A time to rest and then a reward for a job well done allows Sissy to start healing and really become the woman that she might be. Can it continue?

A whole new Sissy -- Pt 7

Maid Joy

The sages of the past who said “time heals all wounds” may have been spouting a platitude, but it turns out that they were right, damn them.

The more time that passed the less the “faggot” comment hurt. I could even laugh about it.

Mistress was great about it. She helped me deal with the problems that arose in my own head that stemmed from the comment. I wasn’t as upset to be thought of as a homosexual, as I was about being spotted as a guy in drag. The fears that flowed from that issue were numerous.

I was very afraid. To start, I was terrified that if someone I knew from the base spotted me that I would be thrown out of the Army. I was also terrified that all that I had worked for would be seen as a sham. My culture, military culture despises weakness. What I wanted, what I needed would be seen as beyond weak, it would in my comrades eyes as a betrayal of not only myself and the Army but of them. I didn’t think I could face their looks of condemnation and rejection.

I think a lot of the dilemma was because I had a lot of time and effort invested in who I showed myself to be. I know it wasn’t who I truly was, but there was a lot of pain and effort and achievement in being the macho soldier that I portrayed. I didn’t want that all invalidated by another aspect of my character. I believed it was an aspect that I could live without if I had to.

Granted, I wouldn’t be happy to lose that part of me, but I could deal with it. After all, if you have never had Ice Cream, how can you miss it?

***

It had been two months since that first outing and shopping trip. Mistress had been helping me, teaching me how to do everything from walk correctly to applying makeup. I had taken to trimming my leg hair to keep it shorter, not shaving it all. Doing PT with no leg hair would have been an “interesting” clue.

I had learned to move with more grace than before. It seemed to be more of a martial art skill, moving with a graceful flow, than many people realized. I mean, most times when fighting it was about power and crushing the other, dominating them with sheer force. In Kung Fu, however, it was about flowing and redirecting energy into another direction, rather than crushing.

Walking in heels, moving with grace, keeping my legs together, all that seemed more suited to Kung Fu than to moving like I normally did. I flowed from one point to another, then I alighted on a chair. I stayed stationary for a time, then I rose or ascended and moved to where I had to go.

I found that most furniture, as it is currently made, didn’t lend itself to this style of movement. Oh, I loved the overstuffed chairs when I was in “guy” mode, I took my seat and I relaxed back. But when I was in “Sissy” mode, and I perched on the same chair, I felt like it was not even close to being comfortable. The mechanics were all wrong for me to sit. It was too short, or too deep, too well padded, or something. I found myself perching on stools or on hard chairs, standing and waiting rather than trying to fight the design of the furniture.

I had to learn all kinds of things. I loved every minute of it.

Slowly I was able to pay Mistress back for her incredible generosity. Her offer was exactly what I needed and wanted. She gave me a place where I could be myself, without judgment, that in and of itself was a relief.

Two months of spending my weekends with her. Understand when I say “weekends” I mean the time off I had scheduled. It wasn’t always Saturday and Sunday, sometimes it was Tuesday and Wednesday, it all depended on the training schedule and the duty rosters. I was able to manipulate things slightly so that I had time I wanted, and I was always able to have my time with her.

There were some complications, as a Non Commissioned Officer I was expected to do a certain amount of socialization. About 80% of that socialization I was able to avoid and blow off, but the other 20% was mandatory. That cut into my “me” time some what.

We were both looking forward to the three weeks I had scheduled as vacation. I didn’t have much to spend my leave on so it just accrued. But now I wanted a vacation and I decided to take a while off.

Mistress promised me that I would be spending every possible second of that time as Sissy. I couldn’t wait.

***

At last the time had come. I handed my duties over to another sergeant, made sure I hadn’t forgotten anything and I packed my bag to leave. I had my paperwork and my identification in my pocket. I was ready.

I got out to my car and loaded the trunk up with my duffel bag. There were other things that I had gotten into the car at other times, and I didn’t want them seen right now. A few of my mates were present to say goodbye to me, and with some good natured back slapping and hand shaking, I got into my car and left the base.

It took me about a half an hour to get into the city and then finally to Mistress’ work area. I knew that she would be busy with another client, so I quietly came into the house and left my bag in a closet I was told was mine. I brought in the rest of the stuff, my prom dress and the overnight bag of Sissy’s clothes that didn’t leave my car. I double checked everything and started my transformation.

Without causing a problem or making a ruckus, I went into the bathroom and showered. I had taken to trimming the hair on my legs with the clippers I had to keep my head buzz cut, and now it was only about ten minutes to remove all the leg hair. This was the first time I had done this since physical training and body modesty was not something that was a high priority in the barracks, even though I had my own room. I couldn’t believe how different my legs felt without the insulation of hair and the extra tactile input.

I finished my shower, shaved my face completely and dried off. Mistress insisted that I use some lotion on my skin once I got done and so I lubed up everywhere. It had a nice flowery scent and I reveled in it.

I didn’t have much hair to deal with, so I just wrapped a towel around my torso, covering my breasts so I started to get into the mindset, and I went back to “my” room to change. Panties first, after tucking away that annoying bulge and putting on the dancer’s belt, the padded girdle came up and gave my hips and ass some shape. Bra and breast forms came next. Mistress had found some glue to mount the breast forms on my chest, and I proceeded to put them on, gasping a little as the glue hit my skin. A few seconds of curing time and the breasts were attached as though I had grown them myself.

I was already feeling different. My motions took on a whole different manner and I flowed into resting on the vanity bench at the make up table. I tweezed my eyebrows for a bit, plucked any stray hairs on my face and started the process of putting on the layers of makeup that a woman needs.

Eyebrows cleaned up the soft brush and dark powder was applied to define the newly feminized brow. Next up finish off the face with foundation, blush eyeliner and mascara — done. I had learned to disguise the line where the breast forms met my chest with more makeup as well. Finally I had the majority of my “face” done. I had decided on a pink scheme for the day, not a heavy look, just one that lightened my features up and opened my eyes up. I set it up with a translucent power and made sure that everything was looking nice.

I pulled out one of the maid uniforms that Mistress had me in before, except this time it actually fit me. Short skirts on the previous uniform came down to nearly my knees now, the bodice actually fit and I looked nice. I pulled the stockings on and rolled them up my newly shaven legs.

Mistress was right, again, the lack of hair on my legs did open up a whole new world of sensations. Oh, this felt yummy!

I attached the stockings to the bottom of my girdle with the tabs that were sewn into it for just that purpose. Next I pulled on a corset and laced it up as best as I could. I hadn’t practiced doing this much, but the principle was not hard; hook up the busk in front, loop the tapes over the doorknob, and then walk as far as you could from the door. Tie off the tapes and voile, instant girl form.

Uniform on, zipped up the back, three inch pumps on the feet and the ankle straps closed, apron tied off and looking neat, finally the wig that Mistress loaned me. I made sure it was on and looking nice, and examined the final product in the full length mirror on the wall.

I had once heard a comedian say that the measure of Vanity was if you would shag yourself. I had to admit that I would if I didn’t know it was me.

With that happy thought on my mind, I left to go and do my self-appointed chores.

***

It was inevitable that I ran into Mistress and her client while cleaning. Making up the beds and cleaning the private rooms didn’t take much time, so I moved on to the public rooms.

“And here’s my pride and joy; Sissy! How very good to see you! Could you take a few minutes and make sure that this idiotic slut learns how to properly dust? I’ve been trying, and she just isn’t getting it.”

I walked slowly and sensually into the parlor and saw what Mistress meant. She had her current client in the same slut uniform I had on at one point, same bad makeup job, and this poor girl was trying desperately to maintain her dignity while cleaning, which was impossible of course.

I curtsied, “Of course Mistress. It would be my pleasure.” I could see the flush on this new girl’s face since she wasn’t able to do the job properly. I ordered her to watch me.

I took the duster out of her hand and showed her how to dust. It wasn’t the dusting that was the important part, but the bending and stooping, intentionally showing off the ass, chest, legs or whatever was convenient to tease and embarrass the girl in question.

Mistress was effusive with her praise for my skills and very abusive to her client. Having been through it and understanding the rhyme behind the reason, I could admire her deft touch. Just enough praise to keep her client encouraged along with the humiliation they paid for.

I kept myself out of the way mostly. I let Mistress do the interacting, and I was busy quietly doing the real chores while this client (whose name I didn’t even know) ran around and incompetently cleaned and re-cleaned things that she didn’t get the first time.

***

Three hours later, her client was sent on home. I finished cleaning up the “toys” and put them in their proper places. I smiled to myself because even though I was still squicked out by some of them, most of these devices didn’t bother me much any more. They were tools of a trade, no different from a knife in my hands, or a hammer in a carpenter’s hands.

Once Mistress got cleaned up, she came and gave me the instructions for her next client. This one was going to be a BDSM special, so I was instructed to pull out the floggers and other impact toys. She made sure to put a collar on me and cuffs on my wrists. I had to look like I was Mistress’ personal property since I would be handing things to her as she needed them.

“Understand Sissy, you are not going to be touching him at all. I’ll be doing all that. All you will need to give me is the items I require. So have the binder clips, the clothes pins, and those kinds of things ready for me. Alcohol, pads, towels and latex gloves are going to be needed. This is going to mean a lot of pain so make sure the gags are out and clean. I have to get into my ‘bitch domme’ outfit. Once everything is out, come and help me get dressed.”

She stopped for a minute on her way out, “You did very well this morning with her. You have a talent for this kind of work. Maybe a good career for you once you are out of the Army?”

It wasn’t until much later that night that I had time to be with Mistress on my own. Or really think about what she had said… out of the Army, did I really want that?

***

That pretty much set the tone for that first week. Mistress had clients almost every day and I helped her as I could. Most often I stayed out of the way, took care of her home while she worked and for that, I had free run.

I shopped for food, out as a Lady. I felt more comfortable being out and the fear of being ‘read’ slacked off greatly. Being this far from base made it vanishingly slim that anyone from my other world would see me, and if they did, it was highly unlikely that I would be recognized.

I also didn’t think that they would look too closely at a lady shopping for groceries.

I got home with the four or five bags of groceries for the next couple days, and Mistress caught me in the kitchen.

“Sissy, we have tomorrow off. I cleared the schedule and you have helped me so much that I’m treating you to a Spa Day.”

“Spa day? What’s that?”

Mistress grinned. “It’s probably the most decadent day a woman can have. We go to the spa and let other people pamper us.”

“What kind of pampering?”

“Well, first there is the massages and the seaweed wraps, then the hair styling and the makeup, then the mani/pedis, possibly waxing as well. It depends on what is needed. But believe me, you will love it. Should take us most of the day.”

“Um, I have to ask, is this going to mess things up for me when I go back to work? I don’t want there to be anything lasting that might spill the beans with the rest of the unit.”

“Trust me, while there will be a few things that could be long term, most of it will work out in the next two weeks. I want to give you something that will make you feel beautiful and heavenly.”

“Won’t the fact that I don’t have hair of my own make it a bit awkward?”

“No, a lot of women wear wigs, and if it comes to it we can tell them that you had a double mastectomy and chemotherapy, which would account for the falsies and the lack of hair. No one will think anything of it.”

I took some time to think that over. “Okay, it sounds like a lot of fun.”

***

The next day I got up with some anticipation. This was an unusual as most often I had a very set routine. This is going to be a memorable day.

I got dressed, light makeup and not much in the way of coverup. Mistress got me and we drove to the spa.

I have to admit that I was more than a little nervous when I was shown into the changing room where I was supposed to disrobe and put on a spa robe. I was worried that I’d be exposed my uncomfortable bulge recognized for what it really was. I tried to take a deep breath, relax and enjoy the experience.

I saw Mistress and we started the process. The first thing was a hot rock massage. I laid down on a table and a lovely lady took very smooth warmed stones and used them to rub my back and legs. It forced me to relax and it felt so good.

I had read and heard about this, but it was nothing like living through it. It felt like heaven.

The seaweed wrap came next, and I kept my panties on for the whole time. Before the wrap, I had to use the solvent and remove my breasts. I honestly thought that this was going to mean the end of the time I had as Sissy. But with the removal of the wig and breasts, no one thought anything about it.

The lady who did the body wrap said “I’m glad to see you healing. We’ll take good care of you and make you feel beautiful again.” That was all that was ever said.

I luxuriated. I relaxed and simply let them do things to me. I know I napped a couple times in sheer bliss. I didn’t think I could relax this totally, but I did. I was oiled, lotioned, rubbed and my pores were cleaned. I didn’t have to raise a hand to do anything.

Going to the gym and even sitting in the sauna or the steam room never felt this good.

Finally, the masque was taken off, the cucumbers removed from my eyes, and I was washed down with a sponge bath. I was told that I would need to get dressed again and it was time for the makeover.

Apparently I wouldn’t need to be waxed since most of the hair on my body was of the baby fine variety. The hair on my legs was short enough that the wax wouldn’t take and just shaving would handle it.

Once I was dressed I was led to the makeup/hairstyling chair I would be in. Three people descended on me. Alice would be taking care of my face and makeup. Pika would be doing my hands and Charlie my toes.

Pretty soon I realized that my best bet was to simply sit still and let them do whatever they wanted to do. The facial was checked over, and my face was rubbed again. Part of this was apparently a face massage and various specialty lotions to tighten the skin on my face. I was complimented on the condition of my face, there weren’t any wrinkles or crow’s feet. The bags under my eyes were tightened up somehow and the rest of my face was cared for.

While that was happening, Pika was rubbing my hands. She was a bit quiet about the damage done to my hands, the rough skin, the broken nails and the torn up cuticles. She spent a lot of time on the nails, trimming, cleaning and generally repairing years of abuse.

One of the things I thought was most touching was that they had a turban for me. My wig was set aside and another lady was busy styling it so that it looked good.

I saw Mistress across the way she was also getting a similar treatment. It made me feel good and I relaxed.

These ladies treated me just as if I were an honored lady guest. I didn’t speak much, but they kept up a chatter that I found very calming and soothing. They told me what they were doing and why. Toenails trimmed, nails buffed and more.

I was asked if I wanted my ears pierced, but I stopped them before they did so. I explained that I had a hard time healing after the chemo, and they understood completely and quickly. The topic was dropped and not mentioned again.

After hours of sitting in the chair and letting these ladies dote on me, finally they were done. The turban was taken off and my wig restored.

I was shown a long mirror and the change was stunning. I had finger nails now, slight ones that were just past the tips of my fingers. Apparently part of the treatment was acrylic nail tips, glued on to give me solid nails instead of the brittle things I had before.

My makeup was done by a master artist. It looked so much better than anything I could have done on my own. My eyebrows were plucked and thinned as they needed to be, arched in a delicate feminine curve. My eye lashes were curled and thick with mascara, the smoky shades on my lids making my eyes larger and deeper.

The nail polish on my fingers matched the lipstick, and I noticed for the first time that I had toenail polish as well. My feet and hands felt smooth and soft. I couldn’t believe how much of a difference that a little lotion and some pampering had on me.

I was floating on cloud nine. I gave all the girls who worked on me hugs and thanked them as best as I could. I don’t know if they would understand the depth of my gratitude, but I felt myself tearing up. There weren’t words enough to tell them how much it meant so I hoped that the generous tip I knew Mistress would add would be enough. A quick tissue later to keep from messing up my makeup and Mistress and I were on our way.

***

“So how did you like it?”

Sissy was a bit dreamy in her response. “It was heavenly. It felt so good and I loved it so much. Thank you.”

I smiled. “You are very welcome. I’m thinking that we can get our party clothes on tonight and go out dancing.”

Sissy got a bit nervous. “Do you think I could pass in a club for a girl?”

I thought that she looked better than many of the girls that would be there. “I think that if you went to the right place, with the right people you will pass for a girl without a problem. And I think you need the experience that comes with being a pretty girl in public. You are gaining a lot of confidence, and your growth is amazing and I love it. But you still need to be in close contact with others and have them say the same thing.”

Sissy did look a bit more nervous. I knew that nervousness well, as I had seen it many times. I knew the club would do more good than harm.

“Sissy, don’t worry about it. I’ll be right there-” I was interrupted by a persistent beeping from Sissy’s purse.

She blanched and dug her pager out. She glanced at the number displayed and dug her cell phone out.

She quickly dialed a number and started speaking. “This is Sergeant Taylor. I was paged.-- Yes. I understand. Thank you.”

She closed the phone and in a very flat voice said, “We need to get to your home as soon as possible. My leave has been canceled. My unit has just been activated to be deployed.”