Playing the Part – Chapter 2

 

Playing the Part – Chapter 2

Jake is now "Diana" full time in order to "stay in character." But Diana suddenly faces even more challenges than merely maintaining "her" poise under Ms. Cambrai's tutelage. Challenges which draw Jake ever further away from himself and ever deeper into playing the part of Diana. Challenges which he can only overcome by becoming Diana ever more completely. And becoming Diana more and more just seems so right and feels so very, very good...

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Day 290:

Wow.  I didn’t intend for this to turn out like I was writing some porn story.  But Ms. Cambrai said I should be detailed in writing down what I’ve experienced.  Detailed, specific, and heartfelt.  So, I shouldn’t be embarrassed or hesitant about it when my emotions come out like that.  She asked me if she could read my journal.  I don’t know how she even knew I was keeping one.  I must’ve mentioned it in passing some other time.  I was a bit hesitant but, Ms. Cambrai is right.  I started this journal as a way of keeping notes to help me with this role.  And as she is in my life now to also help me prepare for this part I am playing, then it only makes sense for her to also read my notes.  That way she can help me gain better insights into my character, Diana.  Besides, how could I keep any secrets from Ms. Cambrai?

I had to stop a couple of times when I wrote that last entry and let things “cool down” so I could get through it all.  I broke out one of my toys after I was done writing and did what I could to relieve the “tension” the memories had built-up.

Oh, toys?  Right.  Yes.  Yum!  Toys!  Ms. Cambrai introduced me to toys for some months now.  I was hesitant at first.  I mean, why use a toy when I’ve got my own built-right-in?  Well, she says I need to focus on things as a lady would and not as otherwise – she never mentions what I was before taking on this part – and that I have to stay in my role to get into my role properly.  So, aside from letting my little soldier out to clean and lotion it, she never plays with it.  Well, not like a woman would otherwise play with a man’s penis.  “I think it makes a lovely, lovely clit.  A rather big clit, but that’s how we’ll relate to it” she declared some months ago and that’s be that.  Her word, as usual, is final.  She’ll rub it like a clit while it’s tightly locked away in its chastity tube “gaff” but that’s all.

So it’s been toys for me.  Small ones at first.  I’ve become quite proficient now at keeping myself properly clean and fresh down there – as “a lady always should be clean and fresh” – and have learned to climax wonderfully from toying myself.  Toying myself is nice and all but it’s nothing like when Ms. Cambrai uses one of her toys on me.  That my face is usually “trapped” between her beautiful thighs and I’m using my tongue on her probably helps with my mindset!

What’s been truly mindblowing with her was when she introduced me to strap-on play.  Sometimes she also calls it “pegging” – as in “I’m going to bend you over and peg your until you she stars my sweet girl!”  I’ve come to love it whatever she calls it.  “It’s how ladies can please each other without needing a man around” she told me.  I only pouted a little bit when I reminded her that she did, in fact, ‘have a man around’ namely, me.  She just smiled, laughed sweetly, rocked that plastic dong shaft of hers deeper into me and cooed back at me: “Oh no my lovely, you’re my sweet, sweet girl.”  I couldn’t object because she knows exactly how to rub her cock over my “girly g-spot” so that it makes my toes curl, and because she then smothered me with kisses.  When Ms. Cambrai is “teaching me about being a woman,” then Ms. Cambrai is “always right.”

Day 310:

Jayden is not helping things.  No, not at all.  He’s only slightly less distracting than Ms. Cambrai.  I’m surprised to even be thinking such thoughts but, there it is.  He’s not helping at all.

Day 311:

Sorry, Jayden is my new dance partner.  Ms. Cambrai figured that there’d be no way I would be able to progress in my dance lessons if it always wound up with my “swooning” over being in her arms.  LOL!  She’s right.  I love swooning or anything else it takes to wrap myself up in her.  And that she lets me lick her flower after some of the lessons, I think she likes how I swoon too!

Anyway, she announced to me that my knowing how to dance with another woman was wonderful – “a truly elegant lady should know how to dance with any partner worthy of her company” – that’s Deportment Mantra number two bazzilion and three! J J - but I really needed to know how to dance with a man as a man just moves differently.  Also I just plain needed to learn how to dance with someone other than just her.  She was right.  She is always right.  And her smile when I agreed was just as melting as ever.

Of course, the guy she found to be my lead immediately worked my last nerves!  Tall, exotic, fierce but refined, dark haired, high cheekboned, and had an air of command about him that was intoxicating.  Like Ms. Cambrai but… different.  He had no problem sweeping me off my feet!  Literally.  He was a very skilled dancer and also skilled at helping me learn to dance with a man.  Ms. Cambrai was quite pleased how we hit it off.  I was overjoyed at that.

It only bothered me a little bit watching the two of them interact.  She would do some moves with him to show me how it looked and then I’d step into his arms to go through them.  That was very effective but I also noticed how the two of them moved and how they touched each other.  Nothing overt but I could see those touches lingering and that there was more history between the two of them than she’d told me about.  I honestly felt a little jealous!  No, not a “little” jealous – a LOT jealous! LLL

I think that might’ve been what inspired me to emulate how sensual she was with him when he was holding me in his arms the same way.  I was so pleased with myself that I was coming as close as I did with that.  It made me warm inside when he smiled and kissed my hand afterward.

I don’t know why it keeps making me so happy and “warm inside” when I find I’ve somehow pleased a man but, it does.  And I like that.  I really am getting into my role and playing my part!

Day 337:

This sucks!  It sucks!!!  Fuck!  This sucks!  Dammit!  This sucks!

Day 338:

Six months?  Are they out of their mind?  What the hell!  This sucks!  I’m so pissed right now.

Day 339:

Now it might be four months.  Or it might be ten months.  This sucks!  The vendor in China that was supposed to make the clothing line instead stole the patterns and started releasing them on their own.  Damn bastards!  Now it’s all a legal mess.  And switching production is going to take months to set up.  Months!  Dammit!  We were so close!

Day 342:

Great.  Just great.  I didn’t ask “how could it get any worse?”  I didn’t.  I’m not that dumb – blond as I may be now.  I wouldn’t give voice to that sort of question because the Universe always takes it as a challenge.  Great.

The adhesive has now not only failed on both of my breast forms but it’s eaten away at them too much.  They don’t fit and they look awful.  My chest doesn’t look too good either.  And I feel sick.

Day 350:

Ugly.  Ugly!  I’m an ugly mess.  My chest looks awful!  My skin is ugly!

Day 353:

What a rotten day.  The news has been all bad today.  Shit, I hate this.  I’ve been crying my eyes out.  I get up and feel depressed that I’ve no breasts any more.  This is much worse than the last time.  Then, it was only a matter of waiting for the new breast forms to get shipped.  Well, I’ll be waiting a long time now.  Forever long.  The last ones really screwed things up.  No, to be more precise, the adhesive used to hold them to me was what screwed things up.  More toxic crap from China.  Go figure.

The stuff ate away at my breast forms badly enough but what it did to the skin on my chest is horrible!  I’m ugly now.  I hate it.

Day 354:

Okay, Dr. Williams has been really helpful.  So has Natalie.  So has Paul.  So has Mr. Simms.  I’m not ugly.  I’m not.  I still don’t have any breasts.  And it doesn’t look like I will any time soon.  I hate this.

Day 356:

I cried almost all day yesterday.  At least Paul was there.  He held me tight as I let it all out.  He felt so strong and comforting like that.  He didn’t use my boy name once, thankfully. This has really been hard for me.  I would much rather it was Natalie holding me and speaking to me in that soothing and caring voice of hers.  But I don’t want her to see me like this.  I may not be ugly but I’m not pretty any more. I hate this.

Day 360:

Mr. Simms was there.  And Paul was there to.  The specialist that Dr. Williams referred me to did some tests and prodded me some as well.  It was odd, really.  Being surrounded by those three men I felt… safe.  They were all so swell to me.  So helpful and reassuring.  Both Paul and Mr. Simms held my hands while the skin specialist, Doctor Koyashi, told me the results.  I cried.  I tried not to but, I cried.

“Mr. Douglas,” he began – it was so odd hearing anyone refer to me in the male sense for the first time in almost a year now, “your skin there, on your chest, has been deeply affected by the toxins that were in that adhesive you used to hold those breast forms in place.  Fortunately, it does not seem to have been cancerous of have left any scarring.  Not as of yet, that is.  But there is simply no healthy way for you to continue using any sort of adhesive on your skin there.  I’m sorry.” He concluded as considerately as he could.

I wept.  Mr. Simms pulled me to him and I sobbed into his arm.  Paul tried stroking my hair to comfort me.  We all realized what that news meant.  Without those breast forms there was no way I could do the photo shoots.  No way.  Padded bras wouldn’t work for how revealing so many of those outfits were.  And they wouldn’t move like the breast forms did.  It would be too obvious.  Too fake.

And the whole advertising campaign had been wrapped around Paul and I.  All the first run of the outfits had been patterned on my figure and my figure had been patterned on those outfits.  Without me, this would mean even more months lost trying to find a replacement and then change all the patterns and come up with all the new outfits and… it’d be a disaster.

It’d be a disaster for them.  It’d be a disaster for Paul.  It’d be a disaster for Mr. Simms.  And it’d be a disaster for me.  I’d thrown myself into this role.  I’d been living as Diana for almost full year now.  Who would I still be without being her?  Would Ms. Cambrai still want me?  I sobbed.  I sobbed a lot.

Mr. Simms was the one who brought me out of it though.  He handed me more tissues to pretty myself a bit and then raised my face to him with his finger under my chin.  He smiled at me in such a sympathetic and supportive way.  I would do anything to please this man.  I would!

“Kitten,” he began, “there are some… alternatives, honey.  Yes.. yes… why don’t you let Dr. Koyashi explain?  Alright?  Good girl!” he hugged me at that and I did feel better.  I turned to the doctor and tried sitting up straight again.  It did feel really good to have Mr. Simms with his arm around me though.

“Uh… well… Mr. Douglas..” he began.  But, I perked up.  I had to show Mr. Simms and Paul that I would do what it took for the show to go on!

“Please, Dr., It’s Diana.” I said as calmly as I could.  I felt both Mr. Simms and Paul squeeze my hands at that so I knew it was the right move.

“Uh, Diana..  Well, yes.  There is an alternative.  Prosthesis.” He said, in his professional manner.

“Prosthesis?” I echoed.  My mind was reeling.  ‘Prosthesis’ could mean only one thing: implants.  I felt both Paul and Mr. Simms place their hands on my shoulders as well as keeping their other hands squeezing mine.  Almost as if they were keeping me from fainting and falling over.  They’re such good men.  They’re so strong and considerate.  I’m so lucky to have such men in my life.  I always need to do my best to please them.

“Implants?” I finally managed to ask. “Seriously?  How?  But, my skin?  Implants?  But…  I mean?”  I was dazed.

“Mr. Ste… uh, Diana.  Diana.  Good.  Uh.. your skin on your chest is currently still dealing with the effects of that adhesive.  We can let your body process the toxins out on its own but that will take a considerable amount of time and they’ll continue to be damaging to your cells while they remain there in your skin.”

“The best treatment for this involves applying generalized suction over the affected areas.  That suction, applied over a course of ten to twenty days, will force the toxins to migrate from within the cells of your skin there on your chest to a point where your body can much more rapidly and effectively remove them.”

“What?  Cells? Suction?  Migrate? Three weeks?  What?” I stammered, still dazed.

“Just a minute there, please… Diana, hear me out.” He interrupted me before I could rush any further.

“This detoxification process and the suction involved has a rather significant effect on the patients receiving it.” I frowned at that, not following him fully.

“The weeks of suction are combined with gels rubbed into the skin to keep the skin tissue pliable and preventing the suction from tearing the skin.  Tearing would lead to scaring.  And that is contraindicated.”  He paused, waited for me to catch up.

“What this means, Diana, is that in order to remove the toxins in your chest skin we would apply suction to the whole area.  In applying it over those several weeks it would result in your skin being stretched out.  Significantly stretched out.”

My eyes were as wide as saucers at that.  The grip that Mr. Simms and Paul had on my shoulders was truly needed right then.

“The normal process at that point is to allow the patient’s own metabolism to slowly reform and pull back the skin to its normal position, relatively.  Increased muscle development can help with that but it would otherwise still remain significantly looser than previously.”

Images of me with my chest skin hanging down and flopping around suddenly flooded my mind.  I’d look like some of those morbidly obese people wind up after they go through a stomach band or whatever is the radical surgery to peel away hundreds of pounds in one operation.  They were no longer fat but had all this massive amounts of excess skin just hanging off their bodies.  What Dr. Koyashi was telling me was that I would be hideous!  I’d be toxin free, yes, but hideous. 

It’d take me months of hitting the weights before my pecs could build back up to even come close to filling it in and there’d be no way I could continue as Diana with all that skin hanging out from my chest and especially if I’d somehow managed to pull it back tight with a big set muscular pecs.  I began tearing up at this but Dr. Koyashi plowed ahead to not give me the chance to start weeping again.

“Diana, your skin would be so stretched at that point where prosthesis application could be done immediately. And your recovery time even with the prosthesis wouldn’t be any significant degree longer than what the detoxification process would take on its own.  In fact, past a certain point, the presence of the implants behind the skin combined with the suction would actually enhance the toxin removal process.” He concluded, brightly.

I sat there.  Trying to process it all.  The men, bless them, gave my confused pretty little self, the time to think it through a bit.  I felt so small at moments like this.  So small and in need of such strong and capable men around me.  I began thinking things through out loud.

“So, you’re saying that I have to go through this suction thingie?  Right?  That, if I’m to get the toxins from the glue out of me so I don’t wind up scarred or sick or cancerous or… or anything, right?  And if I do the suction thingie then my skin will be all stretched out?  But healthy skin, right?  Stretched out enough that I could get implants?  Implants just like the size of the breasts I was wearing anyway?  That would mean that none of my outfits would have to change.  They’d all still fit.  And none of the patterns would have to change.  And I’d look the same as in the photos we’ve already done.  And none of those ad campaign materials would have to change.  And we could still go ahead with the production.  And Paul, you and I could still do the ads.  And Mr. Simms, there’d be no effect on the production.  We’re paused now anyway, right.  And you said this’d, only take a couple of weeks, right Dr.?  And I have to have it done anyway.  And this’d be the most healthy thing I could do anyway. And it’d work just fine.  And I’d have my breasts back and I…”

Mr. Simms hugged me again and put finger to my lips to shush me.  I can be so silly sometimes when I let my mouth run away like that.

“Angel,” he said “easy there girl.  Easy.  Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

I sighed into him as he once again had his arm around me.

“Yes,” Mr. Simms continued, “you could do implants and that could work out perfectly for everyone.  It would indeed allow us to continue with the ad campaign and thus keep everyone employed.  That means you to, Angel.  But also Paul here.  And it’d keep me employed too!  Don’t forget that honey, I’m the guy signing your paychecks so it’s good to keep me employed too, right?”  His eyes twinkled at that and I giggled.  He hugged me again.

Paul reached over and cupped my chin with his hand to turn my face toward him. 

“I like being employed too, you know.” He warmly chided me.  I unwrapped myself from Mr. Simms to hug Paul tightly in response.  And I sniffled a bit too.  Pulling myself away, I sat up straight again and face Dr. Koyashi.

“Now, Diana, I’ve discussed this with Mr. Simms already here.  I know you’ve been focused on this role and have used those breast forms to play the part of… Diana.  Implants are not permanent things.  These sort of prosthesis devices can be simply and readily removed whenever you choose.  So, at the end of this… production.. you’re involved with, and when you’re ready to move on to a different role, then we can simply remove the implants from you. You’ll have to deal with some skin sag.  But your skin will much healthier by that point.  For one thing, there won’t be any toxins left in and, for another, your skin will no longer be covered up by all that adhesive and the breast forms atop of it.  The ability of your skin to breathe as normal will help make it healthier still.”

“Now, as to the cost of this work,” he continued and that brought a pang of dread back into me.  This couldn’t be inexpensive!

“Mr. Simms has discussed with me the extent of the health coverage your contract provides.  ‘Breast augmentation’ isn’t part of that coverage,” he continued and I clenched my hands around Mr. Simms and Paul’s hands, “but coverage for conditions resulting from ‘workplace injuries’ is Included.  Included quite well, actually.  And the damage done by the toxins you had to use as part of your performing your role definitely count as a ‘workplace injury!’” he concluded, smilingly.

I exhaled.  I’d not realized I’d even been holding my breath but, I was.  Mr. Simms and Paul must’ve appreciated it too as my grip on their hands stopped being so tight!

I took a deep breath – missing the weight I usually felt on my chest when I did so but happy now it would soon be back again – and sat up even straighter.  Proudly, I declared:

“Okay, I’ll do it!  When do we start!”

Day 365:

A full year, wow!  What a rollercoaster!

Mr. Simms took me out to celebrate almost a full one year mark of my being “Diana” – or least since I’d signed the contract back then.  Diana didn’t happen overnight.  She took some time for her to emerge so it wasn’t really a full year, but close enough!  Jimmy, bless him, worked up some padded inserts for one of my bras that almost exactly duplicated what the breast forms yielded.  I had to wear a full coverage dress because there was no way the padded bra would not be seen otherwise and it took some getting used to having almost no weight projecting from my chest. 

But it was nice to at least look like my old self.  Even if in such a limited way.

I felt absolutely radiant to be on the arm of Mr. Simms.  I was glamorous and showing off one of the more elegant dresses they’d worked up thus far.  This silvery sequined vision.  Very head turning.  From the way Mr. Simms was beaming at me, I knew I’d chosen right for the evening and had made him happy.  I liked doing that.  I didn’t even need any of those “Deportment Mantras” to tell me that!

I can’t even remember the name of the place we dined at.  It was somewhere on Melrose.  Mr. Simms just took my hand to help me into the limo and away we went. I was only too happy to sit next to Mr. Simms and didn’t even dare trying shifting away when going around a curve slid us into each other.  To “help keep me steady” he wrapped his arm around me in the back seat of the limo.  He then held my hand as I stepped out of the limo like some starlet.  Which, actually, I was!  I felt so glamorous and beautiful at it all.

It was a gorgeous evening.  And he capped it off by dropping me off back at Paul’s place.  A nice hug, and a gentlemanly kiss on the cheek was so perfect.  I absolutely floated into Paul’s apartment.  I knew I was a vision in elegance as I stepped inside.  I think Paul was jealous of how much attention Mr. Simms was paying me and not him.  Well, too bad!  Perhaps if he was as pretty as I had made myself he’d get more of that man’s time and more of that man’s eyes upon him!  So there!  LOL!

Reluctantly, I shimmied out of that sheath dress and carefully hung it up nicely.  I made myself a cup of Celine’s tea then got the makeup sufficiently removed that I wouldn’t be sleeping on it covering my pillow.  I moisturized, plugged in my little headphones, and set one of Ms. Cambrai’s meditation audio files to playing as I soon floated away to sleep.  I even left the waist trainer cinched on it’s been really helpful nipping my middle and helping give me the curves I need.  I don’t usually remember the dreams I have but I know that night they were particularly vivid.  I dreamt I was living the life of a Beverly Hills trophy wife and that Mr. Simms was my husband but I was seeing Paul on the side.  But that Mr. Simms was fine with that so long as he got to watch and then Ms. Cambrai punish me for being such a naughty, naughty girl.  I woke up with a nicely sticky mess in my panties.  It was a weird dream but a wonderful night.

Day 367:

Of course, it couldn’t have been as simple as starting right there and then that day Dr. Koyashi examined me.  No such luck.  The suction stuff started the very next day, thankfully.  I was eager to get that going.  Thanks to all the imagery Mr. Simms had done with me over the year the specialists that Dr. Koyashi got involved were able to work up the exact size implants to duplicate what my breasts had been for the past year.  It wasn’t as simple as just making molds of the silicon breast forms I’d been wearing.  The implants were going inside me and would thus have skin atop them to push out.  I didn’t understand all of it, just that it wasn’t as simple as using my old ones as models for the implants.  All that was going well enough and with no complications.  Then Mr. Simms “happened to stop by” while I was sitting there in the clinic with the chest suction thingies going.

I’m experienced enough with being a stage actor to not expect any real privacy when there’s a show on.  But, even though I was under contract and the whole production was going for a year now, I wasn’t on stage at that moment.  Thankfully.  So, Mr. Simms just popping into my room there at the clinic unannounced took me back a bit.  But, he is my boss and it must’ve been important to him to come see me there and then.  And that meant it had to be important to me to.  And doing my best to please him was what my role was in all of this.

He sat himself down on the bed next to me and I propped myself up to see what he brought up on the laptop he’d brought with him.  Sitting up meant I had to hold the big suction cup cone thingies up as well.  It was a bit awkward as I was wearing my day corset to keep up with that waist training and I had to use my hands to push myself up and Mr. Simms held on to those breast suction cup thingies as I did so.  Then I had to hold them with both my hands and he sat next to me in the bed.  It wasn’t the most comfortable way to sit so I wound up leaning into him to ease the pressure.  It felt nice to have such a capable and powerful man to lean on.  He didn’t seem to mind at all.  Mr. Simms is such a wonderful man.

He brought up a series of images of me in the various outfits I’d been wearing for him over the past year.  Then he had the images zoomed in on my face.  Okay, not much new there.  It was my face, after all.  Lord knows I’ve seen it enough!  Especially since I’ve been doing my own makeup and having to peer closely at myself in the mirror every day as I put the full slap on my face.

He then brought up a different series of images.  They were the same pictures but… different.  Then he paired them side by side.  The ones I was used to seeing turned out to be the “final” version that came out once his “post-production” crew had done their stuff with them.

The “new” images were what I looked like before they had been edited or retouched.  The difference was subtle but clear.  Clear to me, at least.  And apparently clear to Mr. Simms as well.  He brought up some other images and some side by side comparisons and ones with the differences highlighted and stuff.  It was a pretty slick presentation.  But then, when Mr. Simms wants something, he goes all out to get it.  And part of that is that he’s a perfectionist.  I’ve come to like that about him and tried to be as perfect as I could for him.

From the images, I realized I’d let him down.  I wasn’t as perfect as I could be.  He had his arm around me, hugging me to him, reassuring me that it was going to be alright.  And that he had a proposition for me.

Turns out that the changes the “post” guys made though subtle, were numerous enough to add a notable cost in post-production retouching and “optimizing.”  Some of that is inevitable in any sort of modern commercial photography work.  But such work did represent a cost and we were already hugely over budget as it was with all the delays and everything.  So, the moneymen at Donovan’s had asked him to try and find ways of reducing what costs he could.

I followed all that.  Nodding when appropriate.  But I was letting him get into a pitch that I knew was coming.  That he’s really good at making those pitches doesn’t make it any less obvious when he’s about to make them.

“Angel, I’ll be blunt.  While you’re under getting your implants we could also do some ‘touch ups’ here and there at the same time.  Little things.  They’d reduce, if not eliminate entirely, the need for so much work to be done in Post.  And that, over all the shoots were going to be taking, would mean quite a bit of savings!  Savings even beyond what extra surgical work would cost!” he said warmly and earnestly, giving me a nice squeeze to wrap it up.

“Uh… facial surgery?” I asked with no small amount of surprise.  I mean, sure, I was about to undergo surgery to get breast implants.  But that was all due to some really unique circumstances and I’d be having those implants removed just as soon as the whole fashion campaign had run its course.  Well, that’s what I’d been telling myself over the past week since Dr. Koyashi had laid it all out.  The roller coaster ride had just started back up again.  Mr. Simms sensed this – he knows me so well and is such a kind and powerful man – that he immediately allayed my fears.

“Diana, yes, it’s facial work and a bit more.  But it’s all really minor stuff.  And it would really help me out here.  I know though, that it’s a lot to think about right now.  But let me show you how minor it actually will be.  Here, look at these images I had the Graphics Department guys work up.”

I bit my lip and scrunched up my face a bit at all that.  Mr. Simms has told me I’m really cute when I do that.  This time he just gave me another big hug when I then nodded okay to him.

He then brought up this 3D scan sort of thingie of my face.  He was able to turn it to and fro and up and down and around on the screen.  And he could have lighting effects displayed on it to show how the shadows would play on my face and how it looked in different overall lighting.  I’d some idea of this from the photography I’d already went through.  So I know how revealing lighting differences could be when it came to picking out facial details.

Then he brought up a series of the same sort of 3D images with each of the change made.  And flipped back and forth between them.  The alterations were minor enough.  A bit of nose thinning.    There was some brow reduction.  Some eye work to “open” them up a bit more.  A little bit around my cheeks.  Some small hairline work.  Each individual change wasn’t all that much on its own.  Even taken all together it wasn’t too drastic.

Then he brought up the final series of images.  These were as high def as the computer guys could get and they showed my face as it was now, my face after the surgeries, and how I’d look with all the right makeup on.  Flipping back and forth between them all really highlighted the differences this’d make.  It also showed me what my face would look like without makeup once this was all done.

Mr. Simms even had one version of that that showed my face sporting stubble once more!  A one-time laser hair removal session isn’t forever, it does need to be rezapped at least a couple of times before the follicles are truly gone.  So, I knew I’d either have to get lasered again – and soon, most likely – or have to slather on the foundation and beard hider even heavier.  Still it took me by surprise to see a masculine version of me up on screen.  I was entranced.  I was looking at some entirely other person.

Mr. Simms showed me how to work the buttons on the laptop so that I could flip back and forth between the images myself. He had to hold the suction cup thingies for me to use the keys and for that he had to sort of slide around behind me in the bed and wrap his arms around me to hold the suction thingies.  His arms around me like that felt sooo…. good.  And the way his breath felt on my neck felt so warm and sensual too.  His voice purring in my ear didn’t help me focus on the different buttons at all.  I guess it’s been a while since I was this physically close to anyone – what with the last person being Ms. Cambrai.  So my reacting like I did with Mr. Simms holding me that way just triggered the memories of how Ms. Cambrai was with me.  Nothing more than that – though I was glad I had the laptop propped up on a pillow between my legs.  Wouldn’t want Mr. Simms to get the wrong idea!  We did, eventually, get it all straightened out.

The changes would still leave me looking like a guy – provided I not put on any makeup, that is.  But I’d look a bit more androgynous of a guy.  “Prettier,” even.  But still, unmistakably, a guy.  Well, mostly.

Once he’d shown me how to flip through the images myself he brought up a last series of pictures.  Mr. Simms really knew how make his pitches.  This last series were of the set I’d done in this to-die-for evening gown.  It was an absolutely glam and retro and gorgeous and elegant and scrumptious thing.  I didn’t want to have to take it off and hand it back to the wardrobe folks.  It was a great set of photos.  Paul look dashing as ever in them as he held me in some truly romantic poses.  He really looks every bit the part of a leading man.  And in that dress I looked every bit the part of his leading lady.  Sigh…

But what Mr. Simms had done was digitally alter my face with his proposed “touch ups” and also replaced Paul with blended in images of Clark Gable in the same poses holding me.  Images of Cary Grant holding me.  Images of Burt Reynolds holding me.  Images of Idris Elba holding me…. Be still my heart!  Such handsome men!  And Diana was the leading lady to all of them!

Mr. Simms just squeezed me in his arms a bit more and purred into my ear.

“Just think about it, Precious.  Think about it.  I don’t need an answer right now.  Soon, yes.  But think about it.  Promise me that, Diana?  Be my leading lady and think about it?  This’d mean a lot to me.  And a lot to Paul.”

I kept flipping back and forth between the images of me with all those leading men.   Diana looked so glamorous in them.  I looked so glamorous in them.  Diana was so glamorous.  I was so glamorous.  I could be even more glamorous.  And it would make Mr. Simms so happy.

He extricated himself from around me and slid himself off the bed.

“I’ll leave the laptop with you so that you can look things over some more, okay?” he smiled at me.  Then he turned the laptop around and fiddled with the keys a bit more.  Turning back to me, I was still a bit dazed from it all, he cupped my chin with his fingers and brought my eyes up to his.  I thought for all the world he was going to kiss me right there and then!  Give me a big wonderful kiss on the lips.  I hope my face didn’t show that too much.  I would’ve kissed him though.  Happily kissed.  I love making Mr. Simms happy.

“Promise me, Diana, that you’ll think about it?  Okay, girl?” he asked, smiling again.  And then he leaned in and did kiss me.  On my forehead.  I’d closed my eyes in anticipation his planting one on my lips but it was just my forehead.  I sighed.  And then he made his way out of the room.  It took me a couple minutes to compose myself after that.  I was glad the pillow was still in my lap.  Then I had to juggle the suction cup thingies with one hand while I grabbed at the laptop to turn it around to me.  He’d changed the image being displayed just before he’d left.  When I saw what it was it took my breath away.

Instead of any leading man holding me in his arms, he’d composited in an image on Ms. Cambrai holding me.  It was of her in that Tango outfit.  Ms. Cambrai.  Holding me.  Natalie holding me.  I’d be her leading lady.  My heart was fluttering at the image.  I ached at the sight.  Oh, please, yes!

Just a few changes, just a couple of snips here and there and…. Ohhhh.  I gazed at that image for a while.  Later, the nurse had to rap loudly on the door to get my attention that the pumping session was over.  I snapped the laptop shut pulled myself back to reality.  Reluctantly.

dDay 3480;;:

Everythhhing hrta  evthnng. .

Day 382:

Everything still hurts.  A lot.  The swelling has gone down at least now to the point that I can see more clearly and that I can move my arms to reach the keyboard on the laptop.  This sucks.  It’s taken me half an hour to write this much.  I’m so tired.  It hurts so much.

Day 385:

Natalie is so kind to me.  She told Mr. Simms she’d take care of me after the surgeries and I’d been discharged.  Take care of me until I was able to get around on my own.  Everything hurts.  I’m still wrapped up like a mummy.  And I’m all swollen and bruised and everything hurts.

Day 387:

Everything still hurts but not as bad.  Or maybe I’m just getting used to the pain.  Ms. Cambrai jokingly told me that I’m a pain slut.  I laughed at that but not for long.  Laughing makes my breasts heave and that hurts.  “See,” she exclaimed, “you ARE a pain slut!”  I laughed again.  And it hurt again.  She can be such a sadist!  But her smile is so wonderful.  Even when she’s making me hurt.

Day 390:

I really didn’t want to leave her place.  Just being around her is so dreamy.  The surgeons said I needed to stay hydrated after the procedures so Ms. Cambrai kept me guzzling her herbal iced teas that she got from Celine.  Those protein shake things of Celine’s were perfect because I could drink them through a straw and not have to move my jaw or mouth much doing so – the skin on my face is that tight now.  And the coolness of the shakes felt good in my throat.  I don’t remember Mr. Simms mentioning anything about shaving my trachea.  And I was super surprised to find that they did when I was under.  In addition to all the other procedures they did.  But, when I finally was able to fire up the laptop after I was lucid enough to do so, the trachea work was right there in the images.  I’m such a silly girl, I must’ve been too entranced by all the other things to have noticed. 

I’m still very swollen.  And very stiff.  And I really can’t move my head around too much or too fast.  My skin is still really tight.  Once the swelling goes down then I’ll be able to move more freely.  The pressure on my chest is something else!  My skin feels so taut.  The surgeon who did my breasts said that the tightness would soon ease as my skin expanded and healed.  The swelling going down among that tissue and that would allow the implants to come to their desired position.  I hope so.  They look super weird right now.  Not at all like my photos of the old ones.  He told me not to worry that this sort of swelling is to be expected and that as my body heals it will come out just fine.

I hope so.  Otherwise I am super bored.  Ms. Cambrai isn’t around all day.  She can’t be.  So, I’m here by myself while she’s out doing her Ms. Cambrai stuff.  I pass the time making sure to take the pain med pills the clinic gave and just dozing off while listening to the Meditation audio files Ms. Cambrai made for me.  It helps me pass the time.  Paul got a second set of the meditation goggles he uses.  They’re a lot like the ones that Louann had for me.  Hers were just too heavy on my recently worked on face and we didn’t want to risk them pushing around the incisions or anything.  Mr. Simms had him start using his set of goggles back when that actress quit.  She was the one they first had for the part I’m now playing.  Her quitting really super stressed out everyone involved – Paul included.  So, Mr. Simms asked him to try using this type of blinky swirly lights thingie goggles as a means of meditating and easing the stress. 

Back at the time I figured it was just one more new agey thing Paul was trying to keep sane as his big break was coming apart around him.  So, I didn’t at all argue about with him then.  That he got a second set for me to use now, when I’m dealing with my own stress out things, is just super nice of him.

Ms. Cambrai usually lets me keep dozing even once she’s gotten home from her errands.  Especially if I’m nicely trancing myself out with those goggles and her audio files.  She knows that getting my rest means I heal up faster and we both want that.

At night though, she has me snuggle up to her.  It’s both heavenly to do that and tortuous.  Which, she likes and intends, no doubt!  I absolutely crave her touch and it feels so super nice to fall asleep in her arms.  Especially after she helps me out with another of those pain pills and some of that “sleepy time” herbal tea mix.  I drift away to the sound of her sweet, sweet voice.  I don’t remember what she’s saying to me as I float along but it always feels wonderful.

The tortuous part is that I’m next to this woman I crave but I’m too weak to do anything about it!  Too weak and too sore and still healing too much.  But I’m not too weak or too tired not to be extremely aroused by her touch, by her scent, by her voice, and by her embrace.  Such divine torture!

Day 400:

I was apparently quite the character going into surgery.  I don’t remember much about it.  The sedatives and the prep meds they had me on made me really, really loopy.  I’m confident enough in myself to recognize that it was the meds I was on and not my being so improper.  “An elegant lady never is an improper lady!”

But, apparently, with Ms. Cambrai there, and with Paul there and with Mr. Simms there I made quite the spectacle of myself before I went fully under.  I’m still blushing at it even now.  Ms. Cambrai had apparently just gotten done telling me “I’ll see you when you wake up again, my special pretty girl” and kissed me deeply. Drawing away, Mr. Simms held my hand and told me “it’s all going to be great!  You’re going to do so well Diana!”  And then, in my loopiness I said: “What, no kiss for your leading lady?”  To which he laughed and said “Well, if you insist!” and leaned down to kiss me right on my lips!  Paul was too much of a star to be left out so he chided me: “And no kiss for your leading man?”  I only vaguely remember telling him “Well get down here and plant one on me ya’ big stud!”  Which, in fine comic form, he did.  I drifted off then knowing I had such great and supportive friends.  As embarrassing as it might be, I was super happy to have them in my life and would do anything to make them happy!

Day 410:

The swelling is almost all the way down.  Thank god.  The pain is almost all gone too.  I’ve cut the dose of the pain pills way down by cutting them in half, literally.  And then taking only half as many each day.  Or maybe I am a pain slut after all.  Well, not a “slut” as an elegant lady like me could never be such a thing, right?  Could I be an elegant slut?  Hmmm….

Day 415:

I did it!  I did it!  I did it!  Yay me!  I did it!  Ms. Cambrai was so happy!  I was able to fit into my Tango dress!  Yes, it’s about the loosest I have and even then, it’s still snug in places where the swelling hasn’t entirely gone away.  But I fit into it!  More to the point, my breasts fit into it!

And speaking of my breasts, now that the swelling is almost gone and the bruising has faded away, Ms. Cambrai is able to touch them without it hurting.  I’m also not wanting to hide them until they were pretty enough.  Yes, a girl can have her vanities and I may not be an actual girl but I am a gurl now!  Louann was the one who pointed out that difference between “girl” and “gurl.”

Anyway, Ms. Cambrai can’t stop paying attention to my breasts.  And I am hardly complaining.  With the breast forms there it was like this great big dead zone on my chest with no sensations there.  Those breast forms were just big chunks of silicon, after all.  Now?  Oh my!  My nipples are enough to make me cream all on their own.  I don’t know how the docs did it but they managed to make my own little boy nipples as big and perky as the ones in the breast forms.  Which means they’re absolutely huge looking.  Well, huge compared to what I previously had.  And boy howdy are the things sensitive.  Wonderfully sensitive.  Orgasmically sensitive.  She’s now happy to spend almost as much time playing with my breasts as I am with hers.  Her taking me with her strap-on is even more heavenly now that she can also fondle my breasts while doing so.  And when she’s grinding that strap-on over my “girly g-spot” while also working my nipples?  My climaxes are near blinding!  And all with my little soldier safely locked away so it doesn’t get in the way between us.

Day 425:

Even I have to look really super hard to still see the swelling.  And even harder to see where the incisions are.  The surgeons Mr. Simms found were artists about that.  And I super thankful for it.  Nothing screams “she got work done on her” louder than big obvious incision scars from it.  I think that maybe why my upper chest and arms were so sore afterward.  They went in through the sides as opposed to under my breasts.

Day 427:

I’m also back to dance lessons with Ms. Cambrai again.  She’s told me I need to work on my flexibility again.  This will be good for me in general but also help stretch and loosen my skin after all the work.  And that will help the cast of my face get back to its natural pretty self.  That, and help my breasts sway more naturally.  I really love how they move.  The breast forms were really super good ones and they moved almost like these real ones.  But what a difference actual breasts make!  I really never knew how much I needed to wear bras.  Well, now I do!  But that just means more pretty undies for this gurl!  Ms. Cambrai isn’t complaining.

Yesterday, Ms. Cambrai had me doing this high energy dance move routine – kind of like Jennifer Beales did in “Flashdance” but wearing a skirt and halter top - not the dance unitard Jennifer had on in that number.  Ms. Cambrai however, was wearing pants and a blouse again.  When she does that it makes my little soldier throb as she is almost always up to something when she’s the one “who wears the pants” around me.  Don’t get me wrong, she’s dreamy in skirts.  And I’ve surprised her with my “completely unladylike wanton behavior” when she’s in a skirt and I push her up against the wall, hike up that skirt, slip to my knees, pull away her panties, and dive upon her gorgeous flower as if my life depended upon it. 

I keep her pinned against the wall until I’ve “extracted” at least three or four climaxes from her that way.  My panties are soggy as well but I don’t mind not having climaxed from my ravishing her that way.  It’s such a turn on for me to please her so.  The way her powerful thighs press against my face is wonderful.  I can tell when she’s about to reach her fist peak when she wraps one of her legs around my torso to “pin” me in place.  As if I’d ever leave that joyous spot!  Later, once she’d kissed away her juices from my lips and face, she’d remind me that “an elegant lady knows when and how to be a wanton sex kitten.  And when not to be one.”  Then she’d send me away with a swat on my cute little bubble buns to go and try and repair my makeup.

This particular day though, I thought I spied the outline of a strap-on under her slacks.  So I paid special heed to being particularly wanton and sensual in my dancing for her.  Beals’ character, Alex Owens, was a stripper after all.  God, if I could have Jennifer’s figure!  Yum!  Anyway, after about half an hour of my doing my best to “get a rise out of“ Ms. Cambrai, she turned off the music and told me to come over to her and see how good my skills were at giving lap dances.  I was in her lap in a flash!  She had to give me some pointers and it did turn into something of a quick lesson about all that.  And I could tell from her breathing that I was an apt student!

So much so that she took a fistful of my hair to hold me in place.  That’s a wonderful thing about having long hair – it makes for a wonderful leash!  She pulled me to her and mashed my lips upon hers.  Her tongue jammed into my mouth and completely dominated me with her forceful penetration.  It was heavenly.  I moaned in lust.  She pulled my head back with my hair, arching my back and bringing my breasts up toward her even more.  She pulled my halter top aside and then pulled out my breasts from behind the sports bra.  The pulling was crude and hugely arousing because of it.  She then began slapping and mauling my wonderful breasts.  God damn did that turn me on!  She knows how to play me so well.

“You slut!  You wanton slut!  You harlot!  You vixen!  Tempt me like this, will you?  Well, you’ll pay for this!” she growled at me.  Oh yes, please!  Make me pay!

With that she pulled me off of her lap and pressed me down to my knees.  She briefly let go of my hair to quickly grab my wrists together and deftly roped them together.  I hadn’t seen where she’d pulled the rope from but didn’t care at that moment. Bound and “helpless” before her she took hold of my face with one hand while the other she used to open her pants and bring out her “cock.”

She squeezed my cheeks together as her eyes bore into me.

“That’s it, slut.  Pucker those lips up for me!  Pucker them up.  Show me those cocksucker lips!” she hissed in lust.  “Good gurl. Now, make your ‘daddy’ happy and put those lips to use sucking my cock!” she growled.

I’d never done such a thing.  Oh, she had me lick some of the toys to get them wet before she had me pop them up into my “little rosebud.”  And from time to time she did “force” me to kiss her strap-on before burying it up my cute little behind.  But actually suck her “cock.”  I’d never done that.  But she didn’t give me any time to contemplate or complain.  Instead, with one hand using its fistful of my hair and the other hand holding her strap-on “cock” steady, she brought my mouth down upon it.  And as soon as I’d parted my lips she began forcing me down on her phallus.

It was an entirely bad angle for me.  And I had to work getting my spit up to lubricate the shaft enough so it could actually slide in my mouth and not grab at the skin getting stuck.  And it tasted like the silicon plastic thing it was.  And it was jamming into my mouth and into my cheeks and her grip on my hair was so harsh and it was… it was… it was hot!  It was obscene and obscenely hot. I was gagging on the plastic thing ramming into my mouth.  I didn’t dare try to wrap my lips around it for fear her ramming would tear them.  She didn’t slow down at all with powering my face down upon her “cock.”  When she finally succeeded in jamming it through my mouth and into my throat so far that my nose finally mashed into her crotch, she held me there as I choked and gagged on it.  I could smell her arousal.  It was all such a rush and a turn on!  She’d never used me this way before!  I was loving it.  She held me there as I felt her grip tighten on my hair and her other hand snake around to find one of my nipples and twist it fiercely.  From the way she bucked her hips and then arched up into my mouth even more firmly, I could tell she’d just climaxed!  My head was spinning and my eyes watering.   This was so debasing!  And damn if it was all the more hot because of it!

She harshly pulled me off of her “cock” and took hold of my face once again.  Her other hand still laced into my hair.  She drew me close to her face and squeeze my mouth open. 

“You slut!  You tease!  You’re worthless as a cock sucker!  Worthless!  Do you hear that, you slut!  You can’t suck a cock to save your life!  That’s something else I’m going to have to teach you!” and with that, she spat into my forced open mouth!  Actually spat her saliva into my mouth.   I shuddered.  It was so hot and sexy and wrong and debased and… I wanted more!

“I know one thing a slut like you is good for though!” she growled.  And with that she hauled me up from her cock and told me to get to my feet.  Still looking me in the eyes as I scrambled and keeping me bent over as I did so, I could see pull out a small pocket-sized bottle lube from her pants pocket.  I moaned as I realized what was coming.

“That’s right gurl.  Daddy’s gonna fuck that sweet little ass of yours.  You may be worthless as a cock sucker – for now – but you know how to use that ass on Daddy’s cock, don’t you?  Slut!  Don’t you?”

I was entirely aflame!  God this woman!  She was talking right to my soul in the most dirty and sexy way!

“Yes daddy!  Yes!  I’m your slut, Daddy!  I’m your slut!  I’ll do better sucking your cock Daddy!  I’m sorry Daddy!  I’ll do better, I promise!! I promise, Daddy!  I promise I will!” I mewed at her, caught in our role play.

“Really?  You think so?  I’ll hold you to that, slut.  I’m going to skull fuck you the next time.  You’ll puke on my cock and I’ll keep going until you learn to do it right!”  She said fiercely.

She was making my knees weak with that talk!

Her “cock” lubed enough, the bottle quickly disappeared and her hand now grabbed my ass to pull me to her “cock.”  She pulled my panties out of the way, lined up the head of her shaft, and then pulled me down on.  Forcefully down on it.  She didn’t ram it in.  She wanted to make sure she was lined up right with her shaft.  But she did force me down on it none-the-less.  Her fingers were like talons on my ass cheek as she took hold there.  And her grip of my hair was intensely painful as she pulled me down and down and down onto her “cock.”  God it was sublime.  So objectifying and crude and primal and… wonderful!  I shrieked with pleasure as her “cock” filled me.

It seemed to go on forever and it was joyous as it did so.  But, finally, inevitably, she had herself fully inside me.  Her grip on my hair loosened and then released fully.  Only to be replaced with her hand around my throat.  Damn but she was blazing with a primal eroticism that was as arousing as it was fearful to me!  She was truly possessing me!

“Alright, slut.  I’m balls deep in you.  I’ve got my cock in you all the way.” She sneered.  “Now, slut, fuck yourself on my cock.  Show Daddy you want it.  That’s it slut.  Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock!  Fuck yourself!” she growled.

“Yes Daddy!  Yes Daddy!!! Yesssss!  Daddy!  I’m fucking myself for you Daddy!  Ohhhhh Daddy!  Daddy!!!! Your cock feels soo good, Daddy!  Soooo good!!!!” I moaned back at her as I began bouncing myself up and down on her “cock.”

“That’s it slut.  That’s it.  Make Daddy happy!  Fuck yourself like the slut you are!” she barked back at me.  And then she let go of my throat to begin mauling my breasts.  She was slapping them and grabbing them and twisting my nipples and pulling my breasts to her hungry mouth.  Once her teeth had latched onto one of my nipples she started slapping my ass with her freed hand.  Her other hand dug further into my ass cheek to keep guiding her cock into my insides.  With every stroke it grazed my “gurly G-spot” enflaming me ever further.  I was bouncing up and down on her “cock” like the slut I’d was for her.

“Ooooo!!!!! OOOoooo!  Dadddy!!!!  Daddddddy!!!!!  OOooooo!” I moaned louder.  I was so close now.

“You slut!  Cum for Daddy, you slut!  Cum on Daddy’s cock!  Cum when I tell you to slut!  Cum now!!!!  Now!!!!”

And I did.

A grinding deep powerful climax.  Not the gentle bliss our usual lovemaking summons.  But a deep gut spasming orgasm that made me see stars and curled my toes.  As I was rolling over the top into it she slammed me down hard onto her “cock” and then took hold of both my nipples to pinch and twist them harshly.  The pain was electrifying and it made my trapped shaft spasm its bliss even inside its tube confinement.  I’d cum while in chastity but rarely and never so quickly as what she brought forth right there and then.  This was so deep and rough and wonderful and I knew it would only be the first of many such times she would take me so animalistically.  

The intensity and roughness of her abusing me so wonderfully was gone in a heartbeat once I’d climaxed for her.  Her arms were around me lovingly as she pulled me to her.  She was cooing such soft praises at me then.  Smothering my breasts with her tender kisses.  Gently kissing my sorely twisted nipples and lightly running her fingers through the hair she’d just minutes before been pulling so harshly.  The gentleness was so sublime.  Her control of herself just deepened her control of me as I relished it.  I melted into her embrace.  I pressed myself to her more fully and she found herself nearly submerged under my bountiful chest.  Her tongue felt so sweet upon them.  I had to shift back to be able to bring my lips to hers.  We kissed deeply and passionately and softly then.  Kissed as the lovers we are.