T-Girl Perfume

T-Girl Perfume
by Ellie Dauber
© 2002

Helen Atwell's mother hated her daughter's live-in lover, Fred. Buying the older woman a nice birthday present won't help -- or will it?

* * * * *

From the vantage point of their bed, Fred Hogan watched his lover, Helen Atwell, stepping into her panties. Even bent over, those luscious breasts of hers didn't sag. "You sure you want to do that?" he asked. Fred shifted his tanned, muscular body under the bed sheet, so he was lying on his side. As he did, a curl of reddish brown hair slid down on his forehead.

"What else should I be doing?" She slid them up, adjusting the skimpy silk around her hips. Helen was a busty, well-curved young woman, a massive of dark blonde curls surrounding her moon-shaped face.

Fred patted the bed. "You could climb back in here with me for more of what we were doing this morning"

"Hmm, that would be nice; later maybe. In fact, you'd better get out of there yourself."

"Why, what's up?"

"You are; that's why I said 'later.' Right now, you've got to get dressed. You, stud, are going shopping with me."


"Shopping. Remember, we're going to my mother's tonight."

"Your mother hates me. Why do I have to go shopping for her?"

"Because it's her birthday tonight, and the family's throwing her a big party. You are invited. You'll be nice, give her a present, and maybe -- just maybe -- she'll decide to like you."

"You'll tell me what to buy, right. I have no idea what your mother would like."

"Actually, Mom told you already."

"She did? When?"

"She knows about the party, and she knows I'm bringing you. I asked her what she'd like for a present, and she said she'd like you to buy her some new perfume she heard about."

"Did she say why?"

"No; maybe it's expensive. You make a pretty good living. Maybe she decided you could afford a higher priced gift than poor little me." Fred was an associate at one of the largest law firms in the city, while Helen taught junior high school.

"Is that why you moved in with me, my enormous income?" Fred climbed out of bed and walked over to Helen. By now, she was almost dressed, buttoning a dark green blouse.

Helen reached down, touching him just below his waist. "Well, there is something enormous about you that I like."

* * * * *

Danner's was one of the pricier department stores in town. Helen led Fred to the outer borders of "No Man's Land," the perfume counter next to the Women's Wear Department. "I'm heading over to casual wear," she told him as she started off. "Mom asked me for a blouse."

"But...how do I do this?" Fred asked in a slightly panicky voice.

"If you bought me perfume once in a while, you'd know. Just ask the girl for the brand I told you Mom wants. She'll do the rest."

"Okay, but hurry back." He watched her walk away, enjoying the gentle sway of her ass as she walked.

"May I help you, sir?" a soft, very feminine voice asked. Fred turned around. The speaker was an Asian woman, just barely five-foot tall. She has a thin, coltish figure wrapped in a long black dress. Her straight black hair framed a lovely, round face, then fell on down to her waist.

"I...uh...my girl's mother wanted..." he looked down at the slip of paper in his hand, "T-Girl perfume. Do you...uh...sell it here?"

"Ah, yes, T-Girl," The woman smiled mysteriously. "Your girlfriend's mother, you say?"

"Yeah, she specifically told Helen that she wanted me to buy her that perfume."

The woman bent down -- "Nice, ass," Fred thought. -- and unlocked a door in the display case. She took out something, closed, and locked the door.

"Here it is," she said. She put a small, pink glass bottle on the counter. A stylized "T-Girl" was painted on the bottle in a darker pink. There was an atomized bulb attached to the top of the bottle, though Fred couldn't see how it unscrewed from the bottle itself.

"How much?" Fred reached for his wallet.

"Wouldn't you like to try it first?" The woman picked up the bottle. Before Fred could answer, she sprayed some in his face.

"Phaah!' Fred said, spitting the taste of the perfume. "What the..." He suddenly froze. So did everything else, as time seemed to stop around him.

Fred shrank, going from 5 foot 11 to 5 foot 4. As he did, he grew slender, his muscles seemingly absorbed into his body. His dockers and polo shirt hung on him like a tent for a moment, but then they shrank, fitting his thinner body as well as ever.

His hair changed to an auburn color, growing thicker, longer, past his ears and down around his now narrower shoulders. His face grew less rugged, his tan fading to a softer brown. His eyebrows became narrow lines as his nose grew smaller and his lips fuller. His prominent adam's apple shrank away so that, when he spoke again, his baritone would be a soft contralto.

The angularity of his body faded as body fat reshaped it into pleasing curves. His waist shrank in by several inches, even as his hips widened. His hands were smaller, with long, delicate fingers. His feet were several shoe sizes less than they had been.

His nipples darkened and expanded. Flesh formed behind them, pushing out small cones that bloomed into softly rounded breasts. They grew, pushing out his shirt, AA, A, B, eventually stopping at a firm C-cup.

At the same time that his breasts grew, his penis diminished. It became smaller, even as his testicles tightened and moved up into his body. Their empty sacs shrank down around the now barely two-inch long penis, forming a pair of lips. Fred's penis moved down between them, down into the hole forming at his groin, to become his clitoris, even as his organs re-arranged, altered from male to female.

There was make-up on Fred's face, now, lip gloss, blusher, and a pale blue eye shadow.

His cotton undershirt moved up around his new breasts to become a pink silk demi-bra. His boxers moved up around his crotch, the opening in front sealing, to become matching panties. His polo shirt was a blouse now, dark pink with white pearl buttons. His brown dockers fused into a single piece of cloth that moved up his legs to become a burgundy skirt that stopped just above his knees. His socks were sheerer, almost transparent, and longer. They grew up Fred's legs, merging at the waist into a pair of pantyhose. The laces vanished from his cross-trainers, as they grew a one-inch heel, and the material shifted and hardened into a pair of pumps.

Time started again.

"Well, I said I wouldn't be long," Helen said, coming back. "I got a great blouse for Mom."

Frieda Hogan turned and held up the bottle of perfume for her old friend and roommate to see. "And I got the perfume she wanted."

"Great," Helen said. "That's why my Mom likes you so much; you always do just what she wants."

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