The Beauty Salon confirms who you are. What you are. How you wantto be. You WANT to walk through that door, into your confirmed femininity.You underst...nd the power of lipstick and the thrill of a perm. For you,lucky sisters, a Beauty Salon has become a home, a verification of yourinnate womanhood. Bless you. And Bless the women who accept you as one oftheir sisterhood as you sit under the dryer having your nails polished.For others of you, Forced Sissies of Fictionmania, that door into. Pansy Bumsley stood at the door in a filmy thin nightgown and stared at the huge man in front of her. Hardon’s eyes quickly inventoried her body but realized, regrettably, that he had work to do. He placed the child into Pansy’s arms. ‘Palmus Doubledong has directed that you take care of your brother’s son until his 21st birthday. Do you understand?’ Hardon’s eyes were locked on Pansy’s. Pansy didn’t know what to say but nodded her head in acquiescence. Hardon then turned, pulling the door. Ich hatte nichts , nur meine paar eigenen Klamotten . Keinen Job , keine eigene Wohnung . Kein Geld , kein Auto . Ich besaß nicht viel mehr als was ich hier in meiner Tasche hatte . Ein paar Kröten in meiner Geldbörse . Ein uraltes Handy . Der Mann reichte mir ein Taschentuch . Ich starrte ihn an . Ich hatte gar nicht gemerkt dass ich weinte . Ich nahm es und wischte mir die Tränen ab . Etwas Eyeliner blieb am Tuch hängen . Ich sollte echt keine Schminke verwenden wenn ich mich so dicht am. I watched wide-eyed as her marked, soiledthong slithered up me and pulled itself taught over my junk. I felt itsrasping lace sides settle over my hip bones. I couldn't believe what shewas doing!"You crazy bitch! You can't seal me in here! Please!"She carried on unabated as her old leggings encased my legs, vacuum-forming themselves with a swish of perfumed, sweaty air to my skin toallow her towering stiletto boots to consume my feet and bucklethemselves up.I screamed and writhed around as her.