The New Girl

Timmy’s stomach fluttered with nervous excitement as he stepped off of 
the plane. He’d been waiting for this moment for years, and his first 
view of the island didn’t disappoint him at all. It wasn’t the lovely 
greenery or the brilliant sunset that left him in awe, although those 
delights did register dimly on his senses. The sight that had him so 
captivated was the crowd that milled around the open square.

There were women there, hundreds of women. Timmy was sure he had never 
seen so many women in one place before in his life. They hardly seemed 
to notice his presence as they walked gracefully by, chatting and 
laughing, but Timmy couldn’t help but stare as he tried to take in the 
rounded arms, the smooth legs, the curves of breasts and hips…

He looked so out of place standing there, mesmerized, that it didn’t 
take long for Angela to find him. “Timmy!” she called, to get his 
attention. “Come with me, and let’s get you cleaned up. You have a long 
night ahead of you.”

* * *

Angela led Timmy to the shower room, where two other women were waiting 
for them. They had already started one of the showers when Timmy 
arrived. “Strip,” the shorter one ordered him, not wasting any more 
time. Timmy took a deep breath and peeled himself out of his clothes. 
Before he had a chance to react to the situation, his arms were above 
his head as one woman lathered his armpits and the other began shaving 
his face until it was as smooth as her own. Angela massaged a shampoo 
into his hair with a scent that reminded him of flowers. She moved on to 
conditioner as the taller of the two unfamiliar women began meticulously 
removing all the hair from around his scrotum. As her hands danced just 
inches from his penis, Timmy felt a tingling energy build up in the area 
she was so carefully shaving. He was starting to get noticeably hard.

He was distracted by a hard pinch on his ass. He looked up directly into 
the shorter woman’s eyes. 

“Are you going to let her finish, or are we going to have to send you 
back home?” she asked him sternly. The thought of having to go back 
after everything he’d been through to get here was so miserable that his 
erection died immediately. “I’m going to let her finish,” he told the 
woman.

* * *

Once they had shaved, scrubbed and rinsed him to their satisfaction, the 
women patted him dry and directed him to sit on a low bench that ran 
against one side of the wall. The tall woman began to spread a section 
of one leg with a thick, sticky, honey-colored glue. Angela handed her a 
strip of cloth, and she pressed it down. Timmy wasn’t at all prepared 
for the stinging pain of having it ripped off, along with any nearby 
hair. He gritted his teeth as the process was repeated, but after the 
fourth or fifth strip, he couldn’t help but whimper a little as each 
successive patch was stripped smooth. When the pain finally stopped, he 
found himself trembling a little as Angela wiped his legs clean of wax 
with a warm washcloth. She smoothed a cooling lotion over his sore skin 
and gave him a knowing smile. She looked over at the shorter woman and 
nodded.

The woman led Timmy out of the showers and up the stairs, leaving Angela 
and the tall woman behind. As they walked, they passed several others, 
and Timmy was even more conscious of his nakedness now that he had no 
hair to hide himself from view. By the time the two of them reached 
their destination, he was very obviously blushing.

“Sit there,” she pointed, ignoring the redness of his face. He sat and 
stared around the room. It was filled with piles and racks of clothing, 
all sizes, all styles, all of it obviously women’s. As he wondered which 
of it he would get to wear, the woman returned with a pair of knee-high 
stockings and a garter belt.

The stockings, he saw as she pulled them over his toes, were lacy and 
black. Timmy stood up at her prompting and she finished fastening them 
to the garter belt. She left him for another few seconds to fetch an 
artfully padded bra, which she deftly hooked around his chest. The bra 
gave him enough of a suggestion of breasts for the camisole she pulled 
on over his head to drape as it would on a woman. Around his waist went 
a flared red skirt, short enough for there to be quite a bit of space 
between its hem and the tops of his stockings. The woman had Timmy sit 
down again as she strapped a pair of matching strappy high heels to his 
stockinged feet.

He managed to stay upright when she pulled him to his feet, though he 
did wobble a little. As he struggled to establish his balance, he caught 
sight of his reflection in a full-mirror that stood against the wall to 
his left. At first, he almost thought he was looking at a girl. His cock 
began to rise under the skirt as he looked at himself, made over into a 
woman. 

* * *

As the woman practically dragged Timmy back downstairs, keeping a firm 
grip on his arm as he tripped and stumbled over the high heels, the two 
of them passed by the same strangers Timmy had noticed before. Now, 
instead of just embarrassment, Timmy felt a surge of arousal at the 
sight of their eyes following the false curve of his breasts, peeking 
under his skirt, and mocking his inability to walk steadily in his 
feminine shoes. It was humiliating to know that so many people were 
seeing him dressed as a girl, but at the same time, it was making him 
incredibly horny. 

Any softness that might have been left in his cock disappeared when he 
saw Angela again. Dressed now in a little black dress that hugged her 
small, firm breasts and tight ass, she reclined on a couch in a 
candlelit room. “Come here to me, Timmy,” she said in a soft, low voice. 
The other woman stepped out of the room, letting the door click shut 
behind her. Timmy could have sworn that the room had the same floral 
aroma as the shampoo Angela had used to wash his hair. As he walked over 
to kneel down in front of her, he imagined Angela rubbing the lather 
into his hair… over his shoulders… across his chest, over his ass… he 
called up the memory of a woman’s hands shaving his pubic hair, only 
this time, the hands were Angela’s, and they weren’t holding a razor. 
They were holding him, and caressing him, and…

“Timmy, you make a lovely girl.” He looked up at her, startled. “I need 
my pussy licked, Timmy-girl,” she said distractedly. “Go ahead and lick 
my pussy for me.”

She spread her legs for him and he got his first glimpse of that lovely, 
pink flesh. She shifted on the couch with sighs of pleasure as he began 
to lick and tease at her clit. Timmy breathed in the heat and wetness of 
her pussy, and his cock stiffened, brushing his skirt with precum. He 
had to keep himself under control. He could tell from Angela’s moans as 
he continued to circle her clit with his tongue that she *needed* him to 
keep going. He couldn’t let her down. She was writhing now, and Timmy 
had to hold on to her hips to keep his head positioned squarely between 
them. He probed her vagina with his tongue. “Oh, God.” Her moans were 
louder now. Timmy's hands caressed her as he continued to lick and suck 
at her pussy, especially her sensitive clit. Before he realized what was 
happening, he was tasting sweet wetness as her body shook with orgasm.

As Angela’s breathing slowed, Timmy returned to his respectful position, 
kneeling just to one side of the couch. Angela pushed an errant strand 
of hair back from her flushed and shining face, and smoothed the front 
of her dress as she sat up. “Thank you, Timmy-girl.” She leaned forward 
to kiss him gently on the forehead. “I’ll see you again tomorrow, okay?”

Timmy was happier than he had ever been as he settled in to his new 
pink-and-cream room, and he knew that every day could only get better.