Becoming Karen - 3

(Copyright 2012)

Chapter Three: Love Affair
He spent virtually all of his free time with Angela in the few weeks remaining before he was to go off to the state university. Often she picked him up as he ended work about 10 p.m., sometimes merely to enjoy a late night cappuccino together at a coffee house and sometimes to drive to a park where they’d site for a while in the car, talking, hugging and kissing. Angela’s hands always found their way to his slender arms, which she loved to massage, squeezing the soft flesh.

She called him “dear girl” or “sweet girl friend” as they kissed, and Kenny softened in her arms, realizing he relished the words. After several nights with Angela, he finally admitted how he spent about four weeks of the six-week Shakespeare summer camp session as “Karen,” living fulltime as a girl to prepare for the part of Ophelia in Hamlet.

“Oh you must have been so pretty, dear girl,” Angela said.

“Everybody said I was,” he admitted, feeling himself grow flush.

“Karen, Karen, Karen,” the girl mused. “That’s a lovely name for a lovely girl.”

“I liked it,” he giggled, remembering how natural he felt to be among the girls in the camp. Even as he sat in Angela’s car, snuggled close to her angular body with his head resting on her small, firm breasts, his thoughts flooded to images of Mark, his muscular arms, hard chest and firm passionate lips.

He loved how both Angela and Mark treated him with gentleness, how they longingly caressed his body, making him feel protected in their strong arms. He was the girl friend of both of them, he realized.

“Karen, you must dress up for me darling,” she said, as she finished smothering him with kisses.

“I don’t have any real girl clothes anymore, except for a few underthings,” he said. “Most of the dresses and skirts I borrowed from the girls in the camp.”

“I think I’ve got some things that’ll fit you. They might be a little big for you, but not much. We’re about the same height.”

Kenny smiled. “I have been thinking about buying some dresses or other stuff for myself,” he said.

“Oh I’d love to help you do that,” she said.

“Really, you like shopping?” Kenny asked. He found it strange coming from this athletic girl who rarely seemed to care about fashions. Yet, he realized Angela’s clothes, while simple, were always well-matched and in good taste.

“I’d love to shop with you, Karen. You’re so lovely.”

The two embraced each other, lost in each other’s arms, only to be interrupted by a car moving alongside them, stopping and hearing a rap on the window with a light shining in on them.

“You two 18 years old?” the police officer asked.

“Yes,” they both said in unison.

“OK, girls, you should know the park is closed now,” he ordered. “We don’t want this to be a hangout for girls like you, so move on. Next time, you’ll be arrested, and tell your queer friends to stay away after hours.”

The officer got in his squad and moved on, and they both sat there, the mood shattered by the rude interruption.

“He thought we were lesbians,” Angela said, beginning to laugh.

Like the girl he was, Kenny giggled, too.

*****
“That was nice of him to let us off so easily,” Kenny said, as Angela started the car and began to leave the parking spot.

Angela grunted, saying bluntly: “The damned Nazi.”

“Oh?”

“What do you think? He let us off because he was a nice guy? No way, he’s a lazy copper and he just didn’t want the hassle of writing us up,” she said, placing one hand on Kenny bare thigh, her fingers gently caressing.

“I suppose so.”

“Besides, after what he said to us, calling us ‘queers,’ that smacks of discrimination, and that’s supposed to be against the Police Chief’s new policies. Our new chief has claimed he’s trying to make the officers more sensitive, now, and we could have leveled a complaint against him.”

“I never thought of that,” Kenny said. “But wouldn’t have looked weird if I been arrested as a ‘lezzie’ when I’m really a boy.”

“Oh Karen, it’s so hard to think of you as a boy, and you can see how the copper was fooled,” she said, squeezing his thigh as she turned onto the main highway to head home.

*****
Several days later, the Kenny and Angela played tennis again at Lakeland Park, which had perhaps the best public courts in the city; they were always well-maintained and required reservations because of the demand on their use. Kenny again dressed as he always did for tennis, in an all-white outfit with shorts that rode high on his thighs and a polo shirt with short sleeves. He wore white ankle socks and shoes.

“Hi Hank,” Angela said, as they approached the desk of the man who operated the courts.

“Angela, nice seeing you again,” Hank said. He was a slim man with a weather-beaten face and for years had been the area’s top tennis player. He still retained the athletic body of his earlier years. “How’s college treating you?”

“Fine, Hank, even played a little tennis,” she said.

“Good, and you girls can use court number 8 on the end,” he said, smiling.

“Oh yes, this is my friend, Karen,” she said, smiling.

Kenny blushed, but recovered nicely to mumble, “nice meeting you.”

As they put their tennis bags down at Court No. 8, Kenny said, “Why did you have to say I was Karen?”

Angela, grabbing a new can of balls from her bag, looked up, “Well, he already thought you were a girl.”

The first set was a disaster for Kenny, losing 6-1. He double-faulted time and again, largely because he was trying vainly to swing hard to put steam into his serves. As he pushed his swing, the ball would be long, or power into the net. Sometimes it went wide, too.

“I’m no competition for you, Angela,” he said, as they switched sides to begin the second set.

As they completed the set, Kenny noticed Hank had joined them, watching the two play the game.

“Let me give your friend here a pointer, if you all don’t mind,” he said.

“No go ahead, Hank,” Angela said.

He approached Kenny, and asked him for his racket.

“Now honey, you know what your problem is?” he began.

“No, what?”

“You’re trying too hard, and swinging too hard,” he said. “First of all, I can see you’re not a very strong girl, not as strong as Angela, so you can’t expect to overpower her. You must outsmart her.”

Kenny nodded.

“And, dear, oh what is your name?” Hank asked.

“Ah . . . ah . . . Karen.”

“You’re a shy one I can see. Anyway you need to be precise on your serves, then speed won’t be as much a factor. Swing easy and make solid contact and you’ll do fine.”

Hank demonstrated a few shots and then handed the racket to Kenny, whose first attempts were feeble, but with a few more pointers soon was shooting the ball more accurately.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, finally. “Now see if you can beat out Angela.”

“Thanks,” yelled Angela in mock sarcasm, as Hank left them to start Set. No. 2.

*****
Hank’s tennis strategy paid off for Kenny as he was able to dink some of his hits just out of the reach of Angela, somewhat offsetting her superior athleticism. Still, his problems continued with his serves, which were more precise but usually easily returned with a muscular blast from Angela that more often than not virtually knocked Kenny back on his heels, rarely able to hit back a decent return. Still he kept the match close, eventually losing 6 — 4.

“Now you’re supposed to leap the net and congratulate your opponent,” Angela said with a testing smile.

“Are you kidding,” he panted. “I’m lucky I can walk that far now. You’ve worn me out.”

“Well at least come give the winner a hug.”

“Oh, I’m so sweaty,” he said, as the two approached.

“Me too,” she said, engulfing him with a big hug.

He buried his face into the crotch of her neck and shoulders, her sour, salty scent unexpectedly delicious and his lips tasting the beads of sweet on her glistening tan body. The mixture of her feminine smell with the mustiness of her sweating body was strangely arousing and he felt his penis suddenly harden.

“You smell so good, Karen,” she said, again reverting to his feminine name.

Their two bodies seemed cemented for an eternity, finally separating when they heard one of the players at an adjoining court yell out: “Hey you two girls save it for the bedroom.”

“Guess we went a bit too far,” Angela said, then turning to the other player, yelling back, “Sorry sir, we’re leaving now.”

Kenny looked at the other player, an older man, trim with long graying hair, who was playing a similar aged man. Both, he had noticed, were accomplished players who had a competitive game going. They both waved amiably as Angela led Kenny off the courts.

“They had a good idea, Karen,” she said. “Mom’s gone all day from the house. How about coming over and you can shower there and maybe we might find sometime for the bedroom.”

What was going on here? Kenny wondered where this relationship was going, and frankly he was frightened. He had never with a girl in a sexual relationship, except for the brief time he and Angela had been together. Even though he was now 18, he was a virgin and really wasn’t sure how to behave with a girl. Besides with his puny, largely hairless body and undersized manhood, he was embarrassed to show his body.

“No,” he said after a bit of hesitation. “I have to be at work at 4:30 tonight.”

Angela scowled. “You got plenty of time. It’s not even noon yet.”

“But I don’t have any clothes to change into,” he said finding another excuse.

“I got something that’ll fit you, I sure,” she said, as they entered her car.

Kenny nodded, easily agreeing to Angela’s suggestion. She was so persuasive and, besides, she seemed to understand him so well. He knew she seemed to enjoy his company, particularly when she treated him like a girl. In fact, she seemed uninterested in him as a boy.

*****
Angela lived in a moderate-sized ranch home in a neighborhood of similar homes, interrupted by an occasional tri-level or modest colonial home. The lawns were trim, dotted by evergreens and flower beds surrounded by railroad ties or stacked designer bricks. Concrete driveways lead usually to a two-car garage tucked in the back; while most were devoid of any sign of life during the midday in this tract of home occupied by supervisors from the local factories, accountants, teachers, police and firefighters, there were some homes where child toys were scattered about the property or a bike standing in the driveway or an occasional pickup truck near the garage.

“This is a nice neighborhood,” Kenny volunteered as they drove the block to the house.

“Boring,” she said.

“I suppose so, but boring also seems peaceful. We live in that apartment building you know, and it seems like there’s always some drama going on there,” he said.

Angela scowled, finally saying, “I just don’t belong here.”

He looked at the girl, realizing how much alike the two actually were. Kenny never felt comfortable in school, for instance, particularly with boys and shied away from any association with other kids, easily getting a reputation of being a loner. Angela, too, being taller for a girl, a bit gawky and geeky and seeming not to be “one of the girls.” She obviously had some natural athletic abilities; yet, she joined none of the girl sports teams. They both seemed to have strong feelings for the environment, against war and in support of issues that assisted the poor and unfortunate. It was through politics — and Democrats — that they found their first bonding, a bond that now threatened to grow into mutual sexual desire.

“Let’s shower together,” Angela suggested when they got to her home.

“Do you think we should?” he asked, truly embarrassed by the proposal.

“It’ll save on water,” she giggled impishly.

“I’ve never done that,” he blushed. “In fact, I’ve never seen a girl naked before.”

Kenny wasn’t sure he really wanted to see her naked. It seemed sordid, he thought. Also he was reluctant to show himself and his pathetic body to a girl. The showers after gym class, when he hurried to get in and out and covered to hide his pathetic body from the teases and taunts of other boys, had been the only instances when he exposed himself.

“You’re such a prude,” she said. “Come on Karen, my dear. We’ll have fun soaping each other up.”

Kenny was dazzled when he saw Angela before him as they entered the bathroom, both naked, to begin the shower. Except for her breasts, which though small, stood firm with pink protruding nipples surrounded by wide areoles, she had the body of a slender, sinewy boy. Muscle tone stood out on her arms and legs, her thighs particularly lined with hard tendons, along with shapely calves. He was fascinated by the patch of reddish hair that formed at her crotch.

He looked at his own body in the mirror, now ashamed to be showing how soft and undefined his shoulders and arms were. His biceps were flat and fleshy and his shoulders were smooth and slender. He looked down to see his smallish penis, growing hard between his soft, white thighs. The hair surrounding the tiny piece of manhood was light, blondish.

“You’re beautiful, Karen,” Angela said, grabbing his hand and leading him to step into the tub. She closed the curtain, and turned on the faucet and the water cascaded upon both of them, a warm steady stream of water already set at the proper temperature since Angela had previously run the water to get it up to bearable warmth.

“Let me soap you up first,” she said. “I can’t wait to get my hands on your body.”

Taking a pink plastic bottle in her hand, she shook out pink cream into her hand, and began applying it to Kenny’s, starting with the shoulders. She massaged it into his arms, kneading the soft flesh, raising the arm and washing the pit.

“Darling,” she said, pulling him close to her, kissing Kenny, as she massaged his back. “You must shave under the arms. You don’t have lots of hair there, but girls shave all of it off.”

He felt her hands massage his chest, massaging his soft breasts, which he had realized actually seemed to show a bit in a tight tee-shirt. Her hands found his bottom, a fleshy butt and the soft inner thighs. Finally they washed his penis and balls, but only gently playing with them as she applied the pink soaps. He was astonished to realize that she paid little attention to his genitals, almost as if it were repellent to her.

“You have such pretty legs, too, Karen,” Angela said as she completed the process.

Kenny smelled the strong perfume of the soap, but when it came his turn to apply soap to her, she put the pink bottle aside and grabbed a men’s body wash bottle, handing it to Kenny to be used on her.

Sensing that he must smell girlish now, he looked in puzzlement to her, wondering why she wanted to use a male soap.

“Go ahead and use this,” she said. “I don’t like those girly soaps.”

The water continued to fall down his body and her, and he shook his head. “But, but, you used the girly stuff on me?”

“You’re a girl,” she said quickly.

He wanted to protest, but realized this tall, strong young woman was fulfilling a fantasy and he hated to ruin it. Besides, right now, he felt totally feminine.

There was no fat on Angela’s body; it was as firm and muscular as any Olympic athlete’s. She moved gracefully as he applied the body wash. He began washing her pussy area, intrigued by the curly red hair that covered it, but hesitated, shy about how far to go.

“That’s all right my darling,” she said soothingly. “Work the soap in good and you can finger me as you do it.”

He did as she commanded, and she began to shake as his finger reached the vagina, cautiously. She began to pant pressing her body outward, and pushing his head down into the bristly hair. She spread her legs apart and he placed his lips onto the lips of the vagina, as she pressed harder and her whole body moved rhythmically. The exotic taste filled his senses and his penis hardened and his body began shaking in unison with hers.

The musky, salt taste, mixed with soap intoxicated him and he plunged his tongue into the hole, relishing the situation.

Suddenly she let out a scream, followed by a prolonged yowl, and he tasted new fluids that entered his mouth.

“Oh darling, that was so great,” Angela said.

So astonished was he by the turn of events that he sat back on the side of the tub, panting, looking up at Angela who had a sweet smile on her face.

“I love you, Karen,” Angela said, sitting down next to him on the side of the tub as the water continued to flow down their bodies.

*****
“Now my darling Karen,” she said, “We can’t put a pretty girl like you back in those drab boy clothes, can we?’

Kenny followed Angela into her bedroom; both were completely nude, except for the towel he had wrapped around his body covering his breasts, as he had seen so many girls do after leaving the shower. He looked at the boyish body on the girl as she led the way, watching the muscles in her calves move as she strode ahead and feeling so weak and feminine in her wake.

They entered Angela’s bedroom, and he was surprised to see a wall plastered with photos of perhaps a half dozen famous women athletes, often showing their muscular arms and legs as they performed the feats recorded in the photos. He saw a bow standing in the corner, with a trophy that listed Angela Trotter as “Champion. Junior Division. State Bow and Arrow Competition.”

“Wow, you’re a bow shooter?” he asked.

She turned and smiled at him. “Yes, I love it. Would you like to try it sometime?”

“Nah,” he said, quickly, realizing he’d have trouble pulling the bow.

“Oh they have competition for girls,” she volunteered.

He blushed.

“Here’s what you can wear now,” she said, producing a summer sun dress from her closet. “I wore this a couple of years ago when I was about your size.”

It was obvious that Angela had outgrown such a dress; her figure, while still slim, had broadened in the shoulders and hips. Still, she had not gained much height, and now she was just a shade taller than Kenny.

Angela remained nude as she rifled her dresser, producing light blue satiny panties with lace trim and a matching bra. Still nude, she helped him on with both of them, filling the cups of the bra with a pair of rolled up stockings. He watched her firm arms with admiration as she dressed him, soon reflecting on how her strength compared with that of Mark. What was this fascination of Kenny’s that he was so enthralled with muscular firmness of the only two persons who had ever hugged him and expressed love? He doubted he’d ever develop the strength of either of them, and indeed, realized he didn’t desire that. He felt comfortable being weak and soft and girlish.

After she finished helping put on the dress, Angela found a pair of flats which Kenny stepped into.

“Now sit down, Karen,” Angela commanded, directing Kenny to a computer chair she had pulled out from a desk.

He did as she commanded, and sat patiently with his hands on his laps, as she brushed his hair out, leaving it flow into a bob that reached the nape of his neck. Across his forehead, she brushed in a bang.

She stepped back now, viewing her work and Kenny looked up at her, seeing her glistening body in front of him, awaiting her next command.

“Yes, indeed, I can see why they chose you to play Ophelia, my dear Karen. You’re so lovely, and we don’t even need makeup on your face. It’s so naturally pretty.”

She went to him, kissing him on his lips and placing her hand on his slender bicep, squeezing it gently but with firmness as if to remind him of her superior strength and his own physical puniness.

“Now, Karen, you may leave me now and wait in the living room,” she said.

“OK, what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry I want to surprise you,” she said. “I won’t be long.”

*****
Kenny was enthralled with what he saw as he looked into a full-length mirror that Angela had mounted at the end of a hallway in the apartment. Looking at himself, he saw the girl in the mirror, lovely wisp of femininity, so dainty. The light yellow dress, with its spaghetti straps, exposed the girl’s smooth, white shoulders and slender arms. The girl’s legs, the bare skin showing from mid-thigh to the tops of her ballet-like shoes, were slender with but a slight showing of curvature, indicating the softness of young girlhood.

He knew the girl was himself, but it shocked him to realize that the person in the mirror could only be female. What did this all mean, he wondered?

He was lost in this reverie when he heard Angela’s bedroom door open, and he was shocked to see a young man enter the mirror picture.

“Admiring yourself, Karen?” came the voice from the other person, a hard voice with a masculine inflection.

Kenny turned, blushing profusely, realizing that the mannish voice came from Angela, who was wearing denim boy shorts and a navy blue boy’s muscle shirt, her short hair combed with a part along the left side in a male style.

“Meet Angelo,” said Angela, flexing her arm muscles to express her new macho image. “What do you think, Karen?”

Kenny was speechless for a minute, awed at the vision of manliness before his eyes, finally uttering a phrase. “My God, Angela, you’re a b-b-boy . . .”

“It’s Angelo now, and remember you’re Karen.”

“But . . .”

“My sweet, sweet Karen. It’s still just me, your friend Angela, but I really am ‘butch’ when with other girls. And I so love being with a sweet ‘femme,’ just like you.”

Kenny nodded, realizing that Angela was indeed a lesbian and liked such relationships, explaining how enticed she was by Kenny’s effeminate nature. He fulfilled Angela’s desire for a same-sex relationship with a soft, dainty girl.

“Come, let’s get some lunch,” Angela said, grabbing his arm and leading him to the living room. “There’s a nice café nearby where we can have something.”

“But I can’t go out like this,” he said.

“Oh sure, you can. Nobody will see you as anything but as my girl friend,” she said. “And in this place, people don’t care who you are.”

“Girl Time” turned out to be a coffee shop located about a mile away, along a strip of bars and restaurants that even Kenny — in his naíveté about sexual matters — understood to be known hangouts for gays. This particular shop in particular appeared to be serving principally women; there were a few male-appearing persons there, looking much like Angela, but they on second look must also be female.

It seemed the staff and many of the patrons recognized Angela, some even coming over to say ‘Hi.” At first, Kenny was ill at ease as Angela introduced him as “Karen, my friend from high school.” Kenny nodded shyly to all of the introductions, and often was rewarded with comments like, “Angela’s lucky to have such a sweet girl friend like you,” “What a lovely, girl!” and “If you tire of Angela, call me dear.”

Angela’s friends were all females, ranging from those appearing to be “butch,” to lovely feminine types.

One of them inquired of Angela, “Robbing the cradle are you?”

“No, Karen’s 18,” Angela responded.

“Well Karen, you are so lovely, I bet half the girls in this place could eat you up,” the interloper said, departing the table.

“I guess you do look like a middle-school girl,” Angela said, when the two were alone again. “I’m sorry about that.”

“I kinda thought that, too, as I looked at myself in the mirror earlier,” Kenny confessed. “You’re friends seem very nice.”

“Some are, some aren’t,” she said. “This can be a rough crowd, but I’ve made some nice friends here.”

By the time they finished their lattes and sweets, Kenny felt more comfortable at this restaurant. No one questioned his gender, all readily accepting him as “Karen.”

“I need to get back and change,” he said as the meal ended. “I have to get to work, you know.”

“It’s too bad,” Angela said. “You should always be Karen, really you should. You’re a natural girl.”

As they drove back, Kenny pondered those last words: “You’re a natural girl.” Yes, he concluded. Angela is right: I am a “natural girl.”