Like I said, seeing my Aunt still wearing her sleeping gown wasn't any real surprise, especially as she for the most part kept herself well hidden enough beneath the thin robe she wore over it. Jill on the other hand left very little to the imagination, which my aunt briefly commented on, though making more of a joke about it, rather than admonishing my cousin for her somewhat inappropriate attire. All she was wearing was what they call a "wife beater" for a top, which she slept in, and a pair of short, men's boxers. I thought she looked sexy as hell in them, especially as her pert small breasts could be so easily seen pressing against the tight white tee shirt."Good morning sleepy-head," my aunt had said. "Was just about to send Jack here up to wake you, though it's probably good I didn't," she said giving her daughter an obvious look at her appearance.Jill had walked around the kitchen table giving mom an affectionate hug, and then a kiss on the cheek, likewise moving back around. It tugged relentlessly as she wound the strands of hairaround it, bringing it tight to my head. Mistress knew I likedthe feeling of the iron, so she twisted it slowly and forcefullyon each curl, dwelling on the process and solidifying thepowerlessness of my transition.As she finished with the curling iron, Mistress took a can ofhairspray and misted it all over my head, stiffening the hair anddefining the unmistakably feminine mass of curls. The spray waslike a magical mist, spreading its aroma throughout the room andlanding in small particles on every curve of my body.The body shaper gripped my upper body in its satin embrace,pushing out my upper chest into an approximation of femalebreasts. From time to time, Mistress would reach in as she wasperforming her ritual and squeeze a nipple between her glossyfingernails. She provided constant reminders of my powerlessness,bringing my body to a sensually painful awareness of itstransition away from masculinity.My legs, shaved smooth, had.
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