The Feminization of Todd Stanwick Phonesex-Part 4

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext. 262

“I just love the way you do your makeup, Tara. And your lipstick!” said the girl at the delicatessen where Todd Stanwick had been dispatched yet again to get the office lunch orders. “What colour and brand is it?” He wasn’t sure whether that was mockery in her eyes or not. Did she recognize him from school and know that he was not a girl but a boy dressed as one? He couldn’t tell but he was desperate that she not discover his secret. He had often admired her from afar, riding on her bicycle, her blonde hair shining, whipping behind her in the wind, her high cheekbones magnets for the sun. He had had a crush on her in what seemed like a previous lifetime, before his mother had started this mad game which was forcing him to play. The Tara Stanwick game, where he was forced to feminize, forced to pretend he was a girl.

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Deeper, My Love, Deeper Phone Sex

MISTRESS JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 Ext. 262

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The Feminization of Todd Stanwick Phonesex

JASMINE 1-844-332-2639 ext 262

It began casually enough. Todd was sitting with his mother, yes, his beautiful mother….  Her features were patrician and perfect with just that touch of strangeness about the slant of her eyes that changes mere prettiness to beauty. Her hair was long and lush, her makeup exquisite. Even lounging on the divan, watching television with her son, she wore a designer dress that clung to her slim but luscious bodysoft, silky pantyhose and high heels. Beneath this, though Todd could not, of course see,  he knew from his furtive searches of her lingerie drawer, that she wore one of her many gorgeous matching bra and pantie sets. His mother always dressed to perfection, from the top of her head to the tips of her pedicured toes.

When the commercial for pantyhose came on the television, Todd didn’t realize the intensity of his gaze until he noticed his mother watching him with raised eyebrows and the vague disdain which was almost always part of her expression deepened into something very closely resembling contempt. “Son,” she said sternly, “why are you watching that commercial that way? It almost seems as though you want to wear pantyhose.”

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