From alt.sex.stories.tg Sun May 5 00:52:29 1996

Path: mordred.cc.jyu.fi!news.csc.fi!news.eunet.fi!EU.net!uunet!in1.uu.net!news.i-link.net!usenet

From: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.tg

Subject: Story - Jimstory.txt

Date: Sat, 27 Apr 1996 09:06:28 -0500

Organization: I-Link

Lines: 300

Message-ID: <knigxY5faVhK090yn@i-link.net>

Reply-To: LabRat@i-link.net (Karen Mitchell)

NNTP-Posting-Host: austin-2-8.i-link.net

Mime-Version: 1.0

Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1

Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit

I did not write this and you must be 18 or over to read it as it may

contain a great deal of adult explicit sexuality. If this is

offensive do not read - delete file. For those of us who enjoy ....

enjoy! Please do not ask for files by e-mail - I can barely keep up

with what I have now.

> JIMMIE'S STORY

> by Barb Morton

My second coat of polish has just dried and my shoulder length

layered brown hair is drying in curlers. Jessie, my wife, is

working this morning and isn't due home for at least two hours.

That should give me an hour or so to take them out, and lightly

spray it into my latest style. Heaven help me if it's not right

before she gets home! It's a special Saturday for Jess and I. Why

is a guy who only a year ago liked to hunt, drink beer and go out

with the guys worried about his hair and nails, you ask? Well let

me tell you ...

It began a year ago on a Friday night. I'd been working late at

my job as a construction engineer, and Jessie and I had planned

to go out for dinner when I got home at about eight o'clock. Jess

had lately been under a lot of stress at work, she's a fashion

designer, due to a new boss who couldn't make up his mind on what

he wanted for the fall season in the women's clothes line. As a

result, the amount of time she spent on keeping up her appearance

had decreased to the point where it had really begun to show, at

least to me. Her mid-back length dark hair and elegent long

pefectly polished nails had always been major turn ons for me.

Lately though she had been wearing her hair up so she didn't have

to wash it every day. Occasionally now one or more of her nails

would be broken or the polish chipped for several days before she

did something about it. I complained so much that she finally

made some changes. She had her hair cut to just shoulder length

and permed into loose curls, it would be easier to care for she

said. She trimmed her nails back to just a slight edge and

stopped polishing them completely. I was crushed, those short

nails were just not the same. Her hair did look better for a

while though, until it began to grow out and she "just didn't

have time to get it done".

This particular Friday, she knew I would be working late getting

ready for a week-long business trip I'd leave on the next

morning. I'd planned to leave early Saturday morning so that I

could go fishing with some friends before my meetings began on

Monday. With a couple of hours to spare, I figured she would have

time to fix herself up before we went out. When she came

downstairs after I got home I couldn't believe my eyes! She

hadn't washed her hair for three days now and had just brushed it

back and pinned it in place over her ears. The polish she had

finally put on a week ago was chipped in several places and about

half of her right index finger didn't have any polish at all.

Well, I just lost it. I told her, among other things, that she

looked like a drowned rat and a slut. With that, she just stopped

talking and glared at me with pursed lips for what seemed like an

hour, and then said words I'll never forget, in an angry yet

calculating tone, "Well, just enjoy your trip! By next week-end,

we'll have this hair and nails hassle fixed, for good!" With that

she stormed out of the house and I didn't see her again before I

left the next morning.

The next Friday, as I drove into my driveway, I figured the old

Jess would be waiting for me. I naively thought her last words to

me had meant she would take the week I was gone to get herself

together to satisfy me. How wrong I was! As I opened the front

door, I called to her and heard a sweet calm answer from the

living room. I did a double take when I saw the woman reading in

the easy chair. It was Jess alright, but what a difference.

Instead of the dress and heels I expected, she had on jeans,

sneakers, and a sweatshirt. That's how I had normally dressed

around the house. She didn't have on a hint of makeup and her

hair was no longer than an inch or two and brushed into a

modified side part, kind of like mine had been before I had begun

to let it grow out recently. Worse yet, she had trimmed her nails

below her finger tips, again just like a man. "I'm so glad you're

home dear. We have so much planned for tonight." "Are you

kidding! I'm not taking you out looking like this!" "Of course

not dear", she said calmly, "I'm taking YOU out tonight. Margret

is waiting and we have her shop reserved for the entire evening."

Margret was Jess' beautician, at least she had been before she

lost interest in going. "What's she going to do", I said, "glue

your hair back on?" Jess was unaffected by this remark, she just

smiled and said in a calm, low tone, like something to a child,

"No dear, but your's is just a fright! It's going to take hours

for her to color, perm, cut, and style it. It will be midnight by

the time she's done with all that and your manicure." I couldn't

believe my ears. "Are you crazy", I said, "You're the one who

needs help, not me!" "No dear", that tone again, "from now on the

beautiful head and hands in this family are going to be yours.

Unless, of course, you'd like prints of these sent to your boss

and coworkers?" As she spoke she reached behind her chair and

picked up a stack of eight by ten color prints. She held them up

one by one as I watched in horror. A few years back I had wanted

to try some kinky sex. So we had gotten together with some

friends and also hired some "pro" help to assist us. One of the

things we'd tryed was role reversal, but only for a couple of

nights, just to see what the "other side" was like. I had put on

a dress, heels, and makeup and performed the female part of oral

sex for a couple of males. I felt so uncomfortable with that

scene that we had dropped the whole "experimental" idea not long

after. I never knew there were any photos, but here I was dressed

and in the act in living color. "The tapes I had taken are

better, but you get the idea. I hadn't ever planned to use them

for anything but a funny present for you, but you've been such a

pain lately that I thought it was time you tasted some of your

own medicine. From now on, whenever you're in my sight, your hair

will be done, to my satisfaction. It's hardly long enough now but

you'll have time to adjust to your nails as it grows out. They

will be lengthened and polished tonight. You'll need the week-end

to get used to your new TWO INCH nails. I expect them to be

flawlessly polished and perfectly shaped whenever you are in my

sight. If they or your hair fall short of perfection, these

pictures go out. How you explain your hands at work is your

business, however I've picked out a nice male wig for you to wear

on the job. That means pinning up your hair every morning before

you leave, and taking it down and setting it every night when you

come home before I arrive. But after all, you do want to please

me don't you? "What's a few minutes for a beauty routine to

please your partner?" Her mockery of the words I had used so

often stung deeply, but what could I do? One look at those

pictures and my boss would make sure I'd never work in

construction again. How would I explain my hands though? I

thought about that all evening as Margret worked me over.

It was a long, long night. Jess had decided that my natural light

brown hair color just didn't please her. No, it had to be dark

auburn with reddish highlights. So my hair was bleached, colored,

hightlighted, and conditioned. Margret and Jess then examined my

hair closely to decide how to perm and cut it so it would "grow

out gracefully". "At least it grows quickly.", I said, trying to

have some input on things. "True", said Jess, "but only sluts let

their roots show. You'll need a touch up at least twice a month.

By the way, here's a picture of your final style, once your hair

has grown out to my satisfaction." Her neatly trimmed hands held

open a book showing a woman with below shoulder length hair. It

was styled in back in a complex cascade of loose and interlocking

curls. The sides fell across the face in layers of smooth

sweeping waves, and the front had a neat wave as it rose from the

forehead ending in a fan of curls atop the head. "But for now,

dear, a cap of loose curls will have to do." Another two hours

elapsed while my now dark hair was permed, then combed out and

lightly sprayed. During the time between these steps, Margret

fashioned a long, oval acrylic nail on each of my finger tips. By

the time my hair was done, it was time for the polish. "For fall,

a warm color. I think a deep burgandy will look nice on you",

said Margret. "Now Jim, every two weeks or so you'll need a fill

in as your own nails grow out. Tonight was a special favor for

Jess, for fills and to repair breaks, you'll just have hours.

After you're used to them, you shouldn't break one very often.

You can get your fills when you have your roots done." I was too

stunned and confused to say or do anything. I closed my eyes but

the smell of hairspray and fresh nail polish intruded and

reminded me of how they had always turned me on when I'd picked

Jess up at the beauty parlor. I opened my eyes and stared at the

lovely, delicate nails on my own hands and incredibly began to

become aroused! "Time to go home dear", said Jess, "You know

after we come from Margrets' is always our special time." Jess

held all the doors for me on the way home. I had to hold my hands

out with fingers apart to avoid smudging my new polish. I lay

flat on my back that night as Jess undressed me and made

incredible love to me. She kept telling me how much my hair

turned her on as she ran her fingers through it over and over and

begged me to dig my nails into her rear as we made love. I fell

asleep thinking it would all be over in the morning.

It wasn't, that's for sure. I slipped on a robe and came down to

breakfast as soon as I awoke next morning. Jess was there, in the

same sweatshirt and jeans as the night before. She turned toward

me and a look of disgust came over her face. "Look at you! Not

dressed and your hair a matted mess. Where's your self-respect?

Get upstairs and come down put together DEAR or the pictures go

out right now!" "But Jess..." "NOW!" I went upstairs for the

first of many morning beauty rituals. As I retreated I reached up

to rub my eyes and almost poked them out. I had to carefully

manuever the side of my little finger to my eye while holding my

hand away from my face to just rub my eye. That was only the

beginniung. I soon found out that with long nails I had to learn

to use my hands all over again and all the movements required

were distintly feminine ones. My hair was sweaty from the night

before and had to be shampooed. It took me a full minute to

figure out how to open the bottle. I couldn't reach directly down

to pick up a hairbrush but had to turn my hand over and use the

flats of my fingers. The handle of the brush had to be held in

the tips of my fingers as the long, burgandy nails wouldn't let

me close my hand over the handle. Doorknobs, clothes buttons,

toothbrushes, and shoelaces were now all a major challenge to

use. Worst of all they all required delicate handling, with the

sides of my fingers, the others outstretched and separated. What

I'd always considered as just a pretty accessory, on Jess, turned

out to require a whole new feminine lifestyle on me. When after

an hour I was finally dressed and coiffed, I went back to

breakfast. "Got to run.", said Jess, "I'll be back after my golf

game. Don't forget the dishes when you finish breakfast." She

patted my rear as she went by and then left the house without

another word. A fit when my hair is a little matted and she

doesn't even notice after I get ready for an hour, I thought. I

broke two nails and chipped the rest doing the dishes. That meant

back to the beauty parlor, and on a Saturday afternoon! I had to

find a pencil to dial the phone and when I got through Margret

said to come right down. Not too bad, I thought, just a quick

trip in and out, maybe nobody I know will see me. I slipped in

the backdoor trying to hide my hands, forgeting I had a very

unmanly new hairstyle. The women in the shop all giggled,

pointed, and wispered to each other as I spoke to Margret. To my

horror, she was running behind and I had to wait in the front of

the shop for an hour reading Glamour and Cosmopolitan. Then

another wait and more snickers after repairs while my nails dryed

before I could go home. Jane, my best friends' wife walked in,

did a double take, and laughed out loud. I told her Jess and I

had a costume party to go to that night, in an attempt to

explain. "That's not what I heard, Jimmy. And you'd better learn

not to lie to Jess' friends or we'll spread the word around." I

was so embarrassed and confused I just got up and ran to the back

door. Margret stopped me and asked for twenty rendered. I'd put

my pants on with the pockets full that morning and now found to

my dismay that I couldn't get my wallet out of my rear pocket!

"You'll find a purse a much handier way to carry your things",

said Margret as she fished out my wallet, "It'll be easier on

your nails too." All I had was a check, and filling it out was my

first attempt at writing. In order to do so I had to hold the pen

far up the shaft and loosely to accomodate my nails. The loose,

open swirls that I wrote were not my own but seemed to come from

a feminine hand. Wasn't anything going to be the same again? At

home, I just lay down exhausted until I heard Jess return. As I

rose I reached up and, in a motion soon to become automatic,

patted my hair. It was flat in back of course, so I had another

match with the hairbrush. The rest of that weekend is just a blur

of embarrassment, helplessness, and fear made worse by Jess'

patronizing manner when I looked 'right', and total unwillingness

to accept the tinyest defect in my appearance.

Monday morning, I rose an hour earlier than normal, stripped off

my polish, tucked my curls up under a short man styled wig and

drove off to work. I decided just not to say anything about my

hands and just endure the ridicule. I'll never forget everyones'

stares. After only an hour my boss called me in and asked what

the h--l was going on. I told him my wife had bet me that I

couldn't live with longnails (which was almost the truth) and I

had taken her up on the wager. "Well, I'm not amused. You've

disrupted the entire office and there's no way I'm sending you

out to a job-site like that." This last at least was temporary

relief, I thought. "Take the afternoon off and go home and get

normal. And before you come in tomorrow get rid of that

ridiculous wig. She didn't shave your head did she?" If only he

knew the truth!

I begged and pleaded that night, I even offered never to say

anything to Jess about her appearance ever again if only I could

go back to work as myself. "You just don't understand, Jimmy."

Now even my wife was calling me Jimmy which, until three days

ago, I'd never allowed anyone to do. "I just adore the new you.

In fact I've been considering further improvements. Perhaps

pierced ears or shaped brows?" "No, no, please no Jess!", I

pleaded. "Then NOT ANOTHER WORD!" And that was that. I tryed to

go in early and look extremely busy the next morning, but as soon

as Dick arrived he called me in again. He was short and to the

point. "I'm giving you a one week leave until Monday. I checked

with ER and I can't fire you if you don't start acting like a

man, but I can reassign you by eliminating your job. Don't make

me do it, Jim." I slunk out a broken man. My pleadings earned me

a trip to Margrets' and two small gold studs in my ears and well

as a pedicure. I stripped the polish, removed the studs, and

combed the wig over my ears on Monday morning but I didn't think

it would do any good. It didn't. "I see you've chosen to defy

me", said Dick in a manly tone of authority I dimly remembered

having just a few weeks ago. "In that case," he said, handing me

a file with several papers inside, "I'm saddened to inform you

that your previous position has been eliminated. We have been

able to reassign you however, as the new receptionist, at $200

per week. I hope the shock of meeting your former colleages at

the door with coffee and a smile will either shock you back to

your senses or prompt you to seek medical help to complete your

change. Good day, Jimmy. And bring me a cup of black coffee,

please." Incredibly, I hung on at work for nine months. Shunned

by my friends, hooted by my wifes friends, and ultimately ignored

by all my past associates. Jess was pleasant, but unrelenting,

though I didn't know what difference it would make by then even

if she did send out the pictures, I was ruined anyhow. Luckily,

her boss had loved her last designs. She claimed her new role had

freed her to spend her creative energy on something productive

and leave the cosmetics to me. So not only was I an outcast, but

my wife was supporting us as a designer at her firm. I was in

such shock I simply fell into my new role. The delicate gestures

began to become second nature. I was shocked one morning when I

caught myself gazing at my nails at arms length wondering whether

it was time to change to pastels for spring. I'd finally given up

and gotten a purse, which I kept in my lower desk drawer at work

just like any other secretary. My only pleasure was sex with

Jess, which was absolutely great, but which I recieved only when

I was absolutely perfect. I began to worry whether my hair and

nails were just right or not. I went to Margrets' twice a week,

and built up quite a collection of polish, earings, combs,

shampoo, and other necessaries. For our anniversary, Jess bought

me a lighted vanity table and put it in the corner of the

bedroom. Jess would watch as I sat and arranged my now shoulder

length hair. She smiled as she came up behind me one night, as I

held a mother of pearl hand mirror behind my head and lightly

pattted my curls into place, touching the strands of silky hair

with two inch crimson nails that were now my own.