An Apprentice Needs Help

by Wannabe ginger

Chapter 9

We walked back to Ginger's home. I mused over the last few hours as we walked. The morning of the Competition had flashed by as Ginger and I sat in the café sipping cappuccinos and watching the world go by. We had been to the nail salon and I now sported crimson nails. I had talked with Crystal, the Nail Technician — why was she called that? — she deserved something more sexy…. Talon Queen! She had worked wonders with my relatively short nails. The café had seen us exploring a magazine with hair styles and colours that we both might fancy.

I was still dressed in Ginger's most unisex outer clothing — all that had been available this morning after we had woken and made love. I had resolved that I would be "up for" anything that today would throw at me. Whatever Karen had in mind for a hair style and colour. After the description that Karen gave last evening, I had a good idea of what would be done, but how it would look, I couldn't possibly imagine! It was awesome what she had described! Pure fantasy! Whatever Margot's mother would dream up for make-up. Whatever clothing we were to wear — although the last was going to test my resolve, maybe!

We were to go back to Ginger's and change. We had to choose clothes in which the judges of the competition would see us in the "Before" part of a "Before and After" judging process. They had to see each stylist's three (female) models with their hair completely unattended — un-cut, un-coloured and un-styled. Everyday feminine clothing would be fine and, of course, I had none, so had to borrow more from Ginger. I would keep the corset and stockings that she had provided this morning.

My hair was still a relatively dull brown. Its length had reached past my chin for the most part. The cut had been designed to promote the length, reduce split ends and enhance the condition. Nothing more had been done over the past few weeks, apart from several "practice" roller sets and step-by-step cutting to improve the shape. I had grown increasingly fond of that roller setting part of the process. Here was something incredibly sexy. The winding of the hair around the rollers fixated my gaze into the mirror every time. The rollers got larger. The curls got larger. The style got more and more feminine. As the dryer played on my rollered hair, I gave thought to having sex with Ginger whilst the set was taking shape.

I was hooked.

Ginger knew this. She encouraged me. In fact, she had become hooked too. As we set eachother's hair, it became a natural kind of foreplay and we had enjoyed sex several times after the comb-out stage…. but never yet whilst I was still in rollers, nor her for that matter. It had become "Boy and Girl" and "Girl and Girl", separately and together. She was hooked. What a wonderful girlfriend.

"Penny for your thoughts." She said.

I told her, finishing just with "Don't let's give up on this, whatever tonight brings."

"You try and stop me!" was her reply.

We reached the door of her home and entered. Neither of us wanted to eat. My cock was still restrained and in need of release. We had an hour… and oh, how we wanted to use it!

"Keep the corset and the stockings….." Ginger whispered as we settled on the bed. "….. I like the feel of them." She unwound the lacy lycra that had entwined my cock and balls all morning. Blessed relief! We sank into a wonderful haze of gentle-at-first lovemaking. Increasingly urgent, she pulled me towards her and an hour passed in what seemed like seconds.

For me, the best time was the endless oral pleasure I was able to give her, bringing Meg Ryan-like orgasms for real, time and time again. I felt entirely female in those minutes that hung together, seeming like hours. I explored the wonderful anatomy of her pussy, rthe wonderful folds of skin with their nerve endings jangling, the beautiful button that rsponded to the slighted lick of a tongue.... Absolutely fabulous!

We laid back, each satisfied — she, several times over - for a while before showering. Showering together is an over-rated pastime but, in this case it became great fun. We emerged, towelled ourselves dry and then blow-dried eachother's hair.

"Everyday make-up is what was ordered…." Ginger stated with authority. "Let's get to it!" I had to make sure that I shaved as closely as I had ever done before that. There was no place for the slightest stubble or facial hair. I soaped my skin with the hottest water I could bear, remembering I should chill it with freezing cold water afterwards to avoid flushing. I shaved once and then again.

For speed, Ginger did her own make-up before turning to mine. Light foundation would be enough, with some eye shadow and a little mascara. "You'll have lashes tonight, wait and see!" Ginger teased me. I could put on my own lipstick, she said — and I could now, with ease!

The choice of clothes was hers to make. We walked to her wardrobe and I was entirely in her hands. "You should put the corset back on, so that means the stockings too. Go on, you can work the suspenders." Her tone was very matter-of-fact. There appeared to be nothing unusual in what she was saying to her boyfriend.

Could we be called Girlfriend and Boyfriend? I'm sure we could! We had now made love many more times than lots of couples would have.

Still, these were unusual words to pass between a couple, from Girl to Boy!

"What about my cock?" I asked, conscious that the corset was tricky to get into, let alone with a cock that was stirring again.

"Oh, come here!" Ginger said. "Do you mind?" She asked, flashing her fingernails — meaning that the clawing action that put paid to me last time was about to happen again. "Oh, ouch!" I smiled. This was worth it — no pain, no gain!

Ginger chose a long flowing skirt and a blouse with a ruffled front for my "everyday" outfit. Neutral. Nothing to attract great attention. More of a contrast to whatever we would be wearing for the final judging. The idea was to make as much of the transformation as possible between "Before" and "After".

Ginger chose a similar outfit for herself after selecting a matching set of lacy pink bra and knickers that I thought would be gorgeous for myself sometime. Really! I must contain these thoughts that are hitting me increasingly often!

Then, I thought: I still had no female shoes!

Not only that, I still was lacking in the tits department!

"Easy…." said Ginger, "for the shoes…… with the daywear you're in, your own trainers will do — they're not a pretty colour, but they are white and they're almost new. Here… put on these short socks, yes, over the stockings, they'll make you look like the girl in "Grease", Olivia what's-her-face! I'm sure she ended up getting screwed in that movie! Remember when she came out with her ski-tight lycra on and her hair all curled and streaked? Wow, was that sexy! I nearly wet myself, and I was only 12! I fell in love with my first girl movie star!"

It seemed to answer the need and there were no shoes to wear besides the trainers. Then, I gestured towards my bust "that wasn't there".

The tits were another problem. "Don't know what we can do about them!" Ginger exclaimed. "Stuff your bra with a couple of my pairs of knickers — how about that? You can even use ones I've been wearing if you like!"

"Oh, I don't want people to think I'm kinky!" I joked…., reaching for her linen basket. Two pairs of pink knickers later, I had a respectable bustline. Nothing outrageous, but just right.

I now had my make-up done, my clothes all in order and my hair left all forlorn and crying out for styling! Ginger would have none of it. She refused to do anything with it, just towel-dried as it was. "It has to look plain. Just like my own has to."

We compromised. Ginger had two plastic clasps that were nearly as long as the back of my head. They're all over the place on countless girls' heads if you look. Ginger took a tough brush and drew all my hair back at the sides and up from the nape of my neck. She produced a pleat with my newly-washed (plain brown, remember) hair. Plain Jane was a name that would have applied. She soon had me attending to her own hair in the same way. This was tricky to do because her hair is much thicker than my own, and a two- or three inches longer. So, her pleat was a beautiful crowning style — one which I thought immediately that I could live with myself!

We were ready to go to the Hall where the event was to take place — for the first viewing by the judges. This was it. Never mind having been out with polished nails and my hair done previously. My first attempt to pass as a girl before anyone who didn't know me — apart from Crystal at the nail salon, but she had already guessed or been told. She had been very complimentary in any case, but this was the beginning of the challenge that would last several hours.

We walked towards the town centre and the Hall, for inspection. Glances passed between us and other groups of girls that we saw. Nothing suggested anything unusual.

I began to feel quite in the role that I was to play. It was odd to have my hair up and away from my neck. I quite like the feeling and told Ginger so. "Maybe, you can wear it that way more times! Especially if it makes you feel girlie!"

W got closer to the Hall. The number of people around was no more an no less, but I did notice a few girls with what you'd say were "Model" looks; big eyes, high cheekbones — maybe these were some that we would be up against in the competition. We entered the Hall up a long series of steps. I wasn't prepared for what was in there.

I just didn't know what to expect — not the least of it was the raised platform, so that the audience (the audience!!!!???) could see….. but also the lighting rig above the platform — the lights were already shining full flood down upon the chairs and mirrors that stood in a circle. There were fourteen places — each with three chairs behind for each "team" of three models. It was like the stage at Wembley Arena. I was struck by wondering how many people would be coming … just to watch me have my hair cut, coloured and set!

Ginger grabbed my hand. "Aren't you excited?, I am, I really am!" she exclaimed — and the few people who were already inside looked around to see where the shouts had come from.

To tell the truth, I was already over-awed. Excited, in a sense, but just struck by what I'd agreed to get myself into. My cock stirred again, just at the sense of the total inescapability of what was to happen — I was in up to my neck in this, quite literally, and there was no way of escape, even if I wanted it. I thought of making love with Ginger, looking at her as she stood beside me, and my cock really began to remind me how different I was to all the other models.

I had to focus on being as much like them as I could be. Act girlie! Don't overdo it! I smoothed the blouse and the skirt. I looked in a mirror and, just as before at the house, I double-took on the girl I saw there. It was me. How would I look when the make-up and hair had been done. My heart beat was rising. If I wasn't careful, I'd cum in my pants just at the thought. I had to avoid that! I had to cover myself and soon found the exit — to the toilets! Which to go in? The Ladies, of course! To even have thought I could have walked through the door marked Gentlemen was absurd!

There were a couple of girls inside, preening in the mirrors — more mirrors — (they seemed to be everywhere!) and I passed them by into cubicle. I sat to compose myself. I couldn't have peed even if I wanted to, so tightly was my cock tied up. The two girls were talking and I couldn't do anything but listen.

"I've done lots of these before." said one. "Me too, ever been really left with a colour or style that you had to get rid of the same night?" said the other.

"Oh, of course, the more that you go to, the more you know that the stylists are on an ego trip and want to shock everyone else." said the first in a matter-of-fact way. "Well, I've never had that trouble….." was the response. "…pity really, I should think it's quite fun to be out shocking people!"

I paused and thought to myself. Karen's ideas were quite shocking in their way — quite a complex and difficult set of processes — for all of the heads she would be styling tonight. I began to hope that nothing would go wrong. I didn't want to shock too many people. I began to think about how I'd handle that……

"Are you still in there???" Ginger shouted through the cubicle door. She had come to find me because I had taken so long. My cock had subsided, thankfully, so I was free to emerge. "They're getting ready for the first inspections. The room's full!"

And it was. All the fourteen stylists places were taken. Each wore a tunic with the sponsor's logo clearly visible……. "Because you're worth it!" There were more than thirty models already milling round in the middle of the platform. Among them, I could see Karen and Margot. Margot's Mother was nowhere to be seen. Her skills would be applied later. Margot still looked surly — when would that girl cheer up??

Karen, on the other hand, was bubbling. "How cool is this??!! Thanks Sooooo much for going through with this, all of you!! I've decided who to work on first. Guess which one of you!" "You!!!!!!" she said pointing at me directly with a broad smile. Yes, I was to be first onto the platform, first to have the total transformation that was promised. I was not going to have the chance to see what to expect with the others going first. I would end up as the model that the others would be made to look like.

Around me, I was conscious of these countless women — some of them very attractive and most of them experienced in what was to come. I saw redheads — first, in a crowd, I always picked out the redheads — and blondes. There were two or three women with jet black hair as well. Few had brown hair like my own. I wondered why. The judges would see much less change in the blondes and the jet blacks. Maybe that was why Karen had kept our hair as neutral as possible — apart from Margot's streaks and Ginger's natural red that had been enhanced for years.

Few of the girls were wearing their hair 'up' — again, I wondered why. When the judges came to look at us, they would make up their minds before reaching each of them, whereas, with hair up, they'd have to stop and ask for it to be released. How cool was that — to feel hair that had been tied set free. I felt the wave of warmth again as my cock responded. This was going to be a troublesome night if I didn't get a grip on that responsiveness!

The stylists were called to assemble their groups of models around their tables and mirrors. The judges were about to enter the room. There was a hush and Ginger squeezed my hand again. Karen put her hand on the nape of my neck and gently stroked the hairline that was showing as my hair remained tied up in the clasp that Ginger had found. She stroked the hairline again. "You're going to look stunning!" she whispered quietly. "Thanks." Was all I could muster in reply.

The judges began their tour along the line at the far side of the circle of mirrors. So, we would be halfway through the inspection. The first two or three tables almost all looked the same — all blondes, all highlighted, all tousled and shoulder length. Apart from being very predictable, it struck me that their hair was already done! What could the stylists do to show their skills. A good cut, maybe.

The next three or four mirrors were surrounded by a mixed bag of models with styles of hair that were, at best, a rag-bag of shapes, colours and styles waiting to be put in order. There was no great attraction in any of them and, whilst I could imagine my own hair long, highlighted and tousled, these were often short — even cropped — or frizzy curls in a mess. There was one white blonde, whose cropped hair was stunning, it's true - but she looked too boyish for comfort — I thought that I was the only one cross-dressing for the show! Nobody would have rushed to run their fingers through her crop, that was for sure!

Likewise, there was a girl with an aubergine coloured mop that attracted attention as she shook it quite wildly. Again, what was the stylist to do to make something of that? I'd look out for her with interest in the final dressing and judging.

The judges were getting closer. There were five of them. Two were male and quite mildly camp to use a term. Neither was effeminate, but you could tell that they were quite content in their ways. One had light highlights in his hair, the other a harsh "Number one" cut all over. Not my style at all.

The other three were female. One was tall and totally commanding of all the attention. Her red hair was piled high with tendril curls swept around her head. A triumph of construction. I could just imagine how long she had been in rollers and how many pins there were holding that lot up so high! I really could imagine my own hair done like that for a special occasion! I nudged Ginger and said "One day…….. do me like that will you?"

"Ahh, so you really do 'wannabe', don't you!" she smiled.

"Too right!" was my reply.

The other two female judges were older, clearly successful salon owners in their own right. One had a shock of blonde highlights to the front of her head, framing her face, with a dark crescent of curls behind, clearly heavily styled and set, enhancing the impact of the blonde around her face. Her bust was huge and her heels were high. I quite expected her to topple forwards at any moment. The last of the judges was a shorter, quite petite lady. Her clothes were smart and tailored. Her hair was suitably set to match, the crown combed high and the ends flicked up in a 'touch me' kind of way, the colour was a melee of blonde and darker shades. The roots were clearly intentional. I studied her again. More than the others. I just had a 'double-take'. There was something about her that made me wonder.

I wondered, quite why I don't know, whether she might just, like me, be a "he". She was perhaps in her mid-30s. Her hair was just that bit too 1960s to be true. Its colours were just that little bit girlie. The roots were definitely intentional and, in the circumstances, maybe just a little out-of-place. Her make-up was also a little heavy and dated…. Like mine was probably going to be when applied later this evening.

Her body was be-suited in a tight-fitting garment that accentuated her bust. Her stockings, or tights, were shimmering lycra and of a dark flesh tone with a seam up the back of each leg. Her shoes were shiny patents with 2-3 inch heels.

Whether she was a he or not became irrelevant as the three judges descended on our 'pitch' around the mirror. The conversation was rapid-fire questions and, from Karen only, answers. It was as though we were expected, as models, to be deaf dumb and blind. Questions were asked about the hair Karen was to work on. How experienced was she with "these heads"? What were her stylistic intentions? What were the potential problems she anticipated?

Of my own hair, Karen said it was lacking body to carry the style she intended to develop but that would be compensated for with what she called lots of "volumizing mousse". Karen released my hair from the clasp that had held it up away from my neck and my hair fell loosely over my ears and around my chin. I shook it, almost flirtatiously. It was good to feel it free again. With Ginger's hair, it was the very wonderful nature of her own colouring; how could it possibly be improved? She said she believed that she had a way in mind. With Margot's, the issue was different. The condition and the lack of good cutting in the past meant that there was a real challenge, Karen said, but she would do her best.

The three of us looked at eachother in amazement, Margot and I as if to say "thanks a bunch, Karen" and Ginger as if to say "I don't know what you're worrying about — we're all going to look the same in the end!"

The judges, no sooner there, were gone. I was left with my thoughts about judge number three. "She" had looked long and hard into my face in the mirror for a while. It was as if there was an unspoken word between us. Neither Ginger nor Margot commented and the thought passed quite quickly.

The time was coming for us to leave the Event Hall and to make for the local salon where we would have the basics of colouring and conditioning, and also the make-up for the evening, done. We were to go to the salon where Karen was employed and where several of her colleagues on the staff of the salon were waiting to help. They were allowed to no nothing material to affect the style or the colour that we would each undergo. But they would help speed things up by taking instructions, mixing colours, closing the foils that Karen was to apply to our heads, place us under the accelerator lights and such like things.

Ginger squeezed my hand as we approached the door to leave. "You'll have a load of fun with this!" she said as we went down the stairs into the crowed street. I was still in my near unisex gear but close to my skin there were the constrictions of the lace around my cock and the corset, not to mention the stockings that clung to my legs or the bra that hid under the plain blouse.

My hair was still free of that clasp, ready and willing to be attended to at the salon.

TO BE CONTINUED………………………… in chapter 10.

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