By

Susan Brown

Michael went into the bathroom and had a wee. After sprinkling everywhere except down the toilet, he dried the floor tiles with some toilet roll, mumbling to himself that it ‘wasn’t fair!’

When he finished that task he notice that he had managed to get his trousers wet.

‘Oh no!’ he exclaimed.

Once again, mumbling a bit louder that ‘it wasn’t fair,’ he took the trousers off and opened the washing basket so he could throw them in.

Then he saw something that drew his attention, nestling at the bottom the basket.

A pair of shiny satin panties.

‘Oooh! He exclaimed.

Being 10 years old and somewhat curious in nature, the boy made sure that the door was closed and took the panties out. Looking at them, he thought that he liked the silkiness, so taking off his own y fronts; he slipped them up his legs. They felt so nice. He had watched a few daytime shows where men came on dressed as women and to be honest, he laughed at them. He wasn’t laughing now, as he instantly knew that he was meant to wear women’s clothes forever.

He was a small, pretty child, bullied at school and not liked by other boys, not helped, of course by his long blond hair and gentle ways. He only played with girls and only those that didn’t go in for rough and tumble, so he was very much in touch with his gentler side.

His father had run off with his secretary two years before; so it was just, Michael, his mum and elder sister, Tricia living at home.

Just the, the door was opened and there was his horrid, bullying sister standing there, her jaw dropping as she saw what Michael was wearing.

‘MUM!’ she shouted as Michael tried to hide what he was wearing.

Mum came clomping up the stairs, anxious at the tone of her only daughter.

She too could not believe what she saw.

‘Michael why are you wearing those panties?’

‘Mummy.’ He said, not wondering why all of a sudden he had called his mother mummy instead of mum, ‘I am really a girl.’

She, as we must now call her, didn’t know why she said that, but it seemed just right.

‘I can see that dear, with your long blond hair, girlish body and those panties, you can only be a girl.’

‘Yes,’ chipped in his sister, ‘you make a lovely girl and it’s much nicer than being a nasty boy. We can go shopping, talk about girlie things and be ever so close, now.’

‘Lets get you dressed.’ Said practical Mummy.

In no time, Michelle, as she was now to be called, was dressed in one of her sisters dresses and admiring herself in the mirror. She was so obviously a girl now and no one could possibly recognise her when she went to school the next day to re enrol as a girl.

Mummy had wasted no time and had already spoken to the head mistress of the school and three psychiatrists, who all stated on the phone that it definitely sounded like Michelle was truly a girl and suggested several drugs to stop her changing into a boy, subject to a 10 minute consultation to approve the prescription and a fee of  £500.

‘First thing tomorrow, before you go to school’ said Mummy, ‘we must go to the shopping centre and get you a full wardrobe. The head mistress wants to see you at lunch time; that gives us plenty of time; mind you, we really need to go to the salon and give you a complete makeover, but that will have to wait, I suppose. We can also see the psychiatrists on the way as they have all agreed to see you urgently.

For some reason, Michele helped mummy and Tricia to make the tea then wash up. As a boy, Michael had never wanted to help or had been asked; now as a girl, it came natural to do these things with a song and a smile on her face.

After doing the chores, the three girls got undressed and watched a girlie DVD till bedtime. Michelle loved the feel of her long nightie and it made her feel very feminine as she walked up the stairs to bed.

Later, as she was in bed, holding the doll, thoughtfully loaned to her by her now angelic sister, Michelle thought how lucky she was to be a girl and looked forward to her feminine future, sure in the knowledge that no one would be able to extract the Michael out of Michelle.