Transforming Genevieve

It's been eleven years since I earned my doctorate in English Literature from a prominent mid-western university. I moved to Boston when I accepted a professorship at Regis College to teach pre seventeen hundred English Lit. I expected to be at Regis for three or four years at the most. My expectations never came to pass and four years ago I received my tenure papers. I suppose a career at Regis is a distinct possibility.

My profession is pre 1700 English Lit, but my passion is writing erotic novelettes. I live in a one bedroom flat near the historic district of Boston and often travel to Manhattan to enjoy both Broadway shows, and an occasional off Broadway play. I've never considered the possibility of marriage, and the thought of giving birth isn't something I have the least bit of interest in.

I suppose my fellow professors at Regis see me as somewhat stuffy since my wardrobe around campus consists of unflattering sweaters, long skirts and flat shoes. My long brunette hair is always pulled up in a bun with a pencil stuck through it. None of my male counterparts have ever shown the least bit of interest in me.

At thirty-six I still have a rather firm figure. My breasts are a petite 34B cup and my slim waistline flares nicely at my hips. I stand five feet five inches tall. My green eyes contrast very nicely with my straight brunette hair.

I have often fantasized of becoming one of the characters in my erotic stories, but have never had the nerve to bring any of those fantasies to reality. That is until my most recent trip to Manhattan. Several weeks earlier I had come across the internet web page of a small theater group that described themselves as erotically offbeat. The schedule of their productions listed a show titled "Taboos". Since my novelettes sometimes deal with social taboos I decided to order a ticket for a Saturday afternoon matinee. I made reservations at the hotel I usually stay at when visiting New York and looked forward to spending two days away from Boston.

The Friday afternoon of my trip I had wanted to get on the road early. Maybe even make it to Manhattan before the evening rush hour. The best laid plans can change in an instant. Mine happened to be changed by several students who wanted some additional help with a rather difficult assignment I'd given my advanced English Lit class. I finally made it out of my office at about 4:45PM. As I walked down the long hall of the English department that Friday afternoon Richard S. Davidson came walking out of his class room just as I approached.

"Evening Ms. Walker, you're here late tonight aren't you?" He asked me.

I half smiled at him and replied, "Yes, Richard, I had planned on leaving early today, but I had to help a couple of my students with an assignment." I added, "By the way Richard I'd appreciate if you would call me by my first name. Ms. Walker sounds so matronly.

Richard had a keen memory for all the characters in Sir William Shakespeare's novels, but when it came to remembering the simple things he often fell a little short.

He looked at me and said, "Oh okay," He paused for a moment. I knew he was trying to remember my first name. Finally he came up with it. "Gen I will remember that."

I wondered if he knew that Gen is short for Genevieve.

"So Gen what plans have been delayed this afternoon?" Richard asked.

"I'm going to New York to see a matinee tomorrow afternoon." I replied.

Richard said, "Well you should still be able to make your show time."

"Oh course Richard." I said. "But I may miss my dinner reservation."

"Oh, so you're going to Manhattan tonight?" He asked as the light bulb above his head turned on.

"That's right Richard." I said with my best sarcastic tone of voice and lengthening the syllables of the words that's and right.

"Well don't let me hold you up Ms Walker." He said obviously somewhat perturbed by my sarcastic tone of voice.

As I walked away he said, "See you Monday morning then."

I didn't answer mostly because I couldn't care less if I saw Richard Monday or not.

My seven year old Volvo was parked half way across the parking lot. As I approached the driver door I hoped it would make it to New York and back again. I was going to have to break down soon and shop for a new vehicle.

Traffic was of course heavy as I drove south on I-95 toward Manhattan. I wasn't going to make good time tonight and knew it would be a room service meal for me tonight. Pulling into the hotel parking lot two hours after my dinner reservation I patted the old Swede on the dashboard and thanked it for getting me into town.

The garage attendant lifted my travel case out of the trunk, handed me a parking slip and asked, "How long will you be staying with us Madam?"

"Sunday morning." I replied without evening turning my head to speak to him. I hate when people speak to me as if I was someone's grandmother. Just because a woman doesn't flaunt herself everywhere doesn't mean they can't be called Miss.

The handsome young man behind the main desk as well as the bell boy both greeted me with Evening Madam, earning himself a three dollar tip instead of my usual five.

As I unpacked my suitcase every stitch of clothing I pulled out screamed Madam to me. It was quite depressing and I made up my mind that before the matinee tomorrow afternoon I was going shopping for something that would have all three of those men calling me Miss.

Ordering room service about eight forty five, I sat down at my laptop thinking I'd write a few paragraphs in my latest novelette. I'm not sure if it was writers block or the idea that I was sick and tired of being called Madam, but instead I found myself surfing the internet for clothing shops in city that might have a cure for my "Madam" blues.

Room service showed up with my burger fries and diet coke just as I was looking at some rather risqué outfits on at site for a store called Unique Boutique. I closed the computer and opened the door to my room. A young man stood there waiting to push my food cart into the room.

"Evening Madam, he said.

I almost screamed at him, but held my composure and just motioned for him to push the cart over near the small desk where my laptop was sitting.

He left without saying a word, and I handed him a five as his tip for holding his tongue and not calling me Madam again.

I nibbled on my burger as I resumed my internet search for an outfit that better suited my fantasies then the boring reality of my life in Boston. As I got deeper and deeper into the results of my search I started getting into some sites that specialized in some of the kinkier clothing. I looked at leather and latex outfits of all kinds. I decided those would be a little too much. After all I wanted men to call me Miss, not Hey slut.

I did find one web store that offered very tasteful but sexy, or should I say sexy in my eyes, outfits. I especially like the assortment of silk and nylon stockings they featured on their web site. I jotted down the Manhattan address of their retail store, and planned on visiting the next morning.

I decided to turn in early, leaving a half a burger and a full plate of fries just outside my door. I saw no need to close the drapes since I was 20 floors above the bustling streets of The Big Apple.

I began to undress to change into my pajamas. Pulling my big bulky sweater over my head the material caught the pencil that was still holding my hair up in a bun. It pulled out and as the sweater came off my hair cascaded down across my shoulders. I looked up and noticed that I was standing directly in front of the full length mirror mounted on the wall at the end of the low hotel room dresser. Looking at my reflection I thought. Look at you Genevieve it's no wonder all the men you meet call you Madam.

My long skirt hid my legs, the flats on my feet didn't even approach fashionable, let alone being even the least little bit flattering. My white cotton bra and the matching panties were functional but all too plain. My hair while very long hung straight down from my head. I shook my head disgusted with my appearance. Well at least I still had my very green eyes and almost jet-black hair color.

I watched myself undress as my skirt slid down my legs and I stepped out of it I kicked off those horrible flats. I wondered if I'd remember how to walk in heels. My cotton underwear came off next, and I was left staring at my now naked reflection in the mirror. The dark triangle of my pubic hair completely hid my pussy. My petite breasts still look like they did when I was twenty-three. The areola surrounding my nipples are a little larger than I think they should be, but they circled a pair of nipples that when erect get very hard and form tiny sensitive nubs.

I slid my hands up across my flat stomach and rib cage to slide my fingers over my tits and nipples. Totally naked I didn't look too bad. Tomorrow I'd see about making over the trimmings that covered and hid my body for far too long. Picking up my pj's I looked at them and decided to sleep naked tonight.

I climbed into bed and set the alarm for seven. The cool sheets felt very nice on my naked body. I again slid my hands up my body and onto my breasts. My sensitive nipples responded to my hands and hardened into those tiny nubs. It felt very erotic lying in a distance hotel room, many floors above the street and totally naked. My mind began to envision a strange man standing over me. Watching me touch my breasts. I let one hand slid down between my thighs and over my pussy. As I moved my fingers up one slipped between the lips and sensed the moisture that had started to warm my body.

One fingertip slid up and circled the fleshy covering of my clitoris. I moaned to myself and the imaginary man that was watching my actions. I could almost see his member swell under his pants.

My clit swelled as I massaged it with my middle finger and my other hand brought my nipples to their hardest most sensitive condition. Spreading my legs I slipped my finger between the lips of my ever moistening slit coating it with my juices. Withdrawing that finger I lifted it toward the stranger watching me in my minds eye, before I brought it to my lips to taste its coating. My tongue licked at the digit tasting the musty fluids of a woman who last showered some 18 hours earlier. It tasted somewhat salty but not the least bit offensive. After licking my finger clean for my imaginary voyeur I slid my hand back toward the spot that had supplied those salty, musty droplets.

I slid two fingers across the hard nub of my clit and then curled them under and into my pussy. My breath started coming in shorter gasps as my fingers continued to massage my wetter and wetter pussy. I pinched one erect nipple and felt a ring of pleasure spread outward from my nipple. My imaginary lover watched intently as I continued pleasuring myself. Closer and closer I moved to my ultimate goal of yet another self induced orgasm. The tingling deep in my loins began as I approached that orgasm. Building slowly at first, but becoming more intense as my fingers worked at a feverish pace.

It crashed over me like a title wave of pleasure, I moaned deeply as my orgasm turned my body into a twitching mass of sensuality. My eyes closed as my orgasm began to subside and when I opened them a moment later my imaginary lover was gone.

I'd once again had to rely on my own fingers to satisfy my needs, but I was bound and determined to change that as soon as possible. Closing my eyes I fell into a restful sleep, knowing the next morning would begin that transformation.

The sunlight was streaming in the window as the alarm blared at me the next morning. I reached over and hit the snooze button, then remembered I had some transforming to do today so I rolled out of bed and walked to the bath.

Looking at my naked body in the bathroom mirror I decided to start the transformation with a trimming of the dark triangle of hair at the top of my shapely thighs. Starting the shower I returned to the bedroom and gathered my bag of toiletries. I set it on the vanity in the bathroom and retrieved a fresh razor and some shaving cream. I set them on the edge of the tub and tested the water. Finding it to my satisfaction I stepped into the warm stream of shower water. The water cascaded over my body. I soaked my hair and tied it in a knot behind my head. Running my fingers through the hairy bush at my crotch I wondered if perhaps I shouldn't start with a scissors.

Spreading a handful of cream over the curly hair I wet the razor. I thought, should I leave a narrow strip of hair above my slit, or just shave myself clean. I decided on the narrow strip. After all I could always shave that too if I didn't like the looks of a jet black landing strip.

I adjusted the showerhead so it was directed straight down at the drain, and sat down on the edge of the tub at the far end to begin my transformation. Slowly working my way in from the sides the curly hair began to disappear. It felt rather erotic as my pubic bush shrank and became just the narrow strip of curly black hair above my slit. I decided the remaining strip of hair was still too thick so I grabbed my scissors and trimmed that down somewhat also. I finished showering and wrapped a big fluffy towel around my hair. Stepping out of the shower I dried myself and turned to the mirror to examine the results of my shave.

The thick bush of hair had been transformed into an erotic landing strip of wispy black hair that I thought looked rather sexy. It takes forever to dry my long hair, but I knew I had worked to hard and to long to grow it to this length, and no matter what I was going to keep it this length.

About the only thing I had to wear that even remotely approached being sexy was a pair of fairly tight jeans and a white tee. I decided to forgo wearing a bra and had to settle for a pair of sneakers to start with. As I viewed myself in the full length mirror once again I thought my nipples showed a little too much, but I was in New York City and figured I'd fit in fairly well. But something was missing, something to set off my dazzling green eyes and long jet black hair. It finally dawned on me that what was missing was a tease of color besides my eyes. I need a flashy lip color to set the whole appearance off. Searching through my purse I could only fine a pale shade of pink lip-gloss. It wasn't dark enough, but would have to do until I found something darker.

Slipping a pair of dark sunglasses into my hair to hold it back I was ready to head out and see what I could do about transforming my wardrobe. As the elevator door opened at the lobby a rather good looking older gentleman was standing directly in front of the door. As I came into his view he smiled widely and said, "Well good morning." His eyes lowering a bit to gaze at my petite tits and the nipples that showed through the material of my tee.

I said, "Good Morning to you." As I strolled past him, I was happy that he didn't call me madam, and thought maybe this transformation thing was going to have the desired effect. The doorman smiled widely at me as he performed his duty, his eyes also finding their way to my chest. I was quickly learning that if you got it you should show it since the first two male encounters of my day would have to be considered successful.

The doorman asked, "Cab Miss?"

My ears rung with the sound of his question. He called me Miss. I smiled widely at him and said, "As a matter of fact I would like a cab thank you."

He raised his arm and the next available cabbie pulled from the cab pool and glided to a stop directly in front of me. The kind, well spoken doorman opened the rear door and I slid in. Before he closed the door he said, "Hope to see you later Miss."

He scored even more points by referring to me as Miss a second time.

"Where to." The cabbie asked without even glancing in his rear view mirror.

I gave him the address of the clothing shop I had decided to start at and in an instant we were into the flow of early Saturday morning downtown traffic.

I probably could have walked the distance in about fifteen minutes because the cab ride only lasted about six. Gliding to a stop in front of the address I'd given him he said, "Here we are."

I handed him a ten and said keep the change, which only amounted to about a buck and a half. I'd walk the next time I wanted to come back here.

Stepping out of the cab I looked at the shop. Their web site made the place seem much larger. One side of the entry to the shop had a long display window while the other was a solid brick wall of the neighboring building. As I walked toward the door I looked at the items on display in the window. Several items on display looked like they came right from the wardrobe department of a "B" horror movie. But a couple of things did catch my eye. I opened the door and a small bell mounted above the door on the jam tinkled my arrival.

A young woman, perhaps about twenty years old came from behind the counter. She smiled and said, "Good Morning can I help you find something?"

I grinned at her and answered, "Yes, I need a wardrobe make over."

The sales girl knew she was in for a long morning, but seemed happy to have the company. She said, "Come over this way and let's get a look at you and see where we should start."

As I approached her she turned me toward a triple set of full length mirrors. "Let's see now what do we want to accentuate." She said.

"Long flowing black hair, green eyes, firm breasts, and I'd imagine with the right application of make-up the illusion of high cheek bones." She said, pointing out my good points.

I waited for the list of detractions, which I assumed, would be a lengthy list.

"Now, what do we need to loose?" She remarked.

She began pointing out, "Sneakers, yuck. The jeans fit to loose, the tee needs to be a bit more revealing I'd think. Some eye make-up and a darker shade of lip-gloss"

"That's it?" I asked.

"For starters yes, we'll go from there." She added.

"I'm Gen.," I offered since I would be spending some time with her.

"Nice to meet you Gen, I'm Sara." She responded.

"So, Sara where do we start?" I asked.

Sara smiled and said, "We start where most men finish Gen with your shoes."

As I slipped off my sneakers Sara said, "We've got to loose the white tub socks to Gen!"

"I know I was checking your web site last night and saw some stockings that I thought might be nice." I said.

Sara fixed me up with a very sexy pair of thigh high stockings with a lacy hem at the top. I slipped out of my jeans and tub socks and carefully slid the stockings up my legs. As I smoothed out the top of the hems Sara peeked around the curtain of the dressing room and said, "Oh my god Gen, the white cotton panties have got to fly also." She handed me a pair of black leather pumps with about a two inch heel and added, "Give me a minute I'll be right back.

Sara's hand reappeared around the curtain holding a little back satin thong. I'd never worn a thong but figured Sara knew what she was talking about. Slipping out of my panties I slid the thong up over my stockings and carefully into place. It would take some getting used to having the thin strap of the thong stuck between my ass cheeks, but the satin fabric felt very sensual next to my freshly shaven pubic mound. I pulled my jeans back on and then slipped my feet into the pumps. It's been a while, actually a long while since I wore shoes with heels and I felt a little wobbly as I walked out of the dressing room and toward the triple mirror to see how I looked.

To my amazement just the appearance difference in wearing these pumps was awesome. They made my legs look longer, and seemed to make my jeans fit better. I turned from side to side checking out this first step in my transformation.