I was sitting in my chair behind my cluttered desk when Ramon and a couple of the boys finally wandered in to find me in La-La Land dialing the panic line for locating his ass and get me some medical assistance. The lawyer lady from next door pushed right past them to hold my willing head in the center of her generous sized boobs, soothing the pain from my fractured eyes with the magic of promised pussy to revive my interest in continuing my span of existence on our troubled planet. I have to confess that I allowed my free hand to wander down from her frilly blouse to her tightly fitted skirt protecting her feminine flanks from male interference that might involve either inquisitive fingers or a fanciful hardened shaft of enlightenment. In my weakened condition, I was easy prey for her web of female deviousness and I was so lacking in any desire to keep my defensive shields up that I probably assisted her ministrations by drooling all over her Ta-tas like a schoolboy with an obsession. I had to face that. I was a woman, at least physically, and in 9 months I was going to be somebody's mother. All of that was unchangeable. The best thing I could do for my own sake was to not fight it anymore. I decided to give in; to shave my legs and put on a dress. I didn't have to like it, but I was determined to survive this. They could make me look like a woman, but they could never make me think like a woman. Or so I thought. At the club, I was taken to the beauty salon. There, I was given a perm, manicure, pedicure, facial and make-up instruction. They had me shave my own legs and underarms - and bikini line. I watched all this detached from myself, as if I were an observer as, little by little, I was turned into an attractive young woman, Laura, my new name. Lastly, they gave me some diamond earrings, pierced, a gift from Carl Jennings, my fiancee. I yelped as the studs entered my lobes, though it really didn't hurt. Next, it was time to dress me. The room looked like a.
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