GLAMOUR SHOTS - A TRUE STORY - by Cindy V.
I have many fantasies about being dressed as a woman. But circumstances are such that there is no opportunity to do so at home. However, I have always had a fetish fascination for make-up and for being made-up. When I saw the Glamour Shots ads and studio in the mall, I knew this was something I had to do.
I approached the receptionist and asked if they would make up a man as a woman. I was surprised when she said they had done that before. They had plenty of large size clothes (they dress you for the photos above the waist only). But there was nothing they could do with my short hair - I had to have a wig! They recommended a Merle Norman cosmetics store in the same mall. But I made an appointment for a Glamour Shots makeover and photo session for the following week.
So I trudged to Merle Norman and told the saleswoman I was looking for a wig for myself. She didn't bat an eyelash, and she calmly told me to look around at what was on display. I tried the long straight blonde haired wig, similar to the style that I find attractive on women. It looked ridiculous on me. Then I chose a medium length wavy wig in a nice auburn shade. That looked pretty good, and she thought so too, so I bought it.
The day of my appointment at Glamour Shots, I phoned them to confirm the appointment. However, I phoned them in a high-pitched voice, claiming to be my secretary. As the secretary I told them that he was doing this because he lost a bet with me. I asked the Glamour Shots staff to feel free to embarrass him as much as possible.
I arrived for my appointment. The makeup artist and the photo- grapher, both women, were expecting me. They told me that they had spoken to my secretary, and that they were going to take good care of me. They smiled as they said that. They told me to start just as they start any women, by removing my shirt and replacing it with a black tube top that bared my shoulders and came up only to my nipples. So I was starting out in a state of some nakedness as I sat down in the chair.
I opened up a shopping bag and removed a bottle of nail polish that I had bought, and said that my secretary had asked that they do my nails. Although the photographer said that they don't usually do nails as part of the service, she thought it would be fun to do mine, and she proceeded to paint my nails a nice glossy red.
The makeup artist began covering my face with a liquid makeup that she applied with a sponge. Meanwhile when the photographer was finished with my nails, she asked to see the wig I had brought. I told her she could take it out of the shopping bag. She did, and they both oohed and ahhed over it, and told me how pretty I would look in it. The photographer tried it on herself, and started combing it and teasing it until she was satisfied. She also made a crack about how guys like to run their hands through a woman's hair, which made me cringe.
The makeup artist continued her work. When she got to my eyebrows she asked me why I didn't have them waxed before I came. She applied some color to them with a brush. She spent a long time on my eyes, blending several shades of eyeshadow, telling me to look up as she stroked mascara on my lashes, and getting very close to me as she carefully lined my upper and lower lids with a pencil eyeliner. I could not help but feel her breasts against my chest and also feel her breath on me as she did this.
She asked me if I was enjoying this, and if there really had been a bet. Then she said that she bet I was wearing panties under my male pants. And she wanted to know if I was going to a gay club when I was all done. These remarks all served to embarrass me further.
The studio was in the middle of a shopping mall, and customers could see right in. A man and a woman came in to ask why I was doing this, and the man told me they were making look very pretty.
The makeup artist applied a pink blusher with a big brush, and then told me it was time to do my lips. She told me that she thought it was sexy to kiss a man wearing lipstick, and that she kisses her husband while he is wearing lipstick once in a while. This was turning me on a little, but she made no effort to kiss me. She did my lips in a sexy glossy rose color.
When she was done making me up, she put the wig on me, combed it out and sprayed it, and let me look at myself in the mirror. I was amazed at the results. I was not beautiful by any means, but I was a halfway attractive face.
She then took me to the photographer's part of the studio. The two of them showed me a number of blouses and jackets that would fit me. The blouses were in pink and other bright colors, and the jackets had fake jewels on them, leaving no doubt that they were feminine clothes. We met a few selections and the photographer put some clip-on earrings on me. She posed me in a number of obviously feminie poses, some with my hand under my chin coyly showing off my red nails. As she snapped picture after picture she told me how good I was doing, that I was a natural as a model, and how pretty the shots were going to come out. She was obviously having a great time posing me. She teased me that each shot could be seen on a big projector in the mall, and that a lot of passers-by were watching all this.
Finally the shooting was over and they showed me to a room where I could remove the makeup. It took a long time, particularly the eye makeup, and of course I was sure I had missed removing some.
When I was done and back looking like a boy again, they had my proofs ready for me to see. The makeup artist, the photographer, and another female customer were already viewing them and discussing the pros and cons of each shot. A few of them showed some chest hair and were not useable. It was very hard to choose a few to buy, and of course everyone had a different opinion of which shots made me look the cutest. At this point I had been teased and embarrassed there for two hours and I couldn't wait to leave. I finally made a few choices, settled the bill, dipped my fingers in a nail polish remover solution, and left.
I had to do one more thing. I went to a phone booth and phoned the studio pretending to be my secretary. I asked how the session went, and whether I had been suitably embarrassed. Oh yes, the photographer replied, and we had a great time doing it to him too!
I came back in a week to pick up my pictures. They looked nothing like me, and in fact were almost pretty hot. I stopped for a bite to eat, and showed them to the waitress, asking her how old she thought the person in the picture looked. I really wanted to know if a stranger would recognize the pictures were of me. She didn't, and she said the pictures looked an age that is five years younger than what I am.