably a strawberry shade….. even a little on the pink side, for evenings, maybe. Ginger’s promised me that we’ll explore that, whatever Karen has planned for tonight."

"Tonight! Heavens, look how the time has gone! Ginger will be back now your hour with me is up!" Crystal exclaimed. "But then, you’re finished pretty much. Look!"

I looked down — and to my surprise, the fingernails that I had come in with were gone. They were hidden by the most wonderful crimson, perfectly-shaped nails. Whilst I had been in my fantasy of hair colours, she had been putting the finishing touches to colour on my own nails — not false ones "They’ll be even longer, still yours, if you come back to see me again — maybe a consultation on your own, if you like." said a Crystal that I now saw as a really attractive future friend.

No sooner had we talked a few seconds more but Ginger arrived back in the Nail Salon. Looking gorgeous. Her smiling face told me that she was pleased to see me again — I beamed broadly back and stood as she came in. Crystal told us that the treatment had been so enjoyable, it was "on the house" - I made a mental note to send her flowers.

It was mid-morning now and we had a while to spend in the shops before we were to meet the "other girls" for the afternoon’s preparations. Karen was going to brief us on the hair styles and colours we would be having. Margot’s Mother was in charge of the make-up (and maybe, it seemed, the clothes we were to wear). My mind returned again to the corset, its suspenders and the stockings that covered my legs. Ginger suggested we had time for a spell of window-shopping: "We can talk cross-dressing items if you like. I rather fancy that. Do you?" Guess my response!

TO BE CONTINUED……………… IN CHAPTER 8