the delights of Stepmotherhood 4 :Femme fatale

 

(Get part 1 first)

It was when Harvey and 'his conquest' were about to leave us ladies to ourselves, as I had given the gentleman permission to take Joyce for a ride in his new automobile before returning him home in time for dinner, that I saw it. 'It', was me realising how perfect our little lady had become over this relative short period. Without  me fully realising it our darling seemed to have picked up on several delightful affectations and mannerisms on her own. Only a week ago I had already seen him manipulatively pretending to be unsteady in his 5 inch heels and timidly accepting the supporting arm of his 'date'. He successfully pulled off the same charade this time, feigning utter girlish fragility and helplessnes whilst bashfully looking up at his manly suitor, making the enamoured elderly Casanova protectively slip his arm around 'his lady' to support the delicate little thing. All this was accompanied by coquettish little gestures, fluttering lashes and adjusting strains of hair peeping out from under the fabulous 'Dolce&Gabbana' silk headscarf our darling had decided to wear to protect his exquisite new hairdo during the ride and simply to show off. Was Joyce 'playing' him? It was just too good to be accidental, it looked very much like our darling perfectly understood what he/she was doing to the 'bewitched' older gentleman. In fact Joyce seemed at that point to have become an active and seemingly even quite willing participant in my little schemes. Developments that were still a bit unexpected but I think I am really starting to like our little lady. With some help he/she may actually have the makings of a deliciously manipulative little bitch, warming a wicked stepmother's heart.....
I may have underestimated the curiously twisted mind of a young transvestite and  I could very well have inadvertently found myself a 'partner in crime' where I had expected a 'victim'. Sometimes I tend to forget that only a short time ago these girlyboys had actually been oversexed adolescents who were very conscious of the strong erotic feelings girls and women could awaken in boys and men. It was partly that which gives the young transvestite an advantage over real girls his age who still have discover their powers, often by trial and error. Most of these initially heterosexually motivated boys had got hooked partly through fancying their own 'pretend-girl in the mirror' and said pretend-girl had been practicing seductive poses and affectations on him/herself since the very beginning. They knew very well how a lady crossing her nylon encased legs with their exquisite footwear could drive a boy/man crazy, even when it's now their own impossibly high-heeled and stockinged legs doing the job of mercilessly teasing their manly admirers. A pretend-girl has a far better starting point when it comes to 'reading' a suitor.
So when I watched our lovely couple leaving the establishment with Joyce dependently clinging to her beau's arm and the ladies praising me for my delightful little demonstration, I was already thinking of the delicious possibilities the new situation could offer.

Later, when a slightly disheveled Harvey delivered an almost impish looking Joyce home in time for dinner, I once again noticed how my adorable stepson had caused a member of the 'opposite' gender to have a little 'accident' as the gentleman hadn't been able to hide a clearly visible wet patch in his pants. 
Of course my original plan to marry my little lady off to a depraved gentleman like him was put on hold now our 'innocent' young miss seemed to have demoted him to the 'very lucky victim' role, whilst at least partly becoming the perpetrator him/herself. I still want to see Joyce as a beautiful bride but the game seems to be going in a slightly different direction now.
I'm utterly delighted about Joyce's progress, soon I will be fine-tuning her obvious natural talent for picking up delicious feminine foibles like amused contempt, merciless taunting, sublimated frailty and other 'tricks of the trade'. The trade of being an impossibly vain, manipulative and spoiled upper class brat, that is. It's just all going to be so beautifully twisted and wrong.
Obviously there would still be a lot to learn for a young femme fatale in the making but the basics seemed to all be there.

I was still slightly apprehensive about drawing this much attention
to myself on the street where people had actually known me as Josh.
And drawing attention was probably inevitable as I was sure that stepmother
had already carefully selected an extremely glamorous outfit for me to wear.

The day after stepmother had taken me to lunch with her odd ladyfriends, one of these ladies appeared at the house to help me take my deportment skills to the next level. This meant me learning to walk as elegantly and ladylike as possible in my highest heels and tightest skirt whilst at the same time trying to keep that feminine wiggle in my tush. It had to be perfect, the way I held and moved my hands and arms, the way I held my purse, my general posture, everything.... Mrs. Arthuro, who had actually trained runway models in the past, was very strict and the ladies had me practice until I did it exactly the way they wanted. By then I was exhausted and my feet were hurting but the final test was still to come. Mrs. Arthuro decided that it would be a wonderful idea to make me walk her little pooch up and down the lane where we lived looking like a fifties moviestar and stepmother agreed it was a perfect finale to the day. It was a nice, quiet and affluent neighbourhood so there wasn't much real danger but wealthy people were just as nosey as others so I was still slightly apprehensive about drawing this much attention to myself on the street where people had actually known me as Josh. And drawing attention was probably inevitable as I was sure that stepmother had already carefully selected an extremely glamorous outfit for me to wear.

After dinner, in the early evening, my little adventure was to take place as at such an hour it would be relatively quiet and a young lady walking her darling little dog wouldn't look too out of place. Luckily stepmother had kept my get-up quite sedate. The skirt suit with the fox fur collar itself looked almost like something a 'lady' could be wearing to church. That is until one notices that the skirt was just a bit too figure-hugging and the jacket a bit too well tailored. I only later saw the label indcating that it was actually vintage Versace. Underneath I was wearing a darling satin a-cup push-up bra, that made the small fleshy mounds on my chest look like actual little titties, accompanied by a tight 'Kiss me deadly' waist cincher with 6 suspenders holding a gorgeous pair of Cervin fully fashioned nylon stockings. The black patent 5 inch+ pumps had a snakeskin pattern and were definitely not the churchgoing type. As usual I was perfectly made up and I had made an effort with my new hairdo. The ladies had still argued wether I should wear the Dolce&Gabbana headscarf or not but in the end the answer was yes because it was soooo deliciously 'Hollywood chique'....
So at 7.30 that evening the ladies virtually shoved me out the door with little Coco on a pink leather leash attached to a rhinestone collar. To be completely honest my memories of the excursion weren't very detailed as I had slipped in something like a trance that made the adventure feel almost like I was dreaming. Not much dramatic happened as I did my best to promenade down the lane as ladylike as I could whilst trying to look completely aloof and slightly indifferent to the world outside my direct view. Al seemed to go down rather uneventful and even the posh ladies from nr. 34, who were the kind of people who believed 'class' meant wearing wellingtons, plaid skirts and driving a rangerover just gave me a disapproving but uninterested look when their Alsatian showed too much interest in little Coco. Nothing happened until I came to the house of mr. Warren the bank manager who was just leaving the house to walk his beloved dachshund. Mr Warren was known to us youngsters as a stern and rather formal gentleman who wasn't very people-friendly. Which was probably an asset when your job involves refusing people loans. When we almost bumped into each other and our doggies got acquainted the usually grumpy gentleman greeted me with a polite "Ma'am" definitely looking just that tiny bit more benign than usual when we both resumed our walk. It had only been a few seconds but for some reason I had never before realised what an attractive man this stern bank manager actually was and just like when I was first introduced to Harvey I actually felt a shiver going through me. It wasn't like the two gentlemen resembled each other in any way, Harvey being a chubby teddybear whilst Mr. Warren was a very tall almost gangly man, who in his somber black suits could very well have played the role of the creepy undertaker in a cheap horror movie. I just couldn't help it but I wanted him to do all kinds of terribly naughty things with me.... I also realised that with my recently discovered feminine superpowers I could probably have him at a mere snap of my beautifully manicured fingers....
  
 

the delights of Stepmotherhood 3 : a ladies lunch.

(Get part 1 first)

Most of the time stepmother's demeanor appeared to be almost sugary sweet and even when there was always a tone of belittlement in her voice, in general she acted fairly amenable towards me. However, whenever I had the unthinkable audacity to protest or complain, she could also become rather frenzied and menacing. "You're called Joyce now, little lady!" she would exclaim in a hissing, almost hysterical voice. I would of course cringe at her vehement insistence and once more realise that I was completely at my stepmother's mercy. In the end I would timidly mumble a resignating "yes ma'am, of course I am". Almost the same thing happened when she first suggested that a young lady like me should date members of the opposite sex. And learn to like it! Obviously i should have known by then she wouldn't let that one rest....

Of course Josh/Joyce had needed some additional assistance to help convince him to play his role in my wonderful script and that's where my friend, who is a renowned professional hypnotherapist comes in. The point is that unlike most of the fantasist who pretend to hypnotise someone with silly soundfiles, I've actually made a bit of a study of this 'brainwashing' stuff. I know you can't hypnotize people to do things they don't really want to but you can however make them overcome hesitancy and shame over things one secretly likes or just wouldn't mind experiencing, so in the end it's all about reasoning and convincing the subject that these things must be. The point is that most people don't really mind being told what to do or even think as it actually takes away responsibility for their actions. Think of how liberating it can feel not having to make decisions or ever having to worry about consequences. Think how attractive the cop out 'I was just doing what i was told' really is. And having been 'hypnotized' into certain behaviours is a perfectly acceptable alibi for our subconscious mind to welcome such a manner of reasoning.... What makes it all work isn't the trance in itself for that is just the tool to narrow ones consciousness to the point where our inner conversation stops and one is more susceptible. Certain anti-psychotic drugs would do exactly the same. In the end it's making the subject freely choose to put you in command. You have to convince them of the attractiveness of such a choice.

Taking this all in, this is about what one of the last 'sessions' we had with young Joyce before I first introduced him to his 'boyfriend', sounded like....
"....O yes, how exquisitely exciting it'll be to finally see you completely deny your initial reluctance, to see you betray your gender and original sexual orientation and actually revel in your own belittlement and wanton submission to your 'boyfriend'.
And o, how I wish I could see you both squirm and swoon in the arms of your depraved masculine admirer....
I know it is just what you've always secretly dreamed of, sweety. Just what you've subconsciously always wanted. An ultra-feminine young lady, like you 'insist' on becoming, just naturally needs the regular romantic attention of some lascivious older gentleman to feel complete."

Obviously I can only give you an impression as the whole session actually took almost 6 hours of our subject repeating instructions and answering questions. It concluded with this...:

"....And I know that after today you will no longer be able resist this aristocratic looking much older man's hands intimately touching you and holding you close. You will still try to deny it but it's completely obvious now.
His hands may brazenly wander all over your silk encased now so girlish body. He may and you of course hope with all your heart that he will. You know he is going to be a very very close and intimate friend to you now and it feels all so completely right and delightful. The feeling of being desirable and feminine that you get from being so very close to him is completely intoxicating.
Being held and touched so very intimately by such a distinguished much much older man is what you will desperately crave now.
His wrinkly veiny old hands possessively moving all over you and shamelessly fondling your cute little tush and kissing you. It all feels so right. He is so commanding and completely in control whilst you just comply and helplessly yield as he takes charge of his 'little lady'.
Because you know this is really what you have secretly always wanted as your body already agrees and shivers with delight at the mere thought of his ravenous touches and other intimacies.
And you know that from now on you are going to be thinking and reacting like this all the time. You are never going to want to stop feeling like this because it's who you are now.
You enjoy feeling romantic.
It's exciting and appropriate for you to feel this way.
You already have become such a very romantic 'girl' now and you are becoming more and more romantic every day and with every time you listen to me.
You enjoy listening to me because I help you to become more and more feminine.
And as you develop more and more romantic thoughts and feelings you will find yourself wanting to listen more and more as it feels so right for you to become ever more feminine.
 You've already become such a precious, hopelessly romantic 'little lady', always dreaming about being desperately in love with lovely much much older men.
Always dreaming about being as pretty as possible for these much older men and thinking about how good it feels to be in the arms of such a darling elderly gentleman.
How wonderfully girly it feels to be held in his strong manly arms.
And as you think of these things you feel all warm and tingly inside.
Feeling so desirable and cherished whenever you are with your elderly 'boyfriend'. Because you adore this slightly authoritative elderly gentleman.
You really really like much older men now. Elderly men are so excitingly masculine to an ultra-feminine boyprincess like you and you compulsively want to make them lust after you and to get them to passionately make out with you.
In fact whenever you meet such an elderly man or fantasise about these much older men you will almost instantly become horny and aroused.
Always acutely wanting him to look at you and speak to you. Wanting him to notice you and to notice how horny you are for 'him'. You will actually love these gentlemen for belittling you and making you feel so completely helpless, delicate and fragile. You would do almost anything for a man like that because your  intense feminine feelings of romance and sexuality are all rolled into one unstoppable wave that makes you want to belong to him completely."

Evidently our little lady wouldn't really remember much of what was actually said during these sessions as the drugs had made her conscious mind take a 'backseat' but that doesn't make the proces any less effective. When the time comes his Joyce persona will know....

The week after the exciting but also very disturbing 'date' with Harvey, the older gentleman my stepmother had chosen to act as my boyfriend, she had me accompany her to have lunch in town with her small circle of strange lady friends. Of course i was dressed to the nines in a delightful little skirt suit that had a very narrow pencil skirt and a delicious tailored jacket in powderblue satin over a creme coloured silk camisole. And clearly fully fashioned nylons and black patent pumps with a 5 inch heel.  There was also a matching Gucci handbag and Rhonda had done a fabulous job on my own now peroxide blonde hair that with the help of a few

fully fashioned nylons and black patent
pumps with a 5 inch heel

switches had been done up in a fabulous high ponytail with bangs at the front. Stepmommy was clearly determined to show of her 'wonderful creation' to her friends. Evidently i was a big succes but i was a little surprised the ladies seemed to know all about stepmothers 'delightful' schemes and plans which they seemed to find extremely amusing, especially when mommy triumphantly informed the ladies that i now had a 'boyfriend', which had been cause for giggles and felicitations. Next bombshell was stepmother telling her friends that they would be able to see for themselves as the gentleman in question would actually be joining us later.... No sooner had she divulged this when an aristocratic looking older gentleman in an expensive suit entered the establishment and started moving towards our table.

After I had nervously greeted the gentleman I had for some inexplicable reason been so disturbingly intimate with the week before, the elderly casanova had almost immediately drawn me close and he had intimately kissed me just like I was his 'girlfriend' for real, and still being a bit dazed and overcome by the whole situation I once again just couldn't resist kissing him back.  The ladies, enjoying their mainly fluid lunch whilst keenly watching the happenings and seeing the man's brazen amorous advaces and my reactions to them, whispered an approving, "Ooooolala!".  Now feeling completely overcome in his manly arms, I noticed myself almost instinctively surrendering to 'him' by slithering my slender body up against him, whilst he in return let his hands wander from my waist to gently fondle my silk encased girly bum.  I could already feel his growing erection pressing against me through the flimsy materials of my dress and I just couldn't help feeling proud that I made him want me so much that his manhood was reacting this way. Kissing me again I felt his delicious thick muscular tongue entering my mouth with determination.  The kiss became more and more passionate with me actively cooperating in the intimate mouth contact as the ladies started making comments: "Whoo-ee!"  "Look at them, they are actually making out !"  "Isn't it delightful?"  "Show us how much you are in love with him, princess!"
I did exactly that of course and hadn't my darling stepmother and her friends been such respected clients of the up-market establishment, we would probably have been asked to leave.
By now I was obviously  so deeply immerged into my role that I actually loved every minute of it and moaned softly under my "boyfriend's" kisses and was actually starting to believe I was really deeply in love with this depraved elderly gentleman. The 'ladies' seemed to have the time of their lives....

An ultra-feminine young lady, like you 'insist' on becoming,
just naturally needs the regular romantic attention of some
lascivious older gentleman to feel complete.