CHAPTER 13
One morning, Monica and another girl entered Joe's room. Joe
was wearing a pink satin chemise gown with spaghetti straps, trying
to ignore what was under it. His breasts had finally stopped
growing, but it was too late as far as Joe was concerned; the new
appendages were immense.
Joe didn't joke about needing a bra anymore. Now he wondered
when he'd be given one to take the considerable strain of
supporting the pendulous mammaries off of his pectoral muscles.
"Good morning Joe. This is Betsy. She's a cosmetologist and
will be working on you today."
Joe groaned inwardly. He'd suspected that this would happen
sooner or later. It seemed that every occurrence brought him closer
to Dr. van Damme's promised outcome.
Betsy fussed around Joe's face. He felt her applying make-up
to his lips, eyelids, and cheeks. When she was done, she took Joe's
picture. The process was repeated several times.
Betsy was talking with Dr. van Damme as Dave Weinstein,
Monica, and a strange man looked on.
"What color is his hair going to be," asked Betsy.
"Blonde." Replied Dr. van Damme. Thinking "As if we ever had
a choice."
"In that case, I'd recommend this style."
"That's too subdued. I had something a little more extreme in
mind."
"That we can do." Said Betsy, getting some colored markers and
making changes to the close-up photographs of Joe's made up face.
When she was finished Dr. van Damme smiled and nodded her approval.
"What do you think?" She asked the strange man.
Looking at the pictures, he replied, "No problem. Child's
play. I'll go get my gear ready."
After he left, Dr. van Damme addressed Dave Weinstein. "While
Joe is under for this, I want you to remove the block on his
transvestite programming."
"Please get up and come with me Joe."
Joe had been expecting lunch, which was late. Instead here was
Monica telling him to come with her. Too apprehensive to complain,
Joe swung out of bed, slipped on his high heeled mules, and grabbed
a robe which matched his chemise.
Joe tried to remain self-possessed as he followed Monica down
the hall, but was not very successful. He knew he presented a
spectacle; a bald man with the figure of a centerfold. Walking in
his high heels produced a loud racket which resounded throughout
the corridors. With each step his large breasts bounced awkwardly,
the nipples rubbing against his satin gown, providing unwanted
stimulation. He tried to straighten up and not swing his hips so
much. This made his breasts even more prominent and walking more
tedious.
They entered a room containing a bed and some unfamiliar
gadgets.
"Strip and lie down on the bed."
Joe shed his robe and chemise. He felt uneasy, not being aware
of his implanted need to conceal his breasts.
The strange man entered and Joe experienced intense
embarrassment and instinctively covered his breasts with his arms.
He was grateful when Monica covered him with a sheet, over which
she placed a plastic mat for protection.
Monica produced a gas mask. Knowing the futility of
resistance, Joe breathed deeply. As his awareness ebbed Joe saw the
man raise what looked like a dentists drill and attach a bottle of
red fluid to it.
"Wait a minute, that's a ... "
The tattooist turned on his needle and started to outline the
unconscious man's appealing lips. He thought to himself, "Real
pretty, this one's gonna be real pretty."
