GIRLIFIED: 15 BOOKS MEGA BUNDLE

by Nikki Crescent

  I caught Keith looking at me. He looked away quickly but he knew he’d been caught. So he looked back at me slowly with red cheeks. “Where did you find those boots?” he asked with a coy voice.

  “There is a whole drawer full of boots over there,” I said, pointing to the corner where I found the boots. There were so many drawers—it would take days to explore all the options. I watched as Keith went into the drawer and pulled out his own pair of boots with furry details. They looked good on his skinny-jean-clad legs as well. But I didn’t stare for too long.

  There were so many wig options. I wanted to grab the most bland option so I could save a little bit of my pride, but a part of me wanted to grab one of the blonde wigs. There was a super cute blonde bob that was calling out to me. I started to reach for a straight long brunette wig, but then my impulses got the better of me. I snatched the blonde bob before the other guys could get at it. It took a few minutes to get it properly on my head. I had to refer to the instructions a few times—but once it was on, it looked real.

  I was done before the other guys, but I didn’t want them to know, so I pretended to spend a few extra minutes doing my makeup. I don’t know why they were moving so slowly—it was obvious that they knew exactly what they were doing… They probably just didn’t want the other guys knowing that they were experienced. I’d only ever gotten dolled up once—but I’m sure these guys had gotten dolled up more than once before they got caught. I couldn’t help but notice Keith as he was applying eyeliner: he was extremely smooth and calm as he drew that fine dark line along his eyelids. This wasn’t the first time he’d used eyeliner before. Even the way he put on lipstick seemed to be well rehearsed. He drew the red tube across his lips and then he puckered, spreading the expensive lipstick evenly on his lips. He noticed me looking at him, so I looked away quickly.

  “What?” he said.

  “What?” I said.

  “Why were you staring at me?” he asked.

  “I was just watching to see how you did it.”

  “Why? Because you think I’m some sort of expert or something?” He got close to me and stared into my eyes—but it was hard to take him seriously because his eyes truly looked feminine, and his lips looked full and soft, just like a girl’s.

  “No—it just looks like you…”

  “It looks like I what?” he said.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “It looks like you’ve done it before.”

  His face became red. He looked away quickly and bit his bottom lip. “Yeah, I’m sure you haven’t,” he said. He was suddenly finished doing his makeup. He grabbed a wig off the wall, seemingly at random. He got his hair slicked back into one of the wig caps and then he got the wig on without difficulty, as if he’d done that many times before as well. I pretended not to notice, but it was hard not to watch. He was good at cross-dressing, and he probably didn’t even know it. He’d probably been doing it for so long that he was now taking his own skills for granted.

  And the other guys were in the same boat, but they seemed to be more conscious of their secret skillset. I watched as they pretended like they didn’t know what to do with the makeup supplies they had before them, and then I watched as they seemed to miraculously figure it out. Steve didn’t look too bad once he had his cute brunette wig on, cut with short bangs. And Hector looked surprisingly hot with long blonde braids—I even caught Hector smiling as he looked at himself in the mirror.

  I looked over and saw that Keith was looking at me. “What’s your name?” he said.

  “I already told you—I’m Derek.”

  “No—Your girl name,” he said.

  “Oh,” I said. And I hadn’t even thought about it. So I just shrugged my shoulders.

  “You look like a Brenna,” he said. “I don’t know why.”

  Hector looked at me and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You do look like a Brenna.” And then I noticed Steve was nodding as well. So I guess it was decided: I was going to be Brenna for the next six months.

  And Hector would be Sarah, and Keith would be Rachael, and Steve would be Diane. The names were suiting. The more I thought about Brenna, the more I liked it. It was a little bit unique and a little bit sexy.

  “From here on, let’s all use our girl voices. And let’s make our own rule: no making fun and no judging. None of us want to be doing this. This is just as humiliating for me as it is for you, so let’s just accept that we’re all in this together,” Keith said. Then he cleared his throat. He took a deep breath and then he started to talk in a surprisingly genuine female voice. “This is me doing my best female voice. How do I sound?” she asked.

  I nodded. “You sound really good,” I said, trying to do my own female voice for the first time in front of anybody. I’d tried to do a female voice before—when I was home alone, browsing that 4chan thread. But I had no idea if I sounded even half decent.

  Apparently my voice wasn’t perfect. Rachael gave me some pointers and then I tried again. Then she nodded with a smile. “That’s a lot better,” she said. I caught myself grinning, as if I’d actually accomplished something.

  But I knew that it was all for nothing. I knew that we were just setting ourselves up to be humiliated in front of a whole camp. So when Rachael pointed out that it was almost dinnertime, a cold sweat started bathing the back of my neck. I was terrified—I was about to get a taste of the humiliation that I would be stuck with for the next six months.

  CHAPTER VII

  The four of us went to the main cabin together at 6:00 PM. We made an agreement to stick together no matter what. We knew the mockery would be bad, and we knew it would be hard for the first few days at least—but we also knew that it wouldn’t be so bad if we had each other to stick to.

  We all stopped at the front door. We had our fur coats pulled over our bodies as it was dark and cold out, and the snow hadn’t let up. None of us were brave enough to open the door to go inside. “You do it,” Rachael said to me. “You go first. We’ll come in right behind you.”

  “Me? Why me?” I said.

  And then I heard girly giggling behind us. We all spun around to see four beautiful young girls walking towards us. I froze and turned my gaze down to the floor. “Girls,” one of the young women said as she passed. She was smiling and looking right into my eyes.

  They went into the main cabin where everyone was already gathered for dinner. I looked at Rachael and she looked at me. We were both trying to figure out if the girls could tell that we weren’t really girls. It was dark out—maybe they thought that we were female newcomers—maybe there were new girls showing up all the time.

  I bit down on my tongue and took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping into the main cabin. I was ready for the mockery. I’d told myself countless times that I wouldn’t let it get to me. I didn’t know any of these people anyway, so why did I care about their opinions? I took a few steps into the cabin and then I saw that it was exclusively filled with girls. I stopped my entrance. For a moment, I thought we’d gone into the wrong cabin. Was this the women’s cabin? Was the camp split into male and female? I looked back at Rachael. “I guess we’re the first set of guys to show up,” she said.

  We looked around and found a table near the back of the room, conveniently hidden behind a thick wooden post. It was a nice little hiding spot for our first night at the camp.

  Rachael leaned over the table. “Why are there so many girls here?” she asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe they’re trying to tempt us into being straight,” I said.

  Rachael’s face became white. “I am straight, cunt,” she said.

  “I’m straight too—but they think that we’re not, don’t they?”

  “I don’t know what they think. I was pulled out of my bed this morning and now I’m here—I know as much as you—maybe even less,” she said. “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten in two days now. Where’s the food?”

  It was Diane who pointed towards the middle of the room. There wa
s a long buffet table set up in the middle of the bustling space. If we wanted food, we were going to have to parade ourselves in front of nearly one hundred young women. “I’ll pay one of you to go get me food,” Rachael said.

  “I don’t have any damn money,” Sarah said. She had her legs tightly crossed and she kept tugging down the skirt that she wore—I’m not sure why she didn’t just wear jeans like the rest of us. Maybe she couldn’t help it. Maybe she saw the skirt and she was overwhelmed with temptation—I knew the feeling.

  I stood up. “I’m getting my own food. If you guys want to come, fine. But I’m not getting anything for you,” I said. After just a few steps I could feel the gazes of the girls turning onto me. One table looked at me, and then another table, and then another. My heart was pounding. My new friends hadn’t followed me. I tried to keep my chin down so that no one would see my Adam’s apple, even though my Adam’s apple wasn’t very big to begin with. I took a deep breath as I reached the line for the food. And that’s when I recognized a face in front of me.

  She only looked back at me for a few seconds, but it was long enough to recognize her from the bus: the young man who kept badgering the bus driver for a lawyer. They’d stricken him with the same punishment: a sissified humiliation. And hell, he didn’t look half-bad in his little skirt and blouse. He wore a black choker necklace around his throat to hide his Adam’s apple, but nothing could hide his broad shoulders.

  In fact, there were a few girls in the room with broad shoulders, sitting at tables with groups of girls. And upon closer inspection, I could see some Adam’s apples. And as I stood next to their tables, I could hear their voices—some more convincing than others.

  They were all men—every single person in that room was a man dolled up like a woman. And God, some of the ladyboys in that room were stunning. My heart started to throb.

  We were at a camp for cross-dressers, and they were making us indulge in our temptations. But why? How was that going to fix us? I knew that if I spent the next six months getting dolled up and acting like a sissy, I wasn’t going to be going home any more normal than I left. Was their plan to get us over being sissies? Were they trying to just get it out from our systems?

  Or had my father sent me to the wrong camp by accident?

  I got my food and returned to the table. By the time I sat down, the other girls had clued in as well. Rachael sat with her lips parted as she stared around the room in disbelief. It was a minute before she was able to say, “I don’t understand…”

  “I don’t know. I still think it’s a setup. They’re going to humiliate us somehow. Maybe they’re baiting us…” said Sarah as she looked around with the same awe and confusion on her face. We were in a giant room full of young, sexy traps—it was my dream, but I had to pretend like I didn’t want to scream out with excitement.

  A girl at a nearby table got up and came over to us. “I overheard you ladies talking,” she said. “I’ve got one month left here. Let me just say: enjoy it while you’re here. It’s not a setup—it’s going to be the best six months of your lives.” She bent over and kissed me on the cheek, making me tense all over. A pretty trap just kissed me on the cheek—I really was in heaven. Maybe the bus did crash on those icy highways and maybe this was the afterlife.

  She giggled as she walked away from our table. “We were all shy for the first few days. Don’t worry—you’ll get over it,” she said before sitting down with her friends. There was a blonde at her table with the most magnificent blue eyes. My heart stuttered. I wanted to know how they looked and sounded so convincing. And more than anything, I wanted to know how they were all so comfortable, as if everything was completely normal and nothing was out of the ordinary.

  I was at a feminization camp and I was going to be feminized. Soon, I would be one of the many beautiful women in that room. Soon, I would be embracing my girly lifestyle. I wanted to start embracing it right then and there, but I felt a strange obligation to remain shy and quiet. I didn’t want to look desperate, and I didn’t want to look like some sort of cross-dressing-obsessed pervert.

  So for that first night, I just enjoyed the excitement that was dwelling inside me, but I kept it contained as best I could.

  CHAPTER VIII

  It was only 6:00 AM when I woke up the next morning with a strong anxiety tingling inside of me. I quietly slipped out of bed and walked over to the window, to look out at the strange camp that I’d landed in. I’d half-expected to wake up in my own bed, at home, just to find out that the whole thing had been a strange dream—and even now as I stood next to the window looking out at the camp, I wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t just a strange dream that was lasting much longer than the average dream.

  Because it still made no sense. I still couldn’t understand why my father would send me away to a camp that insisted on indulging my taboo fantasies. Was it like when a father catches his son smoking a cigarette, so he makes him smoke an entire pack in a single night? Maybe that worked with cigarettes, but it certainly wasn’t working at this sissy camp. All of the girls who were at the end of their camp run were dreading the end. They all looked so happy and so satisfied—how were they going to go home and be normal now? How could they just leave cross-dressing behind after six of the most fun months of their lives?

  And what would happen to me? Would I really become like them—so convincing and so comfortable? If I went home like that, my father would certainly disown me and kick me out of the house.

  I looked down at myself as I stood at the window. I’d almost forgotten that I was wearing a black satin slip—it was required to wear feminine nightwear to sleep, and I honestly didn’t mind. The satin felt so good against my skin. I felt like royalty as I drifted off to sleep, and I had one of the best sleeps of my life—until that tingling anxiety crept up on me.

  There were a few girls awake in the camp—a few early risers making their way to the main cabin for early breakfast. I watched them from the bunkroom window. They all looked happy. One girl was wearing a beautiful red dress that extended down to her knees. It looked so light as it swayed in the gentle morning breeze. Her legs were exposed and smooth, but she didn’t look cold—she just looked free.

  I spotted another girl walking alone: she had long blonde braids and the cutest freckles I’ve ever seen. But she wasn’t heading to the main cabin for breakfast like the other girls; she was walking down the path—and I had no idea where that path went. But I felt strangely compelled to follow her. I could tell from her convincing and calm and comfortable look that she had been at the camp for at least a few months, and I wanted to ask her some questions. I wanted to know why I was at that camp.

  But before I could chase her down that path, I had to get ready—and getting ready was no longer just a matter of slipping on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. I had to pick out an outfit, and then I had to fix my wig and apply my makeup. I didn’t do anything too crazy with my face—just a bit of concealer, a bit of eye shadow, and a bit of lip-gloss. I was already starting to find that less was more—it only took a little bit to look feminine.

  I spent fifteen minutes buzzing through that cabin dressing room, and I ended up getting a bit carried away when it came to picking an outfit to wear out of the cabin. There were just so many options—enough that I could have worn something different every single day for the next six months, and still not have gone through everything. So I wanted to make sure that I was wearing the best they had to offer. I ended up going with a pair of black leggings, knee-high brown boots, and a light beige top under a camo-green cardigan. It was the thick infinity scarf that brought the whole outfit together (with the added bonus of hiding my Adam’s apple).

  I realized that I’d probably missed my chance to catch up with that girl. I’d been in that cabin dressing room for almost half an hour already. But I figured I would take my chances anyway, so I started down the trail, hoping to catch up to the cute little blonde.

  It was a peaceful path, leading away from the camp
, into the forest. The forest seemed magical, untouched by even the slightest breeze in that mountain valley. Tall snow rested quaintly on tree branches, and the silence was incredible; I couldn’t believe how quiet it was! No traffic, no homeless people yelling at one another, no Puerto Ricans blasting their car stereos… Living in the city, it’s easy to forget what real silence is like. I felt like I could almost hear the Earth spinning on its axis.

  Ten minutes from the camp, the path split into two. I stopped and stared down both options. Then I noticed the fresh tracks in the snow, veering to the left. So I followed them. While I walked, I looked down at the snow and noticed there were no returning tracks—so the girl must have still been out for her morning walk. Maybe I would catch up to her after all.

  The snow seemed to be deeper further from the camp—almost up to my knees now. Walking wasn’t so easy, but I was able to step my feet into the tracks I was following, so there wasn’t as much snowy resistance. I had to watch my feet while I walked, to avoid letting snow fall into my boots—though because my boots fit so snugly on my calves, that didn’t seem to be too much of a problem.

  “Oh, hey there,” a voice said. I looked up from my feet and saw the braided blonde once again. She was sitting on a log with the snow cleared off of it, staring out at a frozen lake. She had a cute white toque with a white cotton ball on her head, and matching white gloves. She looked like a precious little ice dancer.

  “Hi,” I said, smiling. I still felt extremely exposed and vulnerable dressed like a girl. I still wasn’t entirely sure if I even looked like a convincing girl, and I was pretty sure I didn’t sound like a convincing girl.

  “I like your boots,” she said.

  “Thanks. I like your toque,” I said.

  She smiled. She had a cute smile. I felt suddenly jealous. I only knew that she was actually a man because I knew that there were only men at the camp—but had I met her outside of the strange sissy camp, I would have thought without a shadow of a doubt that she was a woman. She looked like a woman and she sounded like a woman. She was way cuter than any girlfriend I’d ever had in my life, and she was probably cuter than any female classmate I’d ever had in my life. Looking at her precious face, I couldn’t help but think that she was meant to be a woman—and the same could be said about many of the girls at the sissy camp. But could the same be said about me?