The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Beatrice Black on 01-05-2010, 07:17:23</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>01-05-2010, 07:17:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The house had stood for almost two centuries, and stood empty for most of that time. <br><br>Northern London had grown around Talbot Manor without seeming to notice it was there. <br><br>Lady Celia Talbot, daughter of the original owners and the first person born in the Manor, died in 1859. Since then the house had been rebuilt, refurbished, lived in for weeks at a time, used as the base of a historical society, given over to another charity, and then left to fall into disrepair by its owners. There were inevitably rumours that it was haunted. <br><br>There were attempts to interest the National Trust in taking it over, but all of its best features were lost over the years.<br><br>With a few exceptions, such as the full-length triptych dressing mirror Lady Celia had bought before the birth of her second son, and left in the boudoir of the unused set of chambers next to her own. After a hundred and fifty years, its golden frame and silver faces still seemed to shine as if new. <br><br>The other mirrors in the house gleamed as well in moonlight...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>01-05-2010, 09:00:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew Vernon poked his head over the high walls surrounding Talbot Manor.&nbsp; With a satisfied grin at the heavily overgrown lawn, he pulled himself up and over the wall.&nbsp; He landed in a crouch, bending his knees to absorb the impact of the fall.&nbsp; He stood and tucked a strand of his shoulder-length jet black hair back behind his ear with a sigh of irritation.&nbsp; He resisted tying it back again, what with his destination so close.&nbsp; He looked again at the massive building.&nbsp; <br><br>"People called these things houses?"&nbsp; He gave an amazed shake of his head and jogged across the thick ground cover towards the building's massive doors.&nbsp; The seventeen year-old runaway stretched out a hand to open the door, then pulled it back.&nbsp; There was no way the building could be unlocked, could it?&nbsp; Old as it was, there had to be all kinds of valuable antiques cluttering the building's room.&nbsp; No, he would have to go in a window or find some other way into the building.&nbsp; He sighed and tucked the uncooperative strand of hair back behind his ear.&nbsp; This was getting to be too much work just to win a bet.&nbsp; As it was, he was already going to have to figure out how to make enough money to fix his newly ripped T-shirt and jeans.&nbsp; As he turned to find another means of entry, something behind him clicked.&nbsp; He spun around, already jumpy from being in a place clearly marked with multiple "No Trespassing" signs.&nbsp; There was no one there, however, giving Andrew reason to exhale in relief.&nbsp; Still, it made him wonder if the door wasn't unlocked.&nbsp; It couldn't hurt to check, could it?&nbsp; He stretched out his hand to try again.&nbsp; <br><br>The door opened, and a stunned young man entered the darkened building.&nbsp; "Hello?"&nbsp; His voice echoed through the halls and off the high ceilings of the rooms they led to.&nbsp; He reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow.&nbsp; He blinked in surprise when the hand came back with a small streak of blood.&nbsp; Had he scratched himself worse than the thought crawling through the hedge?&nbsp; He walked further into the Manor, looking for a mirror.&nbsp; He eventually made it to the nearest bathroom.&nbsp; Marveling at the size of the room, he walked over to the nearest mirror and bent to examine his forehead.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>02-05-2010, 00:07:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The door creaked as he opened it, letting a shaft of moonlight and a scatter of autumn leaves from the overgrown garden into the house with him, crossing the vestibule's tiled floor before it opened onto the grand hall. Twin staircases curved up to the balcony lining the room, and every door leading away was closed. What little furniture there was had been covered in dusty sheets, most likely for years. Except for the mirrors, which gleamed in the moonlight through thin layers of dirt, illuminating his way into the house.<br><br>The mirror in the bathroom was dingy, blackened and spotted at the corners, but good enough to see in the torchlight that he had indeed scratched his scalp. Seeing it made the ache sharpen into a cutting pain. <br><br>His vision swam for a moment, and it seemed like the shadows behind him were moving, alive, closing in.<br><br>And then he heard something above him creak.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>02-05-2010, 07:19:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew spun, dark brown eyes searching the room in vain for the blurred forms that he had seen moving behind him in the mirror.&nbsp; There was nothing there of course, but that did nothing to alleviate the growing fear that was beginning to gnaw at the pit of his stomach.&nbsp; With effort, he forced the growing panic down, bringing his emotions under control.&nbsp; He turned back to the mirror, once again seeing only himself in the reflection.&nbsp; He forced himself to laugh and smile at himself in the mirror.&nbsp; He was being stupid.&nbsp; The house was empty, and the dust covering everything made it plain that it had been empty for a while.&nbsp; There was no one was coming to evict him.&nbsp; He was safe.<br><br>Then something creaked above him.&nbsp; <br><br>"Geez!"&nbsp; He spun again, looking up at the ceiling, half-expecting to hear footsteps walking towards the stairs leading from the higher floors to the one he was on.&nbsp; Some small voice in the back of his head told him it was probably just the house settling, that there was nothing to worry about.&nbsp; It didn't stop him from quickly and quietly leaving the bathroom.&nbsp; He walked quickly down the hall he had come down, back towards the Manor's Grand Hall.&nbsp; He stopped just feet from the door, his arm already stretching out to open the door back up and escape the haunted house.&nbsp; <br><br>"No."&nbsp; He forced his hand to shut, forced his arm back to his side.&nbsp; He wasn't about to run away.&nbsp; He was going to win this bet, and he was going to win enough money to buy himself some new clothes and food for a few weeks.&nbsp; Andrew Vernon was no coward, and it was going to take more than a little messed-up vision and a few creaks to scare him off!&nbsp; He took a breath and walked towards the stairs instead.&nbsp; He needed to prove to himself that there was nothing in the Manor besides him, or else he was going to be living in fear that he wasn't alone for the next few days, and that wasn't going to happen.<br><br>He took the first few steps slowly, making sure that the construction was still sturdy.&nbsp; The stairs creaked beneath his wait, but they held.&nbsp; Andrew absentmindedly trailed his hand along the dust-covered banisters on the off chance that the stairs decided that they couldn't hold his weight.&nbsp; As he reached the top of the stairs, he called out again, feeling more the fool for calling out to someone that obviously wasn't there.&nbsp; <br><br>"Hello?&nbsp; Anyone home?" 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>04-05-2010, 03:14:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The moonlight through the gaps between boards across the windows swirled with dust and flickered in the mirrors as he tested the steps. Each creaked slightly, as if no-one had walked on them for years... and it almost sounded as if someone was following him step by step as he ascended.<br><br>No-one answered his call except his own echoing, which sounded faint, soft... frightened. So timid as to seem almost girlish.<br><br>His head throbbed as he moved through the dark cut by bright shafts of moonlight, hearing the house creak around him like there were a dozen people moving silently through it, towards him.<br><br>Along the balcony was a row of doors. Bedrooms, presumably, with the occasional bathroom or line cupboard. And all firmly closed, all but one. Its windows must have been uncovered, because the pale light of the moon shone out through the open door.<br><br>A bedroom, it appeared, with bookshelves and a chest of drawers. Two connecting doors lead further in, one closed, one open.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>04-05-2010, 07:14:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sound of the stairs creaking behind him just made Andrew climb them all the faster, desperately trying to convince himself that the sounds behind him were simply the products of an overactive imagination.&nbsp; He was almost running when he made it to the top, the panic he had so recently brought under control starting to crawl up from his stomach and into his chest.&nbsp; He turned with a deep breath, ready to confront whatever it was that was following him up the stairs.&nbsp; He was only half-surprised to see that there was nothing there.&nbsp; He could have sworn that there was something behind him!&nbsp; Still, people had said the house was haunted.&nbsp; Was there really something to the rumors?<br><br>Shaking his head to clear as much of the fear from it was he could, Andrew turned and tried a few of the closed doors.&nbsp; For some reason, he couldn't get them to open.&nbsp; The light pouring from the open door looked like it would let him see someone following him.&nbsp; If there <em>was</em> someone following him.&nbsp; He tried to push the disturbing thought away and stood in the open doorway, scanning the room.&nbsp; Weird.&nbsp; The furniture wasn't something he had expected.&nbsp; After making sure that there wasn't anyone hiding in the shadows cast by the furniture, Andrew padded his way across the room to the other open door.&nbsp; After all, the other door would probably be just as hard to open as the ones out in the hallway.&nbsp; Apparently, if a door was shut in this house, it stayed shut.<br><br>Once again standing in the doorway,&nbsp; Andrew scrubbed at his forehead to keep the blood from dripping into his eyes before looking around.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>04-05-2010, 08:12:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There seemed to be less dust in this set of rooms as well, strange as it was open to the hall... <br><br>He thought he glimpsed movement ahead, but looking back he realised that it was a mirror. A full-length triptych dressing mirror with still-gleaming panes and a gilt frame, standing by one wall of a room given over to closet space and chests of drawers. A dressing room, obviously, and probably a woman's.<br><br>And then, with another creak, the bedroom door behind him closed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>04-05-2010, 19:40:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Movement from across the room made him jump back in surprise before he realized it was just a set of mirrors, attached to each other and adjusted to show whatever they were centered on from different angles.&nbsp; He stepped into the room to examine the unexpectedly pristine set of mirrors.&nbsp; What he had thought was gold was only painted on, to his disappointment.&nbsp; For a moment he had thought he might be able to get the mirror out of the house and sell it.&nbsp; He rubbed his hand over his chin speculatively, feeling the downy beard just starting to grow there.&nbsp; Antique dealers would still probably pay a decent amount for a mirror in condition this good.&nbsp; <br><br>He examined his reflections in the mirror, turning to look at each pane in turn.&nbsp; The glass didn't even seem to be as damaged as the mirror in the bathroom he had recently been in.&nbsp; Strange.&nbsp; He turned from the mirror back to the door, which he only then noticed was slowly swinging shut.&nbsp; With a muttered curse, he dove for the door.&nbsp; Something told him that if the door shut, it would be as hard to open back up as the other doors in the house.&nbsp; He was too late to stop the door from closing the last few inches, though, and he landed on his chest on the floor, his hand stretching out to the now shut door.&nbsp; He swore again and stood, pinching the fabric of his torn T-shirt and fluttering it to try and cool his chest.&nbsp; It was a nervous gesture, more to help him think than actually cool him.&nbsp; The sweat on his chest had dried much earlier, anyway.&nbsp; His head, however, was a different matter.&nbsp; <br><br>He tried the door again.<br><br>"Look, I don't know who's doing this, but it isn't funny anymore!"&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>05-05-2010, 01:08:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The doorknob did not turn - it was locked.<br><br>There was no sound from outside at all.<br><br>But from somewhere within the rooms he was now locked in there was a sound, like a gentle sigh, from all around.<br><br>As he flapped his shirt, the aged net curtains shrouding the windows stirred as well, and he felt a cool breeze drift around the room. Almost like the feeling of someone passing nearby.<br><br>Had there been a second door or an open window in the dressing room? Maybe there was a way out in there, hidden in the shadows cast by the mirrors' bending of the pale moonlight.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>05-05-2010, 08:33:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				With a sigh, Andrew stepped back from the immovable door.&nbsp; It was obviously not going to open, and even if he could, he was willing to bet the front doors were going to be about as easy to open.&nbsp; He was trapped.&nbsp; His ears twitched at the sudden sound of the wind moving through the rooms.&nbsp; It had to be the wind, even if it did sound like the house itself was sighing.&nbsp; He shook his head again, reminding himself that it was the wind, not a ghost.&nbsp; Then he felt the breeze.&nbsp; Smiling, he went back into the dressing room.&nbsp; Whoever it was had missed a door or something; that gust had to have come from somewhere.&nbsp; <br><br>He soon found himself exploring the walls of the dressing room, groping blindly in the shadows cast by the tall pieces of furniture lining the room.&nbsp; There had to be a way out of whatever was going on!&nbsp; He grimaced at the thought of ending up on some kind of reality TV show, looking like some kind of idiot as he tried to escape a "haunted house" under the control of a studio audience.&nbsp; With that image stuck in his mind, the young man continued his search for some kind of exit, some way out.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>05-05-2010, 21:04:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The breeze seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere, running through his hair and brushing at his face<br><br>As he pulled at handles, he found a drawer sliding open at his touch. Inside was a selection of gleaming silks, which seemed pristine, brand new. The breeze brushed over them as well, like a hand running across the garments, whatever they were.<br><br>And it did not just look like a hand... he felt something very like hands on him now, unseen, toying with his clothes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>05-05-2010, 23:34:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew stepped back from the open drawers, turning away from the clothes.&nbsp; The strange breeze was obviously coming from somewhere, even if it wasn't from coming from any obvious opening.&nbsp; From a lot of places, it seemed, tugging at his shirt to keep it from blowing upwards.&nbsp; It was all getting a little weird for him.&nbsp; If he didn't know better, he would think that there were invisible hands tugging at him.&nbsp; His knowledge didn't stop him for making brushing motions, attempting to ward off unseen hands.&nbsp; <br><br>Somehow he ended up facing the open drawer again, looking down at the clothing somehow untouched by time.&nbsp; He reached down to touch what appeared to be a long, expensive-looking nightgown.&nbsp; He reached down and picked it up.&nbsp; No moth holes, no wear and tear from use.&nbsp; As he looked at it, he wondered how much he could get for it from a museum.&nbsp; No, it was probably already registered with a museum somewhere.&nbsp; He would have to sell it to a private collector, or something.&nbsp; <br><br>"How did people wear stuff like this?"&nbsp; He muttered to himself.&nbsp; Despite the nightgown's filmy, flimsy appearance, it seemed like it would still be incredibly warm to be completely covered while trying to sleep.&nbsp; He turned it in his hand, examining the extra ruffles around the collar of the garment.&nbsp; The whole thing had to be lace, had to be!&nbsp; Not that he was an expert on clothing.&nbsp; He absentmindedly swatted at the unseen hands at his belt, and shuffled his feet so whatever was tugging at his shoelaces would be discouraged from continuing.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>06-05-2010, 03:52:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As he held the chemise, it floated enticingly in his hands. Soft and smooth in pearly white silk, he could imagine how good it would feel against skin.<br><br>And as he held it, the sensation of hands became all the stronger. He could feel three pairs of hands now, as surely as if they were really there. One was indeed undoing the laces of his shoes, another unfastening his belt... Some unseen force was working skilfully to undress him!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>06-05-2010, 04:44:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"What the-"&nbsp; Andrew dropped the clothing, unfolded, back into the drawer and stepped back.&nbsp; Well, tried to step back.&nbsp; Whatever was attacking his feet in the dark held tight, and he fell backwards onto the lightly dusted floor.&nbsp; For a moment, he was strangely thankful that the floor wasn't as dirty here as it was in the rest of the manor.&nbsp; The little dust that stuck to his sweating neck was bad enough.&nbsp; It was easy to imagine what it would have been like if the dust had been much thicker.<br><br>Then he was back in reality.&nbsp; Something had grabbed him and knocked him down!&nbsp; Something hit the ground a few feet away with a loud thud.&nbsp; He turned his head to see what it was, curious despite the circumstances.&nbsp; A familiar shoe sat next to a strangely familiar belt.&nbsp; Then he realized that one foot felt strangely cool.&nbsp; He looked down to see his own toes, thankfully still with socks on them.&nbsp; His other shoe, now unlaced, glided off his foot and flew to the growing pile with another thud.&nbsp; Andrew started to try to stand up, but his shirt took that moment to decide to rebel against him and fly up into his face, as though someone were trying to pull it over his head.<br><br>Andrew's startled yelp was muffled by a mouthful of T-shirt, but his legs echoed the sentiment.&nbsp; He kicked out, trying in vain to find whatever it was that was doing this to him and lash out at it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>08-05-2010, 15:30:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kicking out helped whatever it was slide his pants and boxers down and pull them off. Just as casually, his socks were pulled off as well, leaving him completely naked. And then he could clearly feel two cool, strong pairs of hands under him, sitting him down on the well-upholstered stool, softer than he expected.<br><br>More drawers slid open, and what looked like long white socks rose from one and floated through the air towards him. He felt cool hands take his ankles and lift them slightly, and start to work the socks onto his feet and roll them up his legs... all the way to his thighs.<br><br>He was now wearing a pair of white silk stockings.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>08-05-2010, 19:31:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Struggling didn't seem to do much good, as kicking out found him as easily shucked as an ear of corn.&nbsp; His hands flashed out as the last bits of his clothing landed in the heap, covering his furry nakedness from the prying eyes of whatever was doing this.&nbsp; That had to be the reason for undressing him, right?&nbsp; Some kind of weird, perverted game show wanted that showed on one of the pay-per-view channels, right?&nbsp; <br><br>Andrew barely stifled a yelp as he was bodily lifted, not by hooks or ropes, but by two sets of clearly identifiable hands.&nbsp; Still covering himself, he was carried over to a stool, somehow still soft despite the passage of time.&nbsp; He tried to stand up, only to find the invisible hands pressing down on his naked shoulders, forcing him back down onto the curiously soft stool.&nbsp; He sat there, perched, covering himself, trying to figure our how he was going to get out of a house full of invisible people.&nbsp; Invisible people, what was he saying?&nbsp; They were ghosts!<br><br>All thoughts stopped as more drawers opened and what appeared to be socks floated up and out of them.&nbsp; What, were they going to replace his old socks?&nbsp; Was that what was going on?&nbsp; He felt himself tilted back a bit as the hands grabbed his feet and lifted them to put the socks on.&nbsp; He started to tell them he could dress himself, but then realized that the socks, which he had expected to stop above his ankles, were rolling higher up his legs!&nbsp; When they stopped at his thighs, he couldn't help but be surprised.&nbsp; No one wore things like this before, and no man had ever worn socks this long.&nbsp; Well, except, like, back in the middle ages and stuff.<br><br>Andrew's eyes widened slightly at the sensation of the hands rubbing his silk-encased legs, smoothing out the creases in the material.&nbsp; The silk being smoothed against his skin felt good, really good.&nbsp; The small part of his mind that was concentrating on enjoying the sensation became slightly dominant, as the rest of his mind was either in shock or still trying to make sense of what was going on.&nbsp; For that reason, Andrew sat, passively, his hands on his junk, and gave an almost imperceptible sigh of contentment.&nbsp; He tried not to giggle as the smoothing hands reached his inner thighs.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 00:05:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As he lay there, overwhelmed by the sensations, something else glided through the air towards him. White and pink bands with soft bows at the fronts slid up his stocking-clad legs, tightening neatly around the bands of the hose to hold them in place.<br><br>The next addition looked like a pair of long white shorts, and as it rode up his legs he could see each leg was trimmed with lace and pink ribbon ties, gathering about the knee and being tied to fit. The bloomers were soft and cool, perfectly comfortable and quite... delicate.<br><br>He felt himself being sat up and his arms raised, and saw a flash of white silk as the chemise he had been holding a moment before rose to drape itself over him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 06:52:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				At first Andrew thought that the garters were just further smoothing.&nbsp; Then he felt them tightening around his thighs.&nbsp; He looked down in horror at the pink bows that now adorned his legs, which he now realized were sheathed in silk stockings.&nbsp; At first he thought the long white material were his boxers, and he gave a sigh of relief at getting some of his old clothes back.&nbsp; Then he felt them flowing up his legs, and realized that they weren't what he had hoped.&nbsp; A closer inspection of the strange lacy affair revealed even more pink ribbons being tied at his knees.&nbsp; "Oh, no."&nbsp; Was all that came from his mouth.&nbsp; It was all he could think to say, looking down at his lower half, every inch of which was now hidden behind silk, lace, and little pink bows.<br><br>He felt the pressure on his shoulders lesson, then the hands pulling and pushing him into a sitting position.&nbsp; He complied gratefully.&nbsp; Maybe they were done with him now.&nbsp; He immediately tried to swing his legs, now clad in the unfamiliar garments, down to the floor.&nbsp; Before he could stand though, the hands were at him again, this time gripping his elbows and hoisting his arms up like a parent dressing a child.&nbsp; The image made him look straight up, where he saw the lacy, white thing he had dropped into it's drawer hovering above him.&nbsp; It's target was pretty easy to guess.<br><br>"Ah, look, you don't want to do that, whoever you are!&nbsp; I mean, I'm a guy!&nbsp; I'm sweaty and gross, I haven't taken a shower in like, a week!&nbsp; I'm bleeding, even!&nbsp; It'd just get these clothes dirty!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 07:14:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In response, he felt the air swirl around him, cool and crisp as it flowed across his skin, ruffled through his hair... The pain of his cut started to fade to a dull ache even as the chemise was lowered over his head. <br><br>The dust on the floor circled around him and seemed to withdraw, as if the room were being swept by an unseen broom as he had just been washed by the air itself. <br><br>As the chemise settled over him, its frills brushing at his knees and its narrow straps fastening in bows around his forearms, the room seemed properly cleaned, and the light was warmer... He realised that candles had been lit in the corner of the room, reflecting brightly in the clean well-polished surfaces of the mirror. <br><br>Then the next drawer opened. He was brought up to his feet, arms up and out, as something like a white satin concertina (http://www.periodcorsets.com/_IMAGES/Corset_Julia.jpg) rose from the drawer and started to unfurl as it flew towards his waist and hooked shut around it. It felt rather tight already, but then he felt the silk laces behind him being lifted, readied... and pulled.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 07:45:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Instead of letting him go as he had hoped, Andrew found himself in the center of a small whirlwind.&nbsp; His eyes wide, his head darted in every possible direction, trying to figure out what was going on.&nbsp; He barely noticed as the pain from the cut on his forehead started to lessen, then recede into a dull pounding, barely noticeable among the strange new sensations coming from his lower half.&nbsp; The stockings felt oddly pleasant as they rubbed together, silk whispering against silk as he tried to squirm out of the grip of the strange, invisible hands.<br><br>Then his face was full of fabric again.&nbsp; He knew from experience not to expect his old shirt this time.&nbsp; The feeling of fabric falling across his knees told him all he needed to know about what had just happened even before he opened his eyes again.&nbsp; The feeling of silk against his skin was incredibly pleasant, and one he did his best to ignore as he tried to figure a way out of his current predicament.&nbsp; As yet more bows appeared at his forearms, Andrew came to the conclusion that he could not escape just yet.&nbsp; The ghostly hands that were both keeping him securely held and dressing him like a woman out of a history book were too strong to escape physically, and he couldn't see them to try and figure out where they were going to be.<br><br>Then the corset rose from another drawer, clearly illuminated by the recently lit candles.<br><br>"No, wait!&nbsp; I'm not a woman!&nbsp; I'm a guy!&nbsp; A guy!"<br><br>The device didn't seem to be paying attention to his protestations as it wrapped around his middle, hooking over the rest of his garments.&nbsp; He drew a deep breath, squirming even harder now to escape what he feared was coming.&nbsp; "Do you even speak English?&nbsp; You've got your genders-"&nbsp; The tightening of the corset around his waist stopped him in mid-plea, forcing the air from his lungs with the sudden force being applied to his body.&nbsp; Andrew wheezed and sagged in the grip of the invisible arms as they continued to squeeze and shape his young body into a form that suited the clothes he was wearing more.&nbsp; <br><br>As he struggled for breath, Andrew made his decision.&nbsp; He couldn't escape now, not with the ghosts concentrating on keeping him locked in this room, but maybe if he went along with them, or at least let them dress him up the way they wanted, he might have an opportunity for escape.<br><br>So he stayed limp in the invisible hands, allowing them to continue fiddling with the contraption around his middle without further resistance.&nbsp; It wasn't as though he could do much more than take shallow, chest heaving breaths at the moment, anyway.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 08:26:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The corset tightened, and tightened again, further than he thought it could, cinching his waist down to emphasise his hips, pushing his pectorals up into its cups to give him a hint of cleavage, before he felt the laces being tied. His vision swam dizzily so he could almost see movement around him as he caught his breath, his chest heaving adding to the appearance of breasts that being corseted had given him.<br><br>A pair of unseen hands tweaked and adjusted the chemise and ran down the curving lines of the corset, as the others opened another drawer and drew out more long, flowing white garments. Long circles of taffeta rustled as they slid their way around him. Layer upon layer of petticoats were tied to his constricted waist, falling to the floor, encircling him like a bell.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 08:46:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew was almost panting as he felt the laces being tied behind him.&nbsp; He wobbled on unsteady legs, leaning heavily on whatever invisible hands were nearby to help him keep from falling over.&nbsp; He blinked, trying to drive the dizziness that came with the lack of air away.&nbsp; Instead, it only disoriented him further.&nbsp; It was hard to keep himself focused on his plan of escape.&nbsp; All he wanted to do was run from the invisible hands before they did even more horrible things to him.&nbsp; He tried to look around, but stopped as soon as he saw how much harder it made it to see what was going on.&nbsp; Instead, he focused on the girlish-framed version of himself he saw in the mirror, using the single point to orient himself and keep the dizziness at bay.&nbsp; He concentrated on breathing into his chest instead of his stomach, which seemed to help.&nbsp; A little.<br><br>He saw the white petticoats flowing toward him.&nbsp; He forced away the growing dread as they rose up to his waist, tying themselves around his corseted form.&nbsp; The vision in the mirror was quite the sight to behold.&nbsp; He was standing with his arms up and out as the taffeta petticoats attached themselves to him.&nbsp; His heaving, fake cleavage was small, but noticeable enough from his vantage point.&nbsp; He couldn't resist rolling his eyes a bit and making a sarcastic comment, no matter what his plan was.<br><br>"Great.&nbsp; What's next?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 09:02:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				In answer to his question, a second top wrapped itself around his chest. Like the chemise, it was strapless and fastened around the forearms, cut low to show off his slight bosom. <br><br>A few more adjustments were made by a skilful pair of ghostly hands - close enough that he could see the bell-shapped petticoats he wore rippling, almost feel someone moving about them. <br><br>And then the wardrobe opened, and something large emerged. The hands on him moved to raise and spread his arms, as the others began to unfasten the garment, ready to drape it on him...<br><br>(http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3028/2978037165_e266d9b534.jpg)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 09:34:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew couldn't help by give a wry smile as yet another layer of cloth was applied to his constricted torso.&nbsp; He already felt a bit like an onion, wrapped, bound, and draped in clothing as he was.&nbsp; It was getting to the point where he wasn't sure he could tell where the silk ended and he began.&nbsp; He twisted a bit as he felt the petticoats rustling around.&nbsp; If he squinted and strained, he thought he could almost see whatever it was that was adjusting his outfit.&nbsp; &nbsp;It only took another moment for his vision to start to blur again, forcing him to look back at himself in the mirror.&nbsp; He had to admit, if he didn't already know what his gender was, he would have a little trouble figuring it out.&nbsp; Of course, a lump of jello would look feminine squeezed and dressed the way he was.<br><br>His eyes widened a bit in surprise as the next piece of the ensemble swept from a nearby wardrobe.&nbsp; His eyes darted to the door, unconsciously giving away what he really wanted to do.&nbsp; Still, he had a plan, and he needed to stick to it.&nbsp; It wasn't like he would make it to the door, anyway.&nbsp; Even if he wasn't already weakened by lack of oxygen, he wouldn't be able to open the door, anyway.&nbsp; It was probably still locked shut on him.&nbsp; <br><br>He tried to keep his face expressionless, imagining himself like a giant doll as the ghostly hands posed him for entry into the golden dress approaching him.&nbsp; For a bizarre moment he found himself wondering if it was even his color.&nbsp; The absurdity of the thought made him smile, which he hoped the ghosts mistook as eager anticipation.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>10-05-2010, 23:51:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the stays at the back of the gown's bodice were loosened, he felt hands slide under the petticoats he wore and work at his feet, compelling him to step into a pair of shoes. He felt laces being tied up to his ankles... and high heels altering his stance still further.<br><br>As the petticoats were smoothed down around him again, the dress was lifted over him, the skirt pulled down to settle gracefully over the bell-shaped petticoats he wore, his arms maneuvred into the off-the-shoulder puffed sleeves and fastened in with tied ribbon cuffs, the bodice draped over his corseted body and laced in.<br><br>And he realised that he had been right to wonder about the colour of the gown he now wore, as a cosmetics box unfolded and opened, and delicate powder puffs and small pots of makeup rose to float around him, and puffs and brushes held by unseen hands begin to paint his face, making his skin look fairer, pinking his cheeks, softening his jawline and emphasising his lips and eyes.<br><br>As they did, he felt something running through his hair, pulling and gently combing... and soft curls bouncing around the nape of his neck.<br><br>Finally his hands were slipped into short white silk gloves, and something was handed to him to hold. He realised that it was a closed lace fan.<br><br>And at last, he was turned back to the dressing mirror.<br><br>Reflected in the three gleaming panes was a pretty young lady with a girlish figure, black ringlets of hair framing a gently made up face, dressed more beautifully than anyone he had ever seen before.<br><br>It had taken less than three minutes for the ghosts to strip him and then dress him entirely and very convincingly as a woman of a century and a half ago.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>11-05-2010, 08:12:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew was focused on the giant dress in front of him, so he was understandably surprised when something slid underneath the petticoats tied around his waist.&nbsp; He looked down, trying in vain to see whatever it was that was going on underneath him.&nbsp; Suddenly, a hand was gripping his foot, lifting it up and into a strangely-shaped shoe.&nbsp; Being unable to see the shoe made it harder for Andrew to identify the reason for the sloping shape it seemed to have.&nbsp; It wasn't until the second one had been tied and he was trying to keep his balance that he understood what they were.&nbsp; He was in heels!&nbsp; The damn ghosts had put him in heels!&nbsp; At least they had the decency to help hold him up, but that was most-likely so they could put the gown on him.&nbsp; <br><br>Almost as if his thoughts had summoned it, the skirt of the dress drifted gently down around him, pulled and tugged until whatever ghosts were in control of it were satisfied.&nbsp; Hoping they were almost done, Andrew allowed his arms to be slipped and tied into the dress' sleeves, even as he was laced into the bodice of the gown.&nbsp; <br><br>"Is that it?&nbsp; Are you done, now?"&nbsp; He asked, apparently too early, as a box appeared from somewhere.&nbsp; It opened, releasing a small fleet of brushes, pots, and powder puffs.&nbsp; Andrew was sure his face betrayed his surprised and dismay, but only for a moment.&nbsp; As soon as the moment had passed, the puffs and brushes were dipped into the pots and began to attack his face.&nbsp; Well, in his mind it was an attack.&nbsp; There certainly wasn't any way he could stop them though, so he bore the indignity in silence.&nbsp; He was unable to contain a small whimper though, as something began to comb out his tangled hair.&nbsp; He blinked in confusion as he felt his hair bouncing against the back of his neck.&nbsp; It was longer than that.&nbsp; Had they cut his hair?&nbsp; <br><br>A cool sensation at his fingertips made him look down in time to see the gloves being slipped onto his hands, hiding his short fingernails from view.&nbsp; He sighed in disappointment.&nbsp; Those nails had been the easily-distinguished male feature on those hands.&nbsp; He looked down at the small fan pressed into his hands, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do with it.&nbsp; He wasn't warm, after all.&nbsp; It was the middle of the night!<br><br>He was still pondering this as he was turned around by gentle, yet firm hands at his wrists and shoulders.&nbsp; Still contemplating the fan, it took a ghostly finger under his chin to get him to look at his reflection in the mirror.&nbsp; He raised an eyebrow at the triptych.&nbsp; That couldn't be him.&nbsp; He took an unsure step forward, and for once the ghosts helped him get where he wanted to go, supporting each wobbling step he took in the strange shoes he was wearing.&nbsp; The swirling of the petticoats and gown didn't help much either.&nbsp; Each time they swayed their weight threatened to topple him.&nbsp; Andrew was forced to grasp the skirts and lift them slightly in front so he wouldn't step on them.&nbsp; He grimaced as he took the last few steps to the mirror.&nbsp; Damned inconvenient, this outfit.&nbsp; He would have trouble doing anything but tottering around in the thing.&nbsp; If he was going to escape, he couldn't do it fully dressed.&nbsp; Maybe while he was dressed for sleeping?&nbsp; They couldn't expect him to sleep dressed like this, could they?<br><br>Now closer to the mirror, Andrew was able to get a better look at himself.&nbsp; The most noticeable feature was his hair.&nbsp; It had always been bone-straight, and yet now it somehow had been curled without any heat or time.&nbsp; He had imagined himself as a doll to keep from giving away his plan, and the ghosts had wanted to make him into one all along.&nbsp; Suddenly, he dropped the fan, slipping from fingers encased in smooth silk.&nbsp; And invisible hand pulled it from the air, opening it and returning it to his hand before gently making sure his hand was positioned correctly to use the fan.&nbsp; Andrew watched in amazement as the ghost manipulated his hand perfectly, making it flutter the fan up and down to cause a breeze across his face.&nbsp; His face colored at the indignity of being a puppet for a dead person, but the air across his face did seem to help the dizziness he felt after being corseted.&nbsp; It took him another moment to realize that the ghostly hand was gone, that he was fanning himself on his own.&nbsp; It was hard to give up the extra air, but he did it just the same.&nbsp; He fumbled the fan shut, holding it loosely in his hand before turning around to face the door.<br><br>"Well?&nbsp; Are you guys done now?&nbsp; Can I leave the room?"&nbsp; He voice was reassuringly male, even if it was a bit breathless-sounding.&nbsp; &nbsp;
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>11-05-2010, 23:49:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The simple act of turning to the door reminded him of the corset controlling his waist, the high heels on the boots he was strapped into and the weight of rustling skirts that surrounded him, cool silk pressing gently against his stocking-clad legs as he moved. <br><br>But as he turned, and in answer to his breathless question, the door through to the bedroom opened. It did not creak, as it had done before, but simply opened wide to show the chamber beyond. Like the boudoir, it was now warmly lit by candles and all its surfaces seemed to have been cleaned and dusted.<br><br>The connecting door through to the small front room was open as well. It too was lit by flickering candles, and the small table was now covered by a deep red cloth with no trace of dust on it. A place had been set, with plates waiting for him with food. Cuts of roast beef, new potatoes, carrots and runner beans. A steaming gravy boat. A polished silver teapot and delicate china cup and saucer. Everything seemed freshly made and pristine, but in antique style. Just like the rest of this set of rooms he was trapped in.<br><br>Just like the gown he now wore.<br><br>And also on the table next to this tempting display of a meal, a small pale pink evelope sat on a silver tray.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 01:24:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The small voice at the back of his head that secretly loved being dressed in such soft, girly things tried to rise up, tried to take a moment and rub his legs and arms together, but Andrew brutally crushed that part of himself down.&nbsp; There was food on that table, and he hadn't eaten since the previous morning.&nbsp; His mouth was already salivating at the smell.&nbsp; He stepped out, lifting his skirts again and tottering uncertainly towards the table.&nbsp; The food only looked more delicious as he drew nearer, and he suddenly had the idea to fan the smell into his face.&nbsp; Surely, it couldn't hurt, could it?&nbsp; <br><br>He fumbled with the thing again, finally snapping it open and fanning himself.&nbsp; The added air helped, and the smell simply made him hungrier.&nbsp; He crossed the threshold and into the next room, fanning himself and walking on tottering legs.&nbsp; "Wow, this looks really good."&nbsp; He stopped in front of the table and looked down at the food.&nbsp; He paused, unsure of how he was supposed to sit down in this thing.&nbsp; Then there was the note.&nbsp; Should he read whatever was inside the envelope?&nbsp; What if it told him the food was poisoned?&nbsp; It was probably a good idea to at least check it.<br><br>He tried to bend down and pick it up, but was stopped by the corset.&nbsp; He sighed in frustration and tried to think of how he would get the note, much less the food.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 01:55:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His gloved hands were gently grasped by cool, unseen fingers and moved behind him, as the chair moved to accommodate him. Now holding the skirts at the back to keep them flat, he was seated on the well-upholstered chair. He could barely feel it through the layers of silk in between, but it was pleasantly soft and comforting, and a relief to no longer be standing in high heels.<br><br>The generous supper was now in easy reach even with the difficulty of reaching over in a corset, and so was the envelope.<br><br>Inside was a handwritten letter, its penmanship delicate and graceful. In the warm light of the candles and lamps it looked like the ink was barely dry.<br><br><span style="font-family: andale mono;" class="bbc_font"><em><span style="font-size: 12pt;" class="bbc_size">May 1st, 1859<br><br>My dear Arabella,<br><br>Welcome home at last. <br><br>Please forgive me for being unable to greet you in person, but the residue of your former life is such that you will not fully be part of the world in which you belong for a number of days. But fear not, you have already taken a wonderful first step towar-</span></em></span><br><br>The writing faded out, as if the pen had run out of ink, and while there were several more lines and a signature, they were unreadable.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 02:16:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew was hardly unsurprised when the hands took control of him again, pulling out the chair and seating him like he was helpless.&nbsp; He blinked for a moment, contemplating that.&nbsp; He was fairly helpless, wasn't he?&nbsp; Especially bound and dressed the way he was.&nbsp; He barely stopped himself from thanking the ghosts for helping him sit.&nbsp; After all, they were the ones who had made sure he would be unable to do anything on his own!&nbsp; Why should he thank them?<br><br>Instead, he sighed at the reduced strain on his feet and reached over for the letter.&nbsp; He picked it up, fumbling for a moment to open the thing with his hands wrapped in silk as they were.&nbsp; He finally gave up and slipped the gloves from his hands so he could open the thing, whipping out the note and opening it so he could read it.&nbsp; Instead of the "surprise" from some TV network he had been expecting, it was a short letter dated for one hundred and forty-nine years ago.&nbsp; He wrinkled his forehead in consternation.&nbsp; Who was Arabella?&nbsp; Was that supposed to be him?&nbsp; And what was this about being in the world he belonged in?&nbsp; <br><br>"My name is Andrew!"&nbsp; He shouted to no-one in particular.<br><br>Instead, he hungrily licked his lips and reached out for the food, pouring gravy liberally over the potatoes and beef.&nbsp; "Oh, man, this is gonna be so good!"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 02:37:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Removing his gloves, he found his nails were still short and unlacquered, but they did feel rather soft and sensitive, as if they had been in warm water.<br><br>His shout was met with silence. There was only the rustle of silk as he moved, and the tick of a clock somewhere in the shadows of the room. <br><br>Licking his lips, he caught a brief taste of rouge... but the smell of supper overwhelmed the perfume he wore as the gravy poured evenly over the perfectly roasted beef and potatoes. The proper knife and fork were most readily to hand... Had they moved? And when was that napkin placed over the front of the skirt he wore?<br><br>Anyway, they sliced the tender meat and gravy-softened vegetables easily, letting out the juices of the meat.<br><br>Everything tasted as good as it smelled. Though he barely noticed the first mouthfuls from hunger, the rest was succulent, rich, everything just right. The best he had eaten since running away from care months ago... and the best since a long time before that.<br><br>His stomach ceased rumbling. Now the only tightness it felt was due to the corset he wore.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 02:58:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was glad to see that the ghosts hadn't worked some unseen change on his hands while they had been inside the gloves.&nbsp; He couldn't make sense of their softness, though.&nbsp; They felt like he had just stepped out of a shower.&nbsp; The silence was getting to him.&nbsp; Why wouldn't any of these things talk to him?&nbsp; He irritatedly brushed a curl that fell into his vision away.&nbsp; He noticed with growing irritation the way that the outfit constricted his movement.&nbsp; He kicked his legs, sending the petticoats and skirt up in swirls of fabric underneath the table.<br><br>Then he smelled the food again, and remembered why he had come into the room.&nbsp; The napkin was surprising, but made sense.&nbsp; It would be terrible to get such a nice gown dirty!&nbsp; He rolled his eyes at the thought, laughing to himself at the ghosts.&nbsp; He tore into the food with gusto, eating in a particularly un-ladylike manner, taking massive mouthfuls of food, cramming everything he could past his lips before chewing and swallowing.&nbsp; He groaned at the taste of the delicious food.<br><br>Somehow, he devoured every scrap of food despite the corset tightening his figure.&nbsp; When he was done, he leaned back and sighed contentedly.&nbsp; He noticed, for the first time, that he was getting tired.&nbsp; &nbsp;The food probably had something to do with that.&nbsp; If it wasn't laced with something to make him sleepy.&nbsp; Suddenly alarmed, he forced his eyes open.&nbsp; No, he had to be awake, so that when the undressed him for sleep he could make his escape!<br><br>He was unable to keep a yawn from escaping, though it was a pitiful one since he was unable to draw a full breath.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 03:15:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Managing a last swallow, he felt the tightness of the corset around his cinched waist more acutely. <br><br>A cup of tea had been poured for him, milk and sugar discreetly added by unseen hands at the periphery of his vision.<br><br>Forcing his eyes open only reminded him of how heavy they felt... had he been made to wear that much eyeshadow? As he yawned, he felt the soft off-the-shoulder sleeves around his forearms shift as he stretched slightly. His chest rose above the corset, then felt it dig lightly into him again as he lay back. <br><br>The soft, flickering light of candles and lamps added to the dimness of the room, the warmth of the air and the heavy layers of feminine clothing he now wore.<br><br>The door to the bedroom of the suite stood open. The bed looked as new as therest of the chambers now did, and very inviting.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 03:39:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew wasn't sure how the cup was raised to his lips.&nbsp; Had he done it, or was it the ghosts, playing with him like a puppet again?&nbsp; Still he was rather thirsty.&nbsp; He sipped at the warm liquid, finding the taste strangely enjoyable.&nbsp; He sipped at the cup until the tea had cooled, then drained the whole thing.&nbsp; The warm liquid sitting on his stomach didn't help to make him any less sleepy, however.&nbsp; His eyelids drooped again, his body warm underneath the clothing he was in.&nbsp; He might have dropped off to sleep if it hadn't been for the corset making it hard to breath.&nbsp; He couldn't help but smile a bit at that.&nbsp; The thing he hated most about this outfit was the one thing that seemed to be helping him carry out his plan.<br><br>He pushed back from the table and stood, grimacing at his own awkwardness once again, and tottered towards the bedroom.&nbsp; The sooner he got out of these clothes, the sooner he could make his escape, and the sooner he could get into some boxers and jeans again.&nbsp; A small part of him was sad at that, but he would gladly trade the silks and lace for his freedom and a little disappointment.&nbsp; He yawned again as he crossed the threshold of the bedroom, almost losing his balance as he stumbled in.&nbsp; He gripped a tall bedpost to help him stand and looked around for the invisible hands that would help him out of his outfit.&nbsp; He wondered if it would take longer for them to get him out.&nbsp; The same small part of him hoped it would.&nbsp; <br><br>He looked around again.&nbsp; They couldn't very well mean for him to sleep like this, could they?&nbsp; He fanned himself nervously for a moment before realizing what he was doing.&nbsp; With a grimace, he snapped the thing shut and waited, resisting the urge to brush at his skirts.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 04:29:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Before long, the unseen hands began to brush at the skirts for him, and first a moist flannel, cake of soap and bowl of warm water were presented to him, presumably for him to wash the makeup from his face. As they were set down at the side table, he felt the ribbons tying the sleeves to his arms and then the stays on the gown being carefully unlaced, allowing him some small measure of freedom. <br><br>Once his face was washed, it felt as soft as his hands now did.<br><br>The ghostly hands took his wrists and raised them, as the gown was lifted off. The corset cover was undone and removed as well, and the petticoats started to loosen as the laces of the corset floated behind him and he felt them untying. His tiredness rose as the corset loosened, giving him room to breathe again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 05:08:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the hands at his clothing again.&nbsp; He even smiled at the bowl of warm water, soap and rag.&nbsp; "Don't mind if I do."&nbsp; He tottered over to the table where they had been set down and began to vigorously scrub his face, attacking the makeup that had been painted onto his face.&nbsp; He smiled as the water began to darken and change color from the makeup coming off his face.&nbsp; He soon had his face cleaner than it had been in years.&nbsp; He smiled and dried his face, relieved to be free of the doll's face that had been painted over his own.&nbsp; The only problem was how soft his face felt now.&nbsp; He remembered it being tougher, weathered by months of sleeping outside in inclement weather.&nbsp; Had the ghosts sneaked a moisturizer into the soap?&nbsp; Well, at least his face was clean.<br><br>Suddenly, his arms were in the air again.&nbsp; He smiled, figuring out what was about to happen next.&nbsp; The gown floated away from his body, leaving him one layer of clothing lighter.&nbsp; Another was peeled away, the second shirt...gown...thing floating away to who knew where.&nbsp; His smile grew wider as the petticoats started to loosen.&nbsp; Then the corset started to come loose.&nbsp; His eyelids drooped deeper the looser the corset got.&nbsp; Not a good sign.&nbsp; He had to stay awake to try to escape.&nbsp; He leaned against the bedpost again, his lack of sleep starting to catch up with him as he was undressed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 05:31:18</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The corset was finally unfastened and listed away, following the gown and petticoats back into the boudoir. He could now see himself in the mirror, wearing the chemise, bloomers, stockings and a pair of elegant ankle boots with two-inch high heels. Even now he looked decidedly feminine at this distance, aided by the bouncing ringlets framing his scrubbed, pink-cheeked face.<br><br>From the boudoir, two white items floating, folding as if over someone's arm. Had they been held up they would have made a classic ghost... As it was, they were draped out on the bed. A floor-length white silk nightdress, with a high collar and billowing sleeves trimmed with frills, and a matching robe to wear over it.<br><br>As they lay down, he was helped out of the boots. Like everything else here, they had fit him perfectly, as if made for him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 05:49:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew sagged as he corset was removed.&nbsp; He simply stood for a moment, still leaning on the bedpost, taking deep breaths of air.&nbsp; Oddly, each full breath of air seemed to make him more tired.&nbsp; He shook his head, trying to wake himself up.&nbsp; Instead, all he got was the feeling of curled hair bouncing off his face before going back to dangle delicately behind his head.&nbsp; He felt a moment of trepidation as more clothes floated towards him, hanging from an invisible arm.&nbsp; <br><br>He suddenly felt something at his feet again, this time untying the heeled boots on his feet.&nbsp; He sighed in relief as he stepped out of them.&nbsp; He stood for a moment, wriggling his still-stockinged toes.&nbsp; Then his curiosity got the best of him.&nbsp; He picked up the long white gown that had been laid out for him.&nbsp; He rubbed the material between his thumb and forefinger.&nbsp; Silk again.&nbsp; He looked at the other, realizing it was a robe of some kind.&nbsp; Was this what he was supposed to wear to bed?&nbsp; He blinked his tired eyes again.&nbsp; Had to stay awake.&nbsp; Still, the bed looked pretty soft.&nbsp; Maybe just a test?<br><br>He flopped backwards onto the bed, his arms sprawled out around him.&nbsp; He felt somewhat like a child who was so tired he wanted to go to bed without putting on his pajamas.&nbsp; The bed was soft.&nbsp; Soft enough that he almost fell asleep on the spot.&nbsp; Instead, he forced himself to sit up and slide down to the floor again.&nbsp; He had to stay awake...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 06:07:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was apparently left to remove his last few items himself, as the lamps began to go out and the doors to the now-unlit boudoir and sitting room closed. He knew he was truly alone again, maybe for the first time since entering the house. Just him, the bed, the nightdress and over robe, possibly meant as a dressing gown if not as a second layer. The candles in this room still flickered, and there was still a shaft of silvery moonlight through the rich, thick curtains, so he had enough to see to undress by.<br><br>And the bed, turned down and waiting, was as comfortable as it looked.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>12-05-2010, 19:32:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He was surprised when the rest of the clothes didn't fly off.&nbsp; He was more surprised when the lights started being dimmed down or going out entirely.&nbsp; As the doors started to close, he got the impression that he was alone, for once.&nbsp; Unless it was just a trick.&nbsp; He yawned again, looking briefly at the inviting-looking bed.&nbsp; He shook his head again, once again bouncing ringlets around his head.&nbsp; He still wanted to know how they had pulled that one off.&nbsp; Instead of getting into the bed the way his body wanted him too, he stripped off the long undergarments, pausing at the stockings for a moment before removing them along with the garters.&nbsp; Before he knew it he was looking around for a place to put them.&nbsp; After all, it wouldn't do for such nice clothes to get dirty, would it?&nbsp; He stopped and stared, dumbfounded, at the clothes in his hands.&nbsp; Why did he suddenly care what happened to them?<br><br>After purposefully leaving them in a pile on the floor, Andrew struggled into the long nightdress and robe.&nbsp; He was unfamiliar with the strange garments, so it took him a few extra minutes to get the things on.&nbsp; Dressed in the strange night wear, he explored the remainder of the doors open to him.&nbsp; To his disappointment, the door leading to the suite of rooms he was in was still locked.&nbsp; He still trapped, safe and sound, inside his rooms.&nbsp; He toyed with the idea of making a rope out of his bedsheets like they did in the movies, but he didn't think that would work very well.&nbsp; For one, he didn't know how to make rope.&nbsp; For the second, he remembered from looking at the building while still outside that the second story was pretty high up, higher than the sheets could reach.&nbsp; Well, unless he had a whole linen closet full of sheets.&nbsp; He sighed.&nbsp; Maybe they would unlock the doors tomorrow.&nbsp; <br><br>He shambled dejectedly into the bedroom again and pulled off the robe, hanging it from one of the tall bedposts and slipping into the soft, comfortable bed.&nbsp; He was asleep in mere moments.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>14-05-2010, 05:28:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Like everything else, the nightdress and robe fit him and seemed brand new, as if these Victorian women's clothes had been made for him that day. And like everything else except the corset and high heels, they were soft, smooth and very comfortable. The nightdress would have been enough, with its floor-length skirt, high collar and soft sleeves, but the frilled robe added more warmth.<br><br>A matching pair of white knitted bed socks and silk slippers with kitten heels sat by the edge of the bed, although the thickly carpeted floor was warm enough to allow him to pad around the suite of rooms, as long as he held the front of the nightdress away from his feet. <br><br>He confirmed that he could now only move from the bedroom to the en suite bathroom... every fixture and fitting was pristine, seemingly new but in an antique style.<br><br>The doors to the sitting room and boudoir were closed but not locked. The boudoir was entirely dark. In the sitting room there was a small covered platter of cold beef cuts and soft white bread and a butter dish, both in silver, and a cup of steamed milk. Even just the smell of it seemed enough to make his eyelids droop.<br><br>He barely felt how the nightdress slid pleasantly between his skin and the soft sheets as he slipped into bed. He hardly felt the ringlets of his hair, apart from those he could see at the edge of his vision, as his head sank into the pillow...<br><br>...<br><br>Any dreams he had, he did not remember, as he was woken by sunlight through the curtains and birdsong outside.<br><br>The platter in the sitting room was gone, replaced by a tray of halved slices of toast, another butter dish, a glass of milk...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>14-05-2010, 20:18:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the unexpected light coming in through the curtained window.&nbsp; So it hadn't been some kind of strange dream then?&nbsp; It had been real?&nbsp; A small movement of his legs and he was reminded of the silk nightdress that still covered his body.&nbsp; With a resigned sigh, he pushed back the sheets of the bed and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge.&nbsp; He looked down at his feet curiously.&nbsp; Had they always been so sensitive to cold?&nbsp; He flexed his toes in the air experimentally.&nbsp; Well, whatever the reason, they were now.&nbsp; He slid his feet into the socks waiting near the bed and looked down at the heeled slippers.&nbsp; With a shake of his head he left the slippers behind and quietly moved out into the sitting room.&nbsp; <br><br>The food wasn't as rich as last night's had been.&nbsp; He buttered a slice of toast and ate it, washing it down with the glass of milk.&nbsp; He sat for a moment, thinking.&nbsp; He rubbed an aching chest with one hand, attributing what felt like a slight swelling to the rather severe treatment it had been given the night before.&nbsp; There still had to be a way out of this, something he could do to escape from this strange house of ghosts that cross-dressed men like Victorian women.&nbsp; <br><br>Still musing, he finished off the breakfast and stood back up, heading towards the bathroom for a shower.&nbsp; When the got there, however, he was saddened to see that there was no shower on the bathtub.&nbsp; He didn't understand that a Victorian shower would not have suited the large, claw-footed tub that dominated the room.&nbsp; With a sigh of disappointment, he bent over the tub to plug the drain, preparing to draw himself a bath.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>16-05-2010, 00:39:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He felt a little unsteady on his feet as he moved around in the dress, especially as he bent over to draw the bath. Not as badly as he had while wearing the corset and more, but definitely a little unbalanced, perhaps due to the swelling behind his nipples. The corkscrewed ringlets swaying in front of his eyes did not help, of course. <br><br>Still, the pipes hummed as air passed through them and then started to run with water, hot from one tap, cold from the other. The bathroom was well furnished other than the lack of a shower. A linen closet filled with soft towels and flannels, bath salts and oils by the stand. He had never been in a bathroom nearly as well stocked.<br><br>The room started to steam up, suggesting the bath was ready.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>16-05-2010, 19:59:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew sighed as another curl flopped into his vision.&nbsp; He silently promised that it's days were numbered.&nbsp; It couldn't be natural, so when he washed his hair, whatever was keeping it in curls like that was bound to be washed out.&nbsp; He explored the room while he was waiting for the tub to fill.&nbsp; He discovered the linen closet and pulled out two white, soft towels.&nbsp; He tossed them into a small pile next to the bath where he would be able to reach them when he got out.&nbsp; Unsure of the purpose of the oils and bath salts, he left them on the stand.&nbsp; An experimental whiff of one of the bottles of oil told him all he needed to know about them, anyway.&nbsp; He wasn't about to use more girly stuff than he was forced to, no matter how curious he was about them.<br><br>He closed the door to the bathroom and stripped off the nightgown, hanging it on a nearby hook.&nbsp; He rubbed at his chest again.&nbsp; It <em>was</em> swollen.&nbsp; He hoped that they wouldn't squeeze him into a corset again today.&nbsp; Something had to be broken for that kind of swelling, didn't it?&nbsp; He wasn't sure what had to be broken to cause swelling behind each nipple, but that had to be it, didn't it?&nbsp; Putting the thought aside for the moment, Andrew stepped into the filled tub, exhaling sharply at the heat as he lowered himself into the water.&nbsp; <br><br>In a moment, he sighed and relaxed, closing his eyes and sinking below the waterline for a moment to get his hair wet.&nbsp; He floated back up in a moment, wet from head to toe now as he lounged in the deliciously warm water.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>18-05-2010, 04:47:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Perhaps it was the heat of the water and the cool of the air, but his skin felt sensitive all over. The warmth comforted his puffy nipples.<br><br>His hair soaked through and clung to his scalp, but he could still feel it curl at the ends. Rubbing his face, he found it smooth - he did not need to shave daily, so this was no surprise, but perhaps a disappointment as a five o'clock shadow would hinder efforts to pass him off as a girl again.<br><br>Stretching out and luxurating in the warm water, he was able to stay comfortably until it began to cool. <br><br>The towels were quite soft, but seemed to rub overly against his skin due to its increased sensitivity. Perhaps patting would be a better way to dry off. <br><br>And then, outside, he heard movement...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>18-05-2010, 19:55:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew sighed contentedly as he soaked, his fingers and toes starting to wrinkle from being submerged in the warm water for so long.&nbsp; He couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed a bath so much.&nbsp; Usually, he just hopped in the shower and bathed quickly.&nbsp; There was always someone else rushing him, trying to get some hot water.&nbsp; &nbsp;It was nice to be able to use as much as he wanted.&nbsp; His eyes drifted closed again, the warmth and peaceful atmosphere allowing him to take a moment for himself.<br><br>He opened his eyes when he realized the water was starting to cool.&nbsp; With a reluctant glance at the drain and faucet, Andrew stood up in the tub.&nbsp; He pushed a few wet tendrils of hair out of his face as he bent down to grab a towel, using the lip of the tub to balance himself.&nbsp; He soon had one towel spread across the floor, which he stepped onto as he exited the tub.&nbsp; The other towel he started to rub over himself before realizing that his entire body was now as sensitive as his hands, feet, and face.&nbsp; It didn't hurt, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.&nbsp; He started to pat himself dry with the towel.&nbsp; As he did so, he realized what he was doing.&nbsp; Didn't girls pat themselves down like this?&nbsp; Gritting his teeth, he finished drying himself, rubbing the towel down his legs despite the discomfort.&nbsp; <br><br>Then he heard motion outside the room.&nbsp; Had someone come to rescue him?&nbsp; Had the curator of the house maybe come by to check on something?&nbsp; Or was it the ghosts getting ready to re-feminize his body?&nbsp; Wrapping a towel around his waist, he padded over to the door and cracked it open so he could peek out into the room.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>20-05-2010, 02:51:30</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Outside, he could see no-one. But from here he could see that the bed had been stripped, the underclothes were gone from the floor, and the door to the boudoir was open.<br><br>Just then, the steam escaping from the crack in the door seemed to shift, as if there was something unseen blocking its way. Unseen - and moving. <br><br>This stopped, and he could swear he heard a swish of silk. The sound of one of the ghosts moving out of the way? Before, they had been perfectly silent...<br><br>Items floated into and about the room. More feminine undergarments, white silks and lace waiting to imprison him once more.<br><br>And the door opened wider...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 22:15:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew squeaked in surprise as the door pulled away from his loose grip on it's handle.&nbsp; He had been partly supporting himself on it, so when it moved away, he stumbled forward, pushing the door open and into the room.&nbsp; He looked up at the clothes floating around the room with a look of tired horror.&nbsp; "Oh, not again guys, please?&nbsp; I think the corset was too tight last time.&nbsp; Look, I'm swelling."&nbsp; He pointed to his chest.&nbsp; "Can't we just take it easy today?"<br><br>Despite his protestations, though, there was a strange feeling of anticipation.&nbsp; Some part of him was looking forward to being wrapped in lace and silk again, to being guided around by gentle touches on his hand and waist.&nbsp; The fact that some part of him actually enjoyed being turned into a cute little girl didn't just worry him.&nbsp; It scared him, because whatever part it was, it was growing.&nbsp; When he licked his lips, he wasn't sure if it was nerves or desire.&nbsp; He wanted to scream.<br><br>Instead he ran for the door.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 22:28:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The unseen ghosts did not answer, of course, but he could feel a breeze waft over the exposed skin of his chest...<br><br>And then it seemed to tighten as he ran, cool hands holding his arms and waist, slowing him... not quite stopping him... but the handle did not turn as he reached the door.<br><br>A chill unseen hand ran across his brow, and the rest started to move him towards the boudoir...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 22:44:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He panted as he ran, feeling the unseen weight on him as it pulled on him, slowing his rush to the door.&nbsp; But he was so close!&nbsp; He winced, feeling the hands on his chest tighten over the sensitive nipples.&nbsp; He struggled forward, despite the fact that each step felt like moving through molasses.&nbsp; He smiled in triumph when he felt the his hand on the handle.&nbsp; But the handled didn't turn.&nbsp; Andrew swore in frustration and banged on the door, trying to batter it down.<br><br>Then he was being dragged away, towards the boudoir again.&nbsp; He couldn't help the strange thrill of excitement that ran through his body, nor the horror he felt at feeling it.&nbsp; "No please, not again!&nbsp; I'm not a girl!&nbsp; I'm a guy!"&nbsp; The towel tied around his waist fell away as he tried to kick free.&nbsp; What he saw made him stop his shouting, but did nothing to stop the tears starting to well up in his eyes.&nbsp; Was he smaller?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 22:53:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Perhaps... yes. Slim, with sparse hair on his body - next to none, in fact. He would probably be able to pass for a girl in the underwear alone this time, he realised as the white silk, cotton and lace started to rise from the lingerie drawers. First the stockings began to roll up his legs...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 23:11:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A strange sensation of calm came over Andrew as he looked down at himself.&nbsp; He was in shock.&nbsp; He realized it of course, and his body was still wriggling, trying to kick free, but his mind was calm.&nbsp; He saw the underwear coming again, knew what was going to happen, but instead of feeling terror he simply felt numb.&nbsp; He was going to have to make another attempt tonight.&nbsp; It would have to be.&nbsp; His only problem was that he wasn't sure if he would want to escape by the time the sun went down. <br><br>Then the first stocking was rolled up his legs.&nbsp; Almost immediately the kicking stopped.&nbsp; Then the other leg was stockinged, and that one stopped.&nbsp; It was almost like a drug the way the clothing was affecting him this time.&nbsp; He knew it should worry him, but in his current state, it didn't.&nbsp; &nbsp; Was that his voice shouting again, almost screaming?&nbsp; It sounded higher than it should to him.&nbsp; Like he was going through some kind of reverse puberty.&nbsp; The rest of his body jerked and shook, but he was sure that it would stop as each article of clothing was strapped or wrapped to him.<br><br>Tonight.&nbsp; It would have to be tonight.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>22-05-2010, 23:37:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The garters were tied in place, ankle-high boots were fastened onto his feet, and he could see how shapely his legs looked in the stockings and high heels. Bloomers followed, an airy chemise that wafted around his silked knees, and then a pastel yellow satin corset. It was again laced tightly and securely, and was certainly not comfortable, but lacked the shock and pain of the first. His swollen chest fitted into its cups, his waist looked flatteringly slender. <br><br>A comb and brush rose behind him, and began to gently work through his moist hair, styling and curling it again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 00:44:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Still in shock, he watched as he was slipped once again into the soft, delicate bloomers.&nbsp; The calm certainty that he was going to end up back in a corset, sipping tea and eating with small delicate bites grew, a picture of a small girl under the watchful eye of a beautiful, matronly woman appearing in his mind.&nbsp; He remained unmoving, aware of the corset tightening around his waist, yet powerless to stop it.&nbsp; He muttered quietly, protesting still that he was a man, despite his shrunken genitals and slightly swollen pectorals.<br><br>His head tilted back, completely unresisting as the comb and brush pulled at his head.&nbsp; It made it difficult to work until he felt ghostly hands at the back of his head, holding it in place while his hair was styled.&nbsp; His eyes fluttered a little as curls began to fall around his face, slowly arranging themselves in accordance to the will of invisible hands.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 00:58:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Were his eyelashes always so long? Perhaps he had simply never noticed before, as the ringlets brushed their tips as they framed his fair, androgynous face.<br><br>Once it was all set, it felt quite comfortable. And then a pair of petticoats emerged from the drawer, rustling as they were fastened carefully around his constricted waist and swept down to flow about his legs to the floor, and a sleeveless corset cover was slipped over his arms.<br><br>At last, the wardrobe opened and a bell-shaped skirt and fitted jacket (http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/images/h2/h2_C.I.69.33.4a-d.jpg) emerged together, opening to entrap him again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 03:40:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				His head tilted to the side as the ghostly hands left his head.&nbsp; &nbsp;His profound shock was still in affect as the petticoats were wrapped around his waist.&nbsp; He was aware of the feeling of the taffeta brushing against his legs, but only faintly, almost like they belonged to someone else.&nbsp; Oddly, he felt a strange twitch in the bloomers.&nbsp; Once again, his lack of feeling allowed him to analyze the sensation.&nbsp; Apparently his body was beginning enjoy being cross dressed.&nbsp; What where these ghosts doing to him?&nbsp; It was almost like he was being programmed to enjoy the feeling of being dressed.<br><br>Still his mind was his own, even if his body was feeling strange.&nbsp; He could still control it, mostly.&nbsp; He flexed his fingers experimentally, making sure he could still work them.&nbsp; <br><br>Then he saw the skirt and jacket flowing towards him, opening up to devour him.&nbsp; The strange side of him, the growing side that enjoyed being dressed like a little girl, was thrilled.&nbsp; Again, he felt a little jerk from his loins.&nbsp; "What's...happening."&nbsp; He muttered, sounding dazed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 04:02:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He could feel his arousal being pushed away and hidden by layers of silk and cotton. Even this gave no sign that he was male in the mirror, as one of the ghostly maids began to apply subtle makeup to his fair face while another slipped his hands into lace gloves, hiding the last faint hints of his true self.<br><br>This done, the cosmetics box closed, the robe floated up as if being tidied away, the door opened wide and he was left alone with his feminine reflection. <br><br>And behind him, the door to the main chamber opened as well, leading out onto the balcony.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 04:53:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He gasped as he felt hands manipulating his manhood.&nbsp; He realized he should feel a sense of violation, but he still felt nothing besides a sense of physical pleasure at being adjusted, at the feeling of silk and lace brushing him.&nbsp; Compared to that, the brushes and puffs were nothing, and he felt nothing.&nbsp; Once again, he was looking at himself.&nbsp; His hand opened and closed, seeming to want to grasp something.&nbsp; Instead, he forced the grasping hand into his other, trying not to think about the fact that he looked like he had demurely clasped his hands together at his waist.<br><br>Then he saw the door opening.&nbsp; With a rush, he tried to walk towards the balcony.&nbsp; His steps are slow, but he didn't stumble as much as he had the previous evening.&nbsp; Maybe the door would open this time.&nbsp; Maybe he could escape now...but no.&nbsp; Not in this dress.&nbsp; Not in the corset.&nbsp; He couldn't run fast enough to escape the hands, obviously.&nbsp; He would have to wait until he was removed from the corset again.&nbsp; He felt a pang of regret at that, skittering across the shell of numbness like a rock across a piece of glass.&nbsp; He stopped at the balcony, resting his gloved hands on the balcony and looking down.&nbsp; He couldn't help rubbing his legs together a little, feeling his hardness rolling between them.&nbsp; His blush grew, and he gave a little pant.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>23-05-2010, 05:16:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The sensation added to the thrill of seeing himself in each reflective surface he passed, hearing the rustle of petticoats with each step. But no-one and no force moved to stop him stepping out onto the balcony. It now had lustrous red carpeting rather than grey with dust and age, and the portraits and landscapes hung in place again, their frames well polished.<br><br>Down below, he could still see clutter and disarray, modern shutters covering the windows... but on the balcony floor, it was 1859.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grimm</strong> on <strong>24-05-2010, 19:29:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Andrew looked down the stairs at the room below, then at the balcony he was standing on.&nbsp; Of course.&nbsp; It all made sense now.&nbsp; He was going insane.&nbsp; That's what was going on.&nbsp; He knew the building was as old and disgusting on the top floor as it was on the bottom.&nbsp; He probably wasn't even wearing the clothes he thought he was.&nbsp; He could probably leave any time he wanted to.&nbsp; With that thought firmly in mind, he tried to step out onto the stairs.&nbsp; Then the reality of wearing heels hit him again.&nbsp; He wobbled uncertainly at the edge, and then stepped back from the precipice.&nbsp; If he was crazy, he could leave any time he wanted to.&nbsp; He would try to escape again tonight, when his mind wasn't hampered by imaginary heels.<br><br>Instead he turned back around and walked into what he was starting to think of as his rooms.&nbsp; No doubt the ghosts wanted to do something else to him.&nbsp; He winced a little, thinking of his unpierced ears.&nbsp; Well, they hadn't seemed to have any use for jewelry as far as he was concerned so far.&nbsp; Maybe he was safe.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: The Dressing Mirror (Grimm and Beatrice Black)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Beatrice Black</strong> on <strong>25-05-2010, 02:57:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Were they not pierced? What was that slight weight on his earlobes?<br><br>Turning, he could see some of the portraits clearly. A distinguished man in his forties, with greying brown hair and beard. A woman with fair skin and black hair, perhaps around thirty when the portrait was painted, dressed in an extravagant emerald satin gown. A young man with his father's nose and his mother's hair. Another, recognisably a brother, perhaps two years younger. And no sign of a girl...<br><br>Inside the sitting room, the shutters were open and the window slid up, allowing air in. No sound of traffic outside, just quiet birdsong. A ray of warming sunshine shone in, lighting up a bookshelf well stocked with small, gilt-titled hardbacks. Some titles he recognised, such as Austen and the Romantic poets, but others were unfamiliar, like The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte, and a new-looking book called Phantastes: A Faerie Romance for Men and Women, by George MacDonald.<br><br>Nothing moved of its own accord... it seemed he was alone for now.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>