Gene or Jean? - Part I.
By Pentatonic

Chapter 1 - It All Started in the Bathroom.

My name is Eugene, ‘Gene’ for short. I have three sisters who, when it all started, were 19 and 17, and 13. I was 15. I am the only boy. Mom and Dad must have had some kind of routine, since all of our birthdays are in August. I always view the Thanksgiving turkey with some suspicion - you do the math; how many months from Thanksgiving to August.

There are never enough bathrooms or hot water in a house occupied by three teenaged girls. Accordingly, I plan my bathroom visits with care around their expected bathroom use. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

This time it didn’t. I was getting ready for bed and was in the shower when I heard the bathroom door open. I should have locked it, I thought. “Hey, I’m in the shower,” I shouted.

“That’s Okay,” my oldest sister Nancy, responded. “I won’t take too long.” In my family “not too long” is not only inexact but also relative,

“Yeah, but I’m through with my shower, and I want to get out and go to bed,” I said.

“Who’s stopping you?” was her rejoinder. “Just remember I’ve seen you naked lots of times.”

“But that was many years ago,” I protested.

“So?

“So get out.” I commanded. It didn’t work. I thought, what the heck, turned off the water, pulled back the shower curtain, and climbed out, stark naked and dripping wet. I quickly grabbed a towel, but not fast enough to prevent Nancy from seeing me in all of my glory.

She was leaning over the sink, doing something with her eyebrows. However, she was doing that while wearing my robe.

“My robe,” I sputtered. Nancy ignored me. “I need it,” I said. “How would you like it if I used your robe?”

“You’re welcome to it any time you want, it’s hanging on my closet door with my nightgown,” she said with a snicker. “In fact, maybe you should. You’d look cute in it.” Her robe was a filmy thing that was sort of see through, that she wore over her nightgown.

‘If that’s the way you want it, so be it.’ I thought, and holding my towel I headed for the bathroom door.

“Your towel should be tucked in around your armpits,” she said, “to cover your boobs.”

“But I don’t have any boobs,” I asserted.

My sister just chuckled. “But don’t you wish you did?”

On my way to my room, I passed Nancy’s bedroom. The door was open, and hanging from her closet door was the aforesaid robe and the nightgown that goes with it. A wicked impulse, driven from her comments about her robe, drove me into her room. I picked up her robe and nightgown. The felt so smooth and soft. My wicked impulse also drove me to put both on. Wow, what a reaction. I now knew why my sisters liked these kind of robes and nightgowns. Suitably, or maybe unsuitably, attired, I went back into the bathroom. My sister was still there.

I really had to use the toilet. “I’ve got to pee,” I announced.

“No one’s stopping you,” she answered. So I stood in front of the toilet, and started to pull up the hem of the nightgown. “No!” she loudly asserted, “If you’re going to wear my nightgown, you have to sit while you pee.”

So I sat down on the toilet,

“You know, you look really cute in my nightgown and peignoir,” Nancy exclaimed, “You’re welcome to wear the nightgown to bed. Just don’t get any stains on it.”

I just gave her a dirty look. As chance would have it, my other sisters, Emma and Gloria, were passing the bathroom at that time and heard the exchange between Nancy and me. Uninvited, they entered the bathroom. It was a tight fit and the door could not be closed.

“My, oh my,” Emma exclaimed, “doesn’t that look nice!”

There wasn’t enough room for me to stand, so I stayed sitting on the toilet with the nightgown draped around me. “He’s going to wear the nightgown to bed tonight,” Nancy said, “so I’ll just keep his robe.”

“Wait just a blinking minute,” I complained, “I’m not wearing this to bed, and I want my robe back. Anyway, I have my pajamas in my room, so you can have this stupid nightgown and robe back in a minute.”

“Gloria,” Nancy said, “you know what to do,”

Gloria chuckled and quickly exited the bathroom. I shortly found out that she had taken and hidden all of my pajamas. When this was disclosed, Emma said with a smirk on her face, “Well, Gene, I guess that you don’t have a choice now, Enjoy your night in a nightgown,” and with this parting shot all of my sisters exited the bathroom, chuckling. I was so flustered that I didn’t contemplate any alternatives to my pajamas.

With the bathroom finally all to myself, I turned to look in the mirror. The nightgown had narrow lace shoulder straps, with lace trim at the neckline and hem. The rest of it was smooth satin like material. It actually didn’t look too bad, except for my lack of boobs. I then went back to my room and climbed into bed.

Chapter 2 - The Morning After.

The next day was a Saturday, so no one had to get up early. My parents were out of town for the weekend, and had put Nancy in charge of the household, which I thought was like having Dracula guarding the blood bank. When I got out of bed, I could feel the hem of the nightgown swish around my calves, which was not a bad feeling. Not having my own robe, I put on Nancy’s peignoir.

When I went downstairs, all of my sisters were in the kitchen. Nancy was fixing breakfast, still wearing my robe. “I want my robe back, NOW!” I demanded.

Nancy chuckled, “But I need it.” she said.

I turned to Gloria. “Where are my pajamas?”

She chuckled. “Somewhere.” she said.

I was really aggravated. “I’m going upstairs to get dressed,” I declared.

“If you do, you’re not getting your robe or pajamas back,” Emma declared.

Faced with the evil cabal of my sisters, I plopped down in a chair at the table. My action provoked a response from Emma, “That’s not how a lady sits down in a chair. First, you smooth out the back of your nightgown under you and then sit gently on the front of the chair with your back straight.”

“But I’m not a lady,” I complained.

“But with a little help you could look like one,” Emma responded. Her comment met with a murmur of approval from my other sisters.

Suddenly there was a flash of light. It was Gloria with a camera. “This will look great on the bulletin board at school,” she commented.

Emma stood behind me and began to fiddle with my hair. I have honey blond hair that comes down to my shoulders. “Maybe a french twist,” she said.

Gloria left the room and returned with a comb and hair brush, which Emma used on my hair. “You really should use a conditioner,” Emma commented, “it would make your hair more attractive.”

“I don’t want attractive hair,” I complained. At this time, I vowed to myself to get a haircut today.

“Sit still,” Emma commanded, “or those photos will be emailed to all of your friends, including Sandy,” Sandy was a girl I really liked.

Faced with unfavorable consequences, I sat still and let Emma do what she would with my hair. After a few minutes, she handed me a mirror, and said, “It’s a french twist. How do you like it”

“I don’t,” I responded.

“But it looks so cute,” Gloria said.

I had enough. “When Mom and Dad come home, they’re going to hear about this,” I threatened .

“And if we tell them that we caught you wearing Nancy’s nightgown and peignoir?” Emma responded.

“You wouldn’t lie to them, would you?” I rejoined.

“Well, we caught you, in a sense, and you are wearing Nancy’s nightgown and Peignoir, so it wouldn’t be a total lie, just a little bending of the truth,” Emma argued.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun,” I announced, “now let me get dressed.”

“No, we’re not finished yet,” Emma said, and with that she put a box of makeup on the table.

When I saw it and recognized what it was and it’s intended use, I shouted, “No way!”

The camera flashed again. I could see blackmail in the works. Emma told me to turn my head, and began to apply some mascara and eye shadow. Then she did something with an eyebrow pencil and crowned it all by applying some lip color. Another flash from the camera. Emma handed me the mirror to let me see the finished product.

I had to admit to myself, that I didn’t look bad. “Okay, now you’ve had your fun, I want to take off this stupid nightgown,” I announced.

“Okay,” Nancy said, “but on our terms, not yours. Let’s go up to my room.”

When we were all in her room, Nancy handed me a pair of pink panties with lace trim and a little rose in the front. “Put these on, and you can take off the nightgown,” she said. So I put on the panties and took off the nightgown. Emma, who was behind me, put a bra around my chest and fastened it. She rolled up some pantyhose which she put in the cups of the bra. This was followed with a half slip, a short denim skirt, and a sleeveless blouse. Everything more or less fit, because Nancy and I are about the same size. Nancy then produced a pair of shoes which almost fit.

“Don’t even think about changing clothes,” Emma said while making a menacing gesture with the camera, “Go downstairs and wait in the living room.” With that, we went downstairs

One by one my sisters left to get dressed. When we all reassembled in the living room, I noted that they were all wearing jeans. “How come I’m the only one wearing a skirt?” I questioned.

“To let you show off your legs,” was the response, “and you do have good looking legs.”

“How long am I going to have to wear these stupid clothes,” I complained.

“As long as we want you to,” Emma responded.

“With you three, that could be all day,” I complained.

“All day? Now that’s a great idea, Gene,” Nancy said, “thank you for the suggestion.”

“NO,” I moaned, but by now I was getting used to the skirt and blouse. In fact, I liked the way they felt, not that I would ever admit it to the evil cabal.

Chapter 3 - Girl lessons.

My sisters then decided that I had to learn how to walk and act like a girl, a process which dragged into the afternoon, by which time I was actually beginning to like wearing a skirt. However I lived with a fear that someone would drop by and see me like this. Then came something worse.

“Maybe we should take Jean to the mall, so she doesn’t have to borrow my clothes,” suggested Nancy.

“You know, you don’t have to pick out a girl name, Emma volunteered, “just remember, when we call you Jean, it’s spelled J E A N.”

I wanted to put a stop to all of this. “I don’t think that Dad will like this,” I announced.

“I don’t know,” said Nancy, “he might think you’re kinda cute.”

“Jean IS cute,” responded Emma, “she looks a lot like you, Nancy, and you are definitely cute.”

“Well, Mom won’t like it,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” Nancy commented, “Don’t you remember all the times Mom dressed you like a girl for Halloween? I think she’d like to see you as a girl.”

So I remained dressed as a girl until I remembered that Nancy had a date that evening, and he should be arriving soon. “Look, give me a break,” I said, “Nancy’s date will be here soon, and I don’t want him to see me like this,” and I gave the skirt a little flip.

My sisters finally relented, and I went up to my room. With nothing better to do, I turned on my computer and played games until it was time to go to bed. ‘Oops,’ I thought, ‘I don’t have anything to wear to bed except for that stupid nightgown.’ I suppose that I could have used my ingenuity and found a sweat suit to use as pajamas, but I actually looked forward to the way the nightgown felt, so I put it on. While so attired, I thought that I might like a glass of milk and some cookies as a bedtime snack, so I put on the peignoir and went downstairs.

Emma and Gloria seemed to have the same idea, so we shared a plate of cookies and drank some milk. “You know, you really do look cute,” Emma said. I just grunted a reply. “Before you go to bed, you should remove your makeup and let your hair down.” I had forgotten that I was still wearing makeup and that my hair was still in a french twist.

“How do I get this stuff off?” I asked.

“Let me show you,” responded Emma, and she did.

When I woke up the next morning, I noticed that my robe was hanging in my closet, and my pajamas were neatly placed on top of my dresser. I have to admit that it was with a bit of reluctance that I took off the nightgown. I had liked sleeping in it. However, I took it off, grabbed my robe and headed to the bathroom for a shower and shave. Once dressed, I headed downstairs.

It was like yesterday never happened, None of my sisters even hinted at what had happened, although I did note a bit of a smirk on Emma’s face. Today was Sunday, and that meant going to Church. A main motivation for me was that Sandy might be there.

Chapter 4 - A ‘Girl’ Day.

A few weeks later the parents were again going to be away for the weekend. That Friday night, as I was getting undressed for bed, I noticed that the nightgown and peignoir were laid out on my bed. I couldn’t resist putting them on, and I then went downstairs for a bed time snack.

“You win,” Nancy said to Emma.

“Won what?” I asked.

“Emma bet that you would wear the nightgown and peignoir, and I bet that you wouldn’t,” Nancy replied.

“You like the way they feel, don’t you?” suggested Emma.

“Yeah, I do,” I admitted.

* * *

The next morning I went downstairs for breakfast, still wearing the nightgown and peignoir. All of my sisters were there, with sneaky smiles on their faces. It was then I noticed that there was a box of makeup, combs and a hairbrush on the table. “How about a girl day, Jean?” Emma asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” I replied.

“Then how come you’re wearing a nightgown and peignoir?” asked Gloria.

“I donno,” I answered. I didn’t want to admit that I liked wearing them.

My sisters wouldn’t let it drop, and I finally outwardly relented to another ‘girl’ day, but at the same time secretly enjoying it.

“First order of business is Jean’s body hair. It has to go,” announced Nancy. So I was given a container of hair remover, and told to follow the instructions. I was also given some shampoo and some conditioner, both of which had a perfume smell. When I stepped out of the shower, Nancy was waiting for me with a pair of pink panties with lace trim and a pink terry cloth robe. Emma handed me a towel.

“Pat yourself dry, don’t rub.”

I held the towel in front of me. “How about some privacy?” I asked.

“Girls aren’t modest in front of other girls, was Emma’s response, so I did as I was told.

As I was putting on the panties, Nancy suggested that I tuck a certain part of my anatomy back. After this, I was standing wearing the robe and with a towel wrapped around my wet hair.

“Slippers,” Gloria announced, “she needs a pair of slippers.”

“I have just the pair,” Emma announced and went to her room.. She returned with a pair of slippers decorated with some kind of feathers, and with a bit of a high heel. Naturally, they were pink. My sisters had picked out some clothes for me, which included a denim skirt the hem of which was halfway up my thighs, a long sleeved cotton blouse with ruffles in the front, tan pantyhose, a pink bra, and Nancy’s shoes.

“The ruffles help hide your lack of boobs,” Emma said helpfully, and she then began stuffing the bra.

While this was going on, Nancy was blow drying my hair and brushing it out. After Emma had finished fussing with my bra, she started applying makeup to my face. “Just a little mascara, lip gloss, and some work with the eyebrow pencil,” she declared.

At last I was allowed to look in a mirror. Although I would never admit it, I liked the way I looked. More importantly, I liked the way I felt. I was beginning to enjoy this, and I smiled at my image in the mirror.

Gloria caught this. “She must like it,” she crowed, “I saw her smile.”

The heels took a bit of getting used to, but I made my way safely to the kitchen.

“Okay, sis, You ready to do some shopping?” Nancy asked. I just nodded my head.

Emma found a jacket for me to wear, and my sisters and I piled into Nancy’s car.

I enjoyed the shopping trip, the attention which I received from my sisters made me feel pampered. At the end, I acquired two skirts, three blouses, two tops, a pair of skinny jeans, a belt, three pantyhose, two panties and a bra.

“There’s a special at one of the cosmetics counters,” Nancy announced, “let’s get her some of her own makeup.” The sales lady at the cosmetics counter was most helpful and I acquired a bag of cosmetics along with some helpful hints on applying it. The last stop was at a discount shoe store, where I acquired a pair of black flats, a pair of low heels in shiny black, and a pair of casual shoes.

Chapter 5 - Caught.

When we arrived home, we saw my parents’ car in the driveway. “Okay,” I said with some self-satisfaction, “I’ll let you explain what is going on to our parents.” I could see Mother looking at us through a window. She met us at the door.

“Is that you, Eugene?” she queried. I just gave her a weak smile. “Nancy, Emma, Gloria, suppose you tell me what’s going on here.”

“Isn’t she pretty?” Emma asked.

“She is,” Mother answered, “but that doesn’t answer my question. What have you done to your brother?”

“We were just having some fun, and we wanted to see which of us she resembles most.” Nancy explained.

“And?” Mother asked.

“Nancy.” Emma responded.

“I could see that with my own eyes.” Mother said, “My question still is ‘why’?” She turned to me. “How much of this was your idea?” I just mumbled some incomprehensible sounds in response. With that she noticed the bags from the stores.

“What’s in the bags?” she demanded.

“Some clothes,” Nancy said in a quiet voice.

“Whose?” Mother asked, only to see downcast eyes and no audible answer. Undaunted, Mother pressed on, “Your brother’s?” Emma just nodded. “Let me see,” she demanded, and my sister unloaded the bags on the kitchen table. “I don’t see any boy’s clothes here,” she commented.

Mother began to pick up each item and examine it. “I do admire your taste in clothes. But right now I want to talk with your brother, privately. You three go to your rooms and stay there until I call for you.” My sisters trooped up the stairs.

“Okay, Eugene,” she said, “tell me your side of what’s going on here.” By her use of my full first name meant that I was in trouble. Softly, and a little shamefully, I recounted the events which had started in the bathroom with Nancy, and ending with today’s shopping trip.

“So, why?” she asked, and I recounted the taking of pictures and the girls’ threats to publish them on social media. “Did you let a little blackmail cow you into doing all of this? I’m disappointed that you didn’t come to me when it started, You should know that I would have put an immediate stop to it.”

“Yeah, but,” I countered, “they said that you would believe them and not me.”

“And you believed them?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” I responded.

“There’s got to be more to this than you’ve told me,” Mother declared. “Answer me truthfully. You like dressing up as a girl, don’t you?”

Unable to answer, I just nodded my head.

“How long have you wanted to do this?”

“Ever since you dressed me as a girl for Halloween,” I answered.

“So, are you trying to blame me?” she said angrily.

“No, I’m not blaming anyone. I can’t help how I feel.”

“I want you to go to your room while I discuss this with your Father,” she commanded, “and take these clothes with you. I want them neatly put away in your dresser, or neatly hung up in your closet. By the way, keep on the clothes you are wearing until I say otherwise. Now go!”

I trudged up the stairs, only to be met by my sisters in the hall. “What happened?” whispered Nancy.

“Mon’s going to talk to Dad about this,” I whispered back, “I think we’re all in trouble.”

“I think that we should all obey Mom and stay in our rooms,” Nancy observed.

“Are you going to change?” Emma asked.

“Mom told me not to,” I whispered back.

With that we all retired to our respective rooms, to await our fates.

Chapter 6 - Consequences.

About a half an hour after being sent to our rooms, we heard our Mother summon us to come down to the living room. Dad had an unhappy look on his face but said nothing as we entered the room. Mother, as chief prosecutor, had us stand lined up by age. “Your Father and I are disgusted and disappointed with all of you, and here is what we are going to do about it.”

At this time, my Father spoke up, “I’m disappointed in you, Gene, for letting this happen. Further, I’m disgusted that you would want to dress as a girl. So, here’s what’s going to happen to you. You will dress in girls’ clothes except when you are at school or in church. I hope that will discourage your cross-dressing by getting it out of your system. We’re grounding you partly as a punishment, but mainly because I don’t want you galavnting around town in a skirt or dress. I’m afraid of the consequences of people seeing you as a girl, so your grounding is partly to protect you.

Now was not the time for me to say that being made to dress as a girl was hardly punishment; it was something I wanted to do, so I kept my own counsel.

Mother then focused on my sisters. “As you girls probably surmised, you are all grounded indefinitely,” Mother asserted. While your Father is disgusted with Gene’s cross-dressing, both of us are really angry that you attempted to blackmail your brother, regardless of the fact that he was so stupid to let you get away with it. I want you to know that any current or future hints of blackmail will be dealt with severely. Now, your Father will accompany each of you, one at a time, to collect your cell phones and any cameras which you might have. They are to be considered to be contraband, and if any of you fail to surrender all cameras and cell phones, your possession of contraband will be dealt with in a severe manner.”

She paused for a few seconds, and then said, “Nancy, go with your father and give him all cameras and cell phones.” As Nancy and Father left the room, Mother glared at the rest of us, and commanded, “You three stand where you are, and no talking with each other.”

One by one we all accompanied Dad while he collected our cell phones and cameras, all of which were deposited on the coffee table. Mother had kept us standing in a straight line, with no talking. She then stood next to Father and delivered an additional edict. “Your Father and I, knowing you to be clever children, suspect that you have uploaded some of the pictures to the hard drives of your computers. To prevent any dissemination of the illegal photographs, your Father has disconnected the wireless router,” she announced. With that Dad held up the wireless router. “We will attach anti-theft devices to all of your computers, to prevent you from taking them to a free wi-fi location.” she added. “Now, under your Father’s supervision, you will delete any photos of Eugene in a ‘compromising’ position which you have on your hard drives. When this is done, you will swear that you have no further photos. If it later turns out that some of these photos turn up, the consequences to all of you will be severe. Is all of this perfectly clear to you?” My sisters and I mumbled our assent.

Mother was not finished. “I want you to voluntarily delete any offending photos from your digital cameras and cell phones. Your Father and I will supervise this, starting with Nancy. Nancy, pick up your phone and any camera you have used in the last six months. The rest of you can sit down, separated from each other, and there will be no talking.”

The process of purging the photos took all the rest of the day and evening. I can honestly say that all of us were sufficiently afraid on the consequences that we deleted all of the prohibited photographs. When this was done, Mother had a final order, “All of you will promise that you will not take any photos of Eugene, without prior permission and supervision from either your Father or me. By the way, Eugene, that includes any ‘selfies’ you might take of yourself.” With that we were dismissed to go to bed immediately.

* * *

The next morning Mother marched into my room, unannounced and without first knocking. She immediately went to the closet to see that my girl clothes were properly hung up. She then went to my dresser to make sure that my other girl clothes were properly put away. “Okay, Eugene,” she finally said, “since you seem to like wearing skirts and dresses so much, every afternoon after school you will dress completely as a girl, under garments included, and remain that way until you go to bed. When you go to bed you will wear a nightgown. On the weekends, you will completely dress as a girl, except when you go to church. Is that clear?” I gave her my assent. “Nancy will supervise your compliance with this rule, and report any infraction. If Nancy fails to inspect you every day after school and at bed time, you will have to report her failing to either your Father or to me.”

The severity of the measures imposed by my mother were sufficient to cast a prison like gloom over the household for the next week. By the next Saturday Mom and Dad appeared to be satisfied that all blackmail photos had been located and deleted from our computers. However, my sisters and I all noted that before deleting any photos, Dad had copied them to a thumb drive. We wondered what he did with them.

Gradually, our cell phones were returned to us, and we were allowed limited relief from the grounding order, mainly to be able to attend after school activities. We were allowed to study with classmates, either at their house or ours. A few days later the wireless router was reconnected.

The next weekend the grounding edict was lifted and life more or less returned to normal, or at least as normal as can be expected in a house with four teenagers. On Saturday morning Mother took me aside.

“I’m no longer going to require that you wear girls’ clothes when at home, but, tell me, honestly, if you like wearing them?” she asked.

“Well, sorta,” I mumbled.

“Okay, get your sisters back in this room,” she commanded. When we were all assembled, she said, “Gene no longer has to wear girl’s clothes, that is, unless he wants to. To make sure that there is no undue coercion, I will have to approve of the same in advance. Now as to what Gene may wear; it must be modest, not tarted up. I was going to suggest that he wear nothing more risque than what you girls wear, but I realized if I said that you would dress like a bunch of hookers just to get Gene to look the same. So, here it is, Gene may only dress as you would when going to church. Do you understand? I want you to obey the spirit of what I have just said; no looking for loopholes.”

At that time I was wearing a skirt and blouse. “May I keep these on?” I asked Mother.

“As long as you like,” she responded, “but you might not want to while you Father is around, because he doesn’t like it.”

“How about at night?” asked Emma, “she, I mean he, has been wearing one of Nancy’s nightgowns when you were away, can he wear that?”

“If he wants to,” Mother answered, “Nancy,” she continued, “are you able to spare a nightgown?”

“No problem,” responded Nancy.

“Maybe we should buy Gene his own nightgowns,” Mother replied.

“She, I mean he, likes to wear a matching peignoir,” rejoined Emma.

“We can get him a matching peignoir,” Mother added with a smirk.

“I want to make sure that no one knows about this,” I interjected.

Mother laughed at this, and said, with a touch of sarcasm, “You mean that when you went shopping with your sisters you managed to become invisible?”

“That was different,” I responded, “everyone thought I was a girl.”

“And your point is?” Mother propounded.

“I don’t want any of the kids at school to know, I answered, “especially Sandy.”

So, everything returned to an even keel, at least for a time.

Chapter 7 - My Secret is Discovered.

Even though I didn’t dress as a girl for the majority of the time, I did like the way panties felt when I wore them, and frequently I would wear panties under my male clothes. This was all well an good until that fateful day. I had invited Sandy over to study french pronunciation from a program on my computer. I was wearing pink lace trimmed panties under my jeans, and somehow one of the cables for the computer became unplugged, and I bent over to plug it back in. Sandy was sitting next to me, and my jeans were a bit low on me, When I bent over Sandy spotted the waist band of my panties.

“What are you wearing?” she announced.

“Nothing,” I responded.

“No, it’s not ‘nothing,’ it looks like you are wearing panties under your jeans,” and with that she pulled up my t-shirt, exposing the entire waistband of my pink panties.

“You are wearing panties,” Sandy exclaimed, “Why?”

“I’m being punished,” I temporized.

“For what?”

“I’d rather not say,” I answered.

This bothered Sandy, and when she went downstairs to get some refreshments, Mother was in the kitchen, and noticed concern on Sandy’s face. “What’s the matter, dear?” she asked.

“Gene said that he’s being punished, but won’t tell me why,” Sandy responded, “it’s not like Gene to keep secrets from me.”

“He’s not being punished,” Mother responded.

“Then why is he being made to wear panties under his male clothes?”

“Oh, he is?” Mother responded, “just wait a minute,” and with that she called out, loud enough to wake the dead,” Eugene, come down here this minute!”

“Oh (bad word),” I said to myself, “I’m in deep (same bad word) now.” With that, I walked down to the kitchen.

Mother got right to the point. “Why did you tell Sandy that you’re being punished and have to wear panties under your jeans?”

“I donno,” I mumbled. A moment of silence followed.

“Why don’t you tell the truth? You know that your Father and I despise lying.” Mother asserted. She waited for my answer, but I said nothing.

“Why don’t you tell Sandy that you like wearing girls’ clothes?” she said, since I had not answered her previous question.

“Is that true?” Sandy said with a look of incredulity on her face.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I mumbled. I could imaging Sandy running out of the house, never to be seen with me ever again.

It didn’t happen. Rather, Sandy asked, “Could I see?”

“You have my permission,” said my Mother. “When he wants to dress as a girl, he has to get my permission first,” Mother confided to Sandy, “but you’ve got to promise to keep this a secret.”

“Okay,” answered Sandy.

“Why don’t you go to your room and get dressed?” Mother asked.

“Can I watch?” asked Sandy.

“Only if I’m also in the room,” said Mother. So all three of us went to my room. After undressing except for my panties, I went to my dresser and retrieved a bra and camisole, and some foam rubber breast forms which I had fashioned for myself. I put on the bra without any problem, inserted the faux breast forms and pulled the camisole over my head.

“He did that pretty quickly,” Sandy observed, “I bet that this is not the first time.”

I responded with a frown, and then went to my closet. Sandy stood up and moved next to me. In the back rack of my closet were my girl clothes. Sandy made humming noises when she saw the clothes. “May I pick something out for you to wear?” and without waiting for an answer she picked out a red and blue plaid kilt and a sheer white sleeveless blouse with ruffles.

“I have to wear a slip and pantyhose with that skirt and blouse,” I commented, and went back to my dresser where I took out a slip and pantyhose. I sat on my bed and gathered the legs of the pantyhose in a rose and slipped one foot in, after which I brought it up and did the other foot in a similar fashion, followed by pulling them up to my waist and then smoothed them on my legs. This caused a reaction, and I turned around so my back was to Sandy and tucked a part of my anatomy back between my legs.

“It’s obvious that you’ve done this before,” commented Sandy. I just grunted in response.

“Girls don’t grunt,” my mother said reprovingly. I just gave her a dirty look back as I put on my slip, and adjusted it. I then put on my blouse, and wrapped the kilt around me and fastened it, I then pulled up the hem of the kilt, reached under it, and pulled the tails of my blouse down to make it fit correctly. I returned to the closet and, squatting down, not bending at the waist, I took out my pair of flats, which I then put on.

“No heels?” asked Sandy.

“SHE is more comfortable with flats,” Mother answered, with emphasis on the female pronoun, “but maybe you should wear your heels for Sandy.” I changed into the heels. I walked back to the center of the room.

“Wow, you handle those heels well,” commented Sandy.

“Practice,” Mother commented, making sure that there was no doubt that I had dressed this way on prior occasions.

“I like the way her butt sways when she walks,” commented Sandy, now adopting the female pronoun.

“Okay, you two,” I said, “are you satisfied? May I change back to my regular clothes?” With that I sat on the bed, first smoothing my kilt under my bottom, and gracefully sitting on the edge of the bed, with my back straight, as I was taught.

Sandy chuckled. “The way you put you girl clothes on and move in them, I’d say that what you are wearing are your ‘regular’ clothes. Don’t you agree?” she said to my Mother.

“You saw what I saw,” my Mother commented. “Actions speak louder than words. Keep on what you are wearing.”

Mother suggested that we return to the kitchen for a snack. As we were walking to the kitchen, there was some hardwood floor which we had to cross, Naturally, my heels made the unmistakable clicking sound, which caught the attention of my sisters. I heard a snickering sound behind me, only to discover that my sisters, one by one had entered the kitchen..While they said nothing, the smirks on their faces said it all.

“I had nothing to do with this,” my Mother said in the way of a lame excuse, “I only gave my permission. All of this was Sandy’s idea.”

“I saw that she was wearing panties under her jeans, and one thing led to another,” Sandy said to my sisters.

Emma finally spoke, “She is a good looking girl, isn’t she?”

“Why don’t you give us a twirl,” suggested Nancy. I frowned at her.

“Yes, please,” said Sandy, enjoying every minute of my discomfort. “And, yes, she is good looking. Maybe she would look better with some makeup and her hair fixed in a girl style,” Sandy added, “I’d like to see the whole look.”

“Jean,” Gloria asked, “where are you hiding your makeup and hair stuff?”

“Yeah, where?” added Nancy. Mother looked at me, expecting an answer.

“In a box, top shelf of my closet,” I said with reluctance. Gloria went upstairs and returned with the aforesaid box, after which Nancy attacked my hair and Emma started with the makeup.

“Day or evening look?” enquired Emma.

“Go for evening,” responded Nancy.

“Don’t I have a say in this?” I asked.

“No,” answered Emma, who then turned to Sandy and said, “She’s pretty good at applying her own makeup, but on this occasion she can’t be trusted to do an ‘evening’ job.”

When Nancy and Emma were finished, I remained silent, stood up and clicked my way to the full length mirror in the hall. What I saw was a good looking teenage girl all dressed up for a date. While in the hall, I heard Nancy tell Sandy, “The best part is that her girl name sounds just like ‘Gene’ only it’s spelled differently.

“Why don’t you two finish your studying,” Mother suggested, “and then we can go out for pizza. My treat. Girls,” she said to my sisters, “why don’t you get a little more dolled up?”

She took Sandy aside, and whispered, “His Father and I hope that this is a phase which he will outgrow if we let him dress like this.” She was wrong.

Dinner at the pizza place was more or less normal, but only if a bunch of boys leering at us was normal, which my sisters assured me was indeed normal. “Mom being here restrains the boys somewhat,” Nancy confided to me.

For our next study session, Sandy insisted that ‘Jean’ be her study partner. I complied with her request, and was rewarded with some kisses. I told Sandy that when dressed as ‘Jean’ I tried to avoid my Father, since he did not approve.

Like a genie, or should I say ‘Jeanie,’ once being released from her bottle, wasn’t going to be ignored or forced back in the bottle. A part of me, which I genuinely enjoyed, was now free.