I think I’m still in shock.
My earlobes are throbbing.
My ‘tackle’ feels like it’s being squashed out of existence in the vice-like grip of my control knickers.
I’ve got chicken fillets in my bra and have barely any body hair.
I can even feel the light dusting of powder on my face,
the mascara on my eyelashes and the lipstick on my lips.
I don’t think I could feel more feminine as I gently touched my hairless thigh and cautiously felt my earlobe and its new adornment.
“Simon! I told you to leave it.” my mother said.
“Sorry,” I said as I whipped my hand away from my earlobe.
