Story: Scrubbing His Record Clean. Chapter 7.

by Camille Langtry

I could not sleep that night as the events of the previous few weeks continuously replayed in my mind - Danielle’s departure, my showdown with Nicole, her offer, our cleaning training sessions in my home. Now the biggest step yet was ahead of me. To say that I was nervous was a huge understatement. However, the nervousness was outweighed by a strong feeling of excitement and anticipation. As I was finally drifting off to sleep, my tired mind was imagining how my session with Nicole would go tomorrow now that we had all the necessary equipment for my transformation.

The truth of the matter was, I had no idea what to expect. With Nicole’s encouragement, I'd checked out a few crossdressing websites. I was amazed how believable many of the men there looked. Most of them were regular guys, just like me. Yet, with the right makeup and right lighting and with appropriate clothing and well-rehearsed mannerisms they looked like real women. Some ever looked super hot and a lot prettier than 80 percent of natural women that I’d come across. Could I pull it off too? That was important for my cleaner impersonation. I did not want to be caught and humiliated. I wanted to be accepted as a regular female cleaner, who was perhaps not a beauty, but definitely not a man in drag either. There was certainly a lot I had to learn still with Nicole’s help. For all of this to work smoothly I had to learn to be more like her.

The next morning Nicole was at my door again. It was her day off, meaning she could spend more time with me than normally. I opened the door and let her in, but not before spotting my neighbour across the street giving me a curious look from his porch. I wondered what he was thinking. What if he'd seen Nicole coming to my place earlier as well? Or, worse still, overheard our conversations or seen me in my cleaning garb through the window? I was super careful to remain discreet, but there was only so much I could do, there was always room for a slip-up.

“So, our little package from America is finally here?” was Nicole’s question as she entered the living room. “Bring it here! I want to see it!”

I brought the box with my crossdressing supplies and watched as Nicole began taking out one item after the other, inspecting them very thoroughly. There was a mischievous smile on her made up face again as if she’d just come up with a brilliant plan.

“I also brought you something,’’ she said and put a plastic bag on the table. “We're gonna need it for your transformation. Breast forms and wigs are fine, but there is something very obvious you need to do first.”

“What is it?” I asked her. Here she was, talking in riddles again. Why did she always feel the need to give me those introductions instead of getting to the point? Was it her way of manipulating me into constantly feeling her superiority?

“Well, what do you think? What is one of the things that makes women different from men? Any ideas?” she asked me, and stroked her chin and cheek.

“Oh yeah, sorry, forgot to shave this morning. Give me a few minutes,’’ I responded.

“It’s not only that. I’ve noticed your arms are pretty hairy too. I can only imagine what your legs look like. It will probably look gross when we get you into a skirt, don’t you think?” she asked, even though she hardly expected an answer. She already knew what to do.

“Here, take this and read the instructions before using,’’ she opened her bag and handed me an unopened plastic tube that still had a price sticker on it. “It’s a hair remover. Fairly strong stuff. I don’t think it would work on your beard very well, but for your legs, arms and chest it should be very effective. At least that’s what I read online.”

I took the tube from her hand and went to the bathroom. I never liked creams or lotions, they made me feel strange. Yet, in this case I had to admit that Nicole was right. What did she say in passing about getting me into a skirt? I certainly wasn’t planning to wear one in public. That was completely out of the question. At the same time, with the short-sleeves of my cleaner’s uniform, my hairy arms were pretty visible. That was something I had to address. As well as my bristle.

I quickly shaved and just when I was about to use my electric razor on my arms and my legs I spotted something on the bathtub - a pink Gillette Venus razor that had belonged to Danielle. I just could not resist the urge to use it instead! I put shaving cream on my arms, chest and legs and began shaving with my wife’s razor. It was a very strange feeling and, after I was done, my body felt very itchy. After all, I’d never done anything like that before. Applying the hair removal cream that Nicole gave me only added to the itchy sensation. Thankfully, if the  instructions on the tube were to be believed, that was not something I had to do every day - if applied regularly, hair growth would slow down dramatically and might even stop completely in some cases.

I returned to the living room to the waiting Nicole, who, while I was busy with my body hair, had laid out numerous items of makeup on the table.

“That is something you will need to learn yourself, but for now I can show you the basics,” she said.

“Is that really necessary?” I protested. “I don’t want to end up looking like a drag queen or something. I don’t like makeup, it makes you look cheap.’’

“Oh yeah? So you saying I look cheap?” she asked me and I realised my mistake. Nicole was clearly a believer in red lipstick, dramatic eye shadow and mascara. She looked inappropriate to me, resembling more a pop diva than a simple cleaner, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. “If you want to look ugly, be my guest.”

“Sorry, Nicole, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just not my style. You don’t think I can look passable without layers of makeup?” I asked her, trying to minimise the damage with little visible success.

“What do you mean, your style? You have no style to speak of! And if you want to become a cleaner, you have to start thinking like one. I don’t think we can achieve the desired look without makeup. There is just too much David in you,’’ was her response.

I looked at the dozen boxes and tubes of various shapes and sizes that Nicole had brought and sighed, completely resigned to my fate. I still did not like the idea one bit, but had to agree that makeup was consistent with the cleaner persona that we were creating. Nicole herself was, perhaps, a bit on the extreme side with her deep red lipstick and thick mascara, which were probably only appropriate for a night club, but other cleaners I’ve come across also did not shy away from it. I guess that was their way to compensate for their plain uniforms, as they tried to show off their femininity in the best way they could. The fact that most of them came from working class families also added to the overall image of unrefinement. That was clearly something I had to take into account if I wanted to pass as a cleaning woman.

“Ok, do your worst,’’ I finally told her.

“Not so fast, let’s put on your armour first. And then put on the uniform over it. Let’s see how you look,’’ she told me, clearly happy I wasn’t fighting her anymore. “Don’t be scared, I won’t spy on you.”

I took the box to my bedroom and began dressing. The padded panties came first. They had a built-in gaff that gave me a surprisingly smooth appearance between my legs. It had pockets in the back and sides to put silicone pads, that filled out my hips and bum, giving me the needed womanly appearance. Large breast forms were next. They came with an adhesive to make sure they stayed in place. The forms were also a lot heavier than I thought they would be. There came with a matching bra that I put on not without some difficulty. I eventually remembered to do it the way Danielle always did -  hooked it up in front and then turned it around and put my arms through the straps last. I just did not have the flexibility to fasten it in the back!

I looked in the mirror. I had to admit that my foundations made me look decisively feminine, giving me the hourglass figure of a mature woman. Yes, it was all completely artificial and my short hair and my face contrasted sharply with my wide hips and a prominent bust, but still the change in my body was profound. It was amazing I could achieve that with only some padding and breast forms. Guess I wasn’t that manly after all if I could erase much of my manliness so easily.

I put on the short-sleeved cleaner’s uniform. Putting it over my large breasts and new hips gave me a very new sensation. It felt very different all of a sudden as my body was completely off balance. Getting used to all this new weight on my chest and hips would take some time. I inspected my reflection in the mirror again. With the uniform on I looked even more feminine as my breast forms and padded panties were no longer visible - instead, my pants clung tightly to the newly large derriere and my breasts stuck out provocatively, stretching the polyester material of my uniform shirt almost to its limit.  From the neck down I looked undeniably feminine. I suddenly realised that Nicole was right - to complete the look something had to be done about my face.

I looked inside the box and took out the last item - a wig. It was blonde and reached to my shoulder blades. With some difficulty I fitted it over my head, completely covering my short brown hair. I had to admit it looked pretty good on me. I'd never realised that I was a blonde at heart, I chuckled to myself as I twirled a few times by the mirror, giving myself one last inspection before I was ready to face Nicole and her makeup kit.

“WOW, girl,  you look awesome,’’ she told me the moment she saw me and gave out a wolf whistle. I couldn’t help but blush, but took it as a compliment. Seeing how convincing I was really boosted my confidence and determination.

“Now, one last thing we need to do,’’ she told me and had me take a seat next to her on the sofa.

The next 45 minutes Nicole applied and reapplied makeup to my face, without allowing me to see my reflection. Danielle was never a fan of makeup, only putting on something very light for special occasions, so I had no idea how laborious the process was. Thankfully I had Nicole to do it for me, I couldn’t imagine doing it myself anytime soon ... if ever.

After a few more expert strokes with a brush Nicole gave me a final look over and nodded her head in approval: “Looking good. I think that’s the best we can do. Go look at yourself, beauty queen!”

I let it slide with the “beauty queen” comment and went to the bathroom to see the new me. Seeing myself like this for the first time made me realise Nicole was not joking at all. I did look like a beauty queen. I wasn’t sure if it was my natural looks or Nicole’s skill as a beautician or the combination of the two, but I looked like an honest to God woman. A pretty woman. I was not a sexy traffic stopper by any stretch of the imagination, of course, but there was absolutely nothing even remotely manly about my appearance anymore. Well, maybe my nose was a little bit large, but it wasn’t as if every woman had a tiny delicate nose either. 

“You liking what you see?” Nicole asked me as she entered the bathroom and stood behind me, inspecting her creation one more time.

“I have no words, Nicole. It feels so strange to constantly smell and feel all this makeup on my face. Very unusual,’’ was my reply.

“You’ll get used to it. So, what did I tell you? Was I right or was I right?” she asked me triumphantly. “I assume we go ahead with our little plan after all?”

“Of course we do,’’ I responded excitedly and smiled, parting my flawless coral lips. 

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