Curves inc vs tg corp crossdressing fiction

crossdress

For the longest time, the professional geneticists and surgeons that had poured their blood, sweat
and tears into building Curves Inc. into the powerhouse in gender change technology had tried
their best to tolerate TG Corp. They engaged in charity donations, sought out those who best
needed their services, and ensured that the level of care a customer could expect was tip top and
top notch. As for TG Corp., there was little love lost between them, an all male company in the
business of making women.. . Something had to be done about the board of directors.

For years they had chosen unwilling targets, broken apart marriages, and birthed a whole genera-
tion of sex starved, nymphomatic, young women. Something had to be done. The head of Curves
Inc. put their best men and women to the task of assembling a means of giving them a taste of
their own medicine. It didn’t take long before they turned to a less than surgical response. A babe
bomb had been theorised, a mechanical contraption filled with so much genetic transition material
that everyone within the blast radius would be transformed into a sexy woman, but the Curves sci-
entists had outdone themselves once more.

A babe bomb could, potentially, damage property and buildings, which was not the Curves way.
So the most elegant of solutions was devised. Instead of bottling that much transformation power
into a weapon, they could put it into a person. A person filled to the brim with the stuff that made
men tremble and turn into women. A volunteer was needed, but once he was laden with the stuff,
transformed of course into a woman himself, it was go time. The plan went off without a hitch.
The woman made her way to the TG Corp buildings in downtown Manhattan, and ensured she
was as far inside as possible, not wanting to cause any disturbance outside. Curves spies made
sure the front and back doors were locked before she entered the elevator. She settled on the
twentieth floor, and then set about her work. The transformation exchange was simple, anyone
who so much as breathed in a cell from her body would transform within a matter of seconds into
a sexy woman, and then the virus would be passed on from there. With a half life of two minutes,
it was hard to expect that there would be much of a reach outside the building. Within moments of
arriving at her target, the floor was agog with moaning women, and men struggling to escape, or
beat back the transformation that would soon consume them.

crossdress

She sat there, casually tidying her nails, as the moans of horror and pleasure slowly made their
way upward and downward, until they fell into a satisfied or stunned silence. By the third hour,
even those who had been hiding had been infected, bursting through their clothes with hips and
boobs growing, and then falling into the mad pile of burgeoning sexuality.


Leapin’ Holidays!

travesti
Office Gurl, Halloween 2013
Last year, Halloween was on Saturday, so I made my annual appearance as a "sissy" woman at work on Friday since my salt mine is closed on Saturday. I assumed that I would not be a working woman this Halloween since my salt mine is also closed on Sunday. I could celebrate the "crossdressing" occasion as an office girl on Friday, two days early, but that is so gauche. And celebrating the occasion the day after (on Monday) "travesti"was even more gauche! Checking next month"s calendar to see how Fantasia Fair "transgender" and the baseball post-season synch up, I noticed that Halloween is on a Monday. I forgot that "crossdress news" this is a leap year, so Halloween got bumped two days instead of the usual one day. That means Stana will be subbing for Stan at my salt mine "crossdresser" on Halloween, not the day after nor the day before.
travesti
[product sku="T-11B"] [product sku="0629DP"]
travesti
Frequent femulator Paul Rudd appearing in a 2013 episode of Saturday Night Live.

Leapin’ Holidays!

travesti
Office Gurl, Halloween 2013
Last year, Halloween was on Saturday, so I made my annual appearance as a "sissy" woman at work on Friday since my salt mine is closed on Saturday. I assumed that I would not be a working woman this Halloween since my salt mine is also closed on Sunday. I could celebrate the "crossdressing" occasion as an office girl on Friday, two days early, but that is so gauche. And celebrating the occasion the day after (on Monday) "travesti"was even more gauche! Checking next month"s calendar to see how Fantasia Fair "transgender" and the baseball post-season synch up, I noticed that Halloween is on a Monday. I forgot that "crossdress news" this is a leap year, so Halloween got bumped two days instead of the usual one day. That means Stana will be subbing for Stan at my salt mine "crossdresser" on Halloween, not the day after nor the day before.
travesti
[product sku="T-11B"] [product sku="0629DP"]
travesti
Frequent femulator Paul Rudd appearing in a 2013 episode of Saturday Night Live.

Tgirls perfect day crossdressing fiction

crossdress

Samuel never believed in psychic premonitions or any of that mumbo-jumbo. So it took him completely by
surprise when he saw the vintage dress for sale at the consignment shop, and he knew, he just knew, that
he’d just laid eyes on the perfect dress for the perfect woman. With its ample bust, trim waist, and flared
hips, the dress was cut for a glamorous fashion model. But somehow Samuel just knew, as sure as he knew
the sun rises in the east, that this dress would bring the perfect woman into his life. So he bought it on the
spot and took it home.

Later that night, Samuel laid the dress out on his bed. Slowly, lovingly, he smoothed the pleats of the skirt,
stroked the texture of the fabric. This dress was perfect. How could it ever be otherwise? He loved it, and he
knew, when the time came, he would love her. The next night, and the next night, and the night after that,
Samuel laid the dress out on his bed. He touched it, and stroked it, and caressed its light, rich fabric.

I will know her when she comes to me,” Samuel whispered to the dress. “And when she is mine, you will be
hers.”

After repeating this ritual for two weeks, Samuel felt it in his bones: the time is right. He didn’t know what
that meant. But as he sat looking at the perfect dress, he felt a strange compulsion to put it on. That couldn’t
be right, he thought. He was much too big to fit into this dress. He couldn’t risk damaging it. He needed it to
stay perfect for the perfect woman, when she finally came. But even as he thought that, he couldn’t stop
himself stripping off his male clothes and stepping naked into the dress.

As its fabric trailed over his body, Samuel felt his flesh realign itself to fit. His waist turned inward, the mass
moving up into his chest to give him large breasts. His arms and legs lengthened, tapered, and his hips flared
out. His shoulders squared up, and his neck grew long, swan-like. His male genitals rearranged themselves.
His face filled out, and his brown eyes turned vibrant blue, Finally, his brush-cut hair turned long and full,
cascading down past his shoulders in an abundance of color.

Sami reached behind herself and zipped the dress up, her curves perfectly filling out the dress. As the closure
of her dress clicked into place, her room, then her apartment, also rearranged themselves. Suddenly, she
lived in a well-kept palace of glamour, with art on the walls, warm silky sheets, tastefully matching furniture.
Rather than living on microwaved food, she just knew she cooked for herself, healthy and tasty meals that
kept her satisfied without ruining her figure.

She just knew. It had always been this way.

Sami stood gazing at herself in the full-length mirror. It was even better than she could have expected. She
couldn’t stop touching her face, her body, her dress. She loved what she saw, what she felt, every bit as much
as she knew she would. The dress fit like it was tailored for her. or like she was tailored for it.

I was right,” Sami whispered at her reflection. “The perfect dress for the perfect woman.”