Reluctant Diva 4
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 4 – Just the same
The next day was indeed another day and after school, despite all my coaxing, Tom plonked himself down in front of the TV and refused my requests for him to change.
“You can’t make me dress like a fairy and neither can Mom” was his repeated retort.
When Mom came home the expected explosion duly took place, with Tom defiant and Mom losing it completely. It ended with him being stripped and sent to stand sobbing in the corner of the room in his birthday suit until dinner was ready.
Mom looked none too happy with me either, but at least she didn’t yell at me. She merely gave me the strongest sense of disappointment that both my ingenuity and powers of persuasion had been found wanting. For the rest of the evening the hours crawled by with uncomfortable slowness amid an atmosphere you could cut with a knife. It was a relief when it was finally time for bed.
The following afternoon marked a huge improvement. Having repeatedly been assured that Mom’s anger would be softened if he elected to follow my advice, Tom was persuaded to bathe as soon as we got home. I added a generous measure of bath salts to the water and told him to wash his hair too. When he came out of the bathroom wrapped only in a towel he looked well-scrubbed and clean.
He addressed me doubtfully, “I really don’t like this” referring to how he smelled of course, and it certainly seemed strange to have such an elegant perfume coming from his direction.
“Oh, it’ll soon wear off” I tried to reassure him. “Hurry and get these clothes on. I’m going to sort your hands out in a while, too. Mom will be so impressed!”
He didn’t object, thankfully, and while I washed up and got changed myself he resignedly dressed in another of the bras and the same capri top which I’d laid out for him. This time I’d selected a pair of pink shorts and some slip-on sandals to go with the top. The shorts were so full they resembled a skirt! He didn’t even protest at the pair of plain white cotton panties I had chosen as his underwear. Though they had no lace or bows adorning them they were definitely an unusual undergarment for a boy!
When I’d done my face and hair, I took him into my room. It had ceased to resemble a boy’s room for long enough thanks to the years of Mom’s feminising influence. He looked around him uncomfortably at the girlie surroundings, but I sat him down at my dressing table and told him to put his hands down flat on the surface. I then took up a nail file and proceeded to smooth and shape his fingernails.
“It’s all right. I won’t colour them” I reassured him “At least not this time.” I took a bottle of clear nail polish and started to shake it up. “You will hardly notice it.”
I proceeded to paint his nails, explaining how it was essential to brush with even strokes, starting in the middle then doing the sides. “It’s easy with practice” I said “You can try tomorrow”.
After making him sit for 10 minutes to let the first coat dry, I applied a second. I then took my brushes and parted his hair in the centre, fluffing it up as much as I could, despite its shortness. “I think that’s everything. Let’s go down.” Mom had come in a few minutes before from her shift at the clinic where she worked. We had heard her spending some time changing out of her nurse’s uniform and then going back downstairs. We looked at each other nervously and both took a deep breath before descending ourselves.
“Hi Mom” I called through to the kitchen as we entered the lounge. “How was your day?”
“Oh, interesting” was her cryptic reply and as she joined us I thought I detected a glint in her eye which for some reason was more than a little disconcerting. “And who have we here?”
This was directed at Tom, who was standing looking awkward and sullen.
Not knowing what reply was expected, I fell back on my standby, “I’ll make some coffee, shall I?”

However, Mom seemed pleased and started to fuss over how Tom looked, how good he smelled, his nails and all the effort he had made (as if any of it was his idea). She did, however, end somewhat sternly (but looking at me) with the statement that if she was to forget his behaviour at the weekend, then he would need make as much effort and more for the remaining evenings this week.
Though Tom was clearly relieved at this reception, he was unwise enough to show his vexation when he wasn’t allowed to turn on the TV until his homework had been completed. “Upstairs now!” She ordered and he stumped off upstairs with her handprint across his cheek, while I accompanied Mom meekly into the kitchen to help prepare our evening meal.
The following day was more successful still. On her return, my mom was greeted by Tom at the door wearing a similar outfit to the previous night but with pink nails this time.
“You ought to know Mom that Thomas did his nails all by himself today” I informed her “and he has also tidied his room.”
“Now that is more like what I would expect” she replied, looking over his head at me. “If he really wants to understand what being a girl entails, then it’s important he knows that it’s not just about clothes and makeup.”
Tom looked incongruously pleased with himself at this praise, but it was I who fully appreciated her approval. Naturally I didn’t let that show in my face.
“Now Jennifer, here is something which will interest you” she began. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what we should do at Thanksgiving and have made some decisions.”
By ‘we’ I rightly guessed she meant me.
“You will be pleased to know that it is going to provide a wonderful opportunity for you to wear your new dress.”
“Oh gee, thanks Mom…” I started, but she held her hand up.
“As I told you before I have one or two purchases to make to complete your look for that day, but I think you will be amazed when you see what I have in view.” The air of mystery which accompanied this statement did nothing for my peace of mind.
“What have…?” Again I was stopped in my tracks by her gesture.
“Trust me Jennifer. What I’ve come up with will take your breath away!” She brooked no further questions and ominously the subject was left hanging there.
After dinner when I was doing the dishes, Mom re-opened the subject of my brother’s discipline regime. “Today was a step in the right direction” she commented “but only a step. I hope you have some further plans for Tom.”
“Oh yes! Leave that to me!” I replied quickly, praying at the same time that she wouldn’t ask for any details. Basically my plan was to make it up as I went along.
She looked at me narrowly, but seemed satisfied with my answer for the moment. “You do understand,” she went on. “It’s not just about appearances, my girl. Behaviour counts just as much, if not more.”
I nodded anxiously. This was leaving me a lot to think about.
“He was playing me up again just now” she went on, “so it’s high time he gets a reality check.”
“Was he? Is that right?” I exclaimed. “Oh boy! Is he going to regret that tomorrow?!”
Keeping up a determined demeanour for appearances sake, I marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into my room. I was buying as much thinking time as I could. It seemed to me that making a direct approach would be the best course of action.
The following afternoon after school I finished making a few preparations in my room and then walked over to the head of the stairs and called him. “Thomas! We need to talk!”
It took him a minute but he came to his door looking slightly alarmed. Hearing the use of his full name usually spelt trouble.
“In here!” I gestured to my own room and he trailed obediently in. This was a change from only a week ago, when any such instruction from me would have been met with laughter and derision. I pointed to the chair and he sat down on it, looking apprehensive.
“Last night you upset Mom again, I believe.” He started to defend himself but I cut in, “No, just listen! More importantly, Mom is still disappointed with you. She thought you were exploring what it was like to be a girl this week in order to show how much you valued women. You are going to have to do much better and quickly too. This is likely to be your last chance”
I gestured to the bed. There laid out on it was a complete outfit of girlie clothes which I myself had been used to wear a couple of years previously. They were just about his size. He looked horrified, but was too scared to protest. Strangely I felt a twinge of something which I could only identify as remorse over his being scared like this. It didn’t seem right to subject him to this humiliation, despite the pain in the neck which he often gave me. From experience I understood only too well how he might be feeling. Nevertheless I had to go through with what I had planned, for my own self-preservation.
“Come on. I’ll help you. It will only be for today.” I reassured him. I wasn’t sure but I might have I meant it. I seemed to find it hard to be angry with him.
Half an hour later, bathed and scrubbed, and surprisingly unresisting, he was duly attired in bra, panty-girdle and hose. Something about his overall look gave me pause. What was it that didn’t seem right? He didn’t fill out the girdle in the way I had always done, whereas it had always been a squeeze for me to get my butt into the constricting garment (and noticeably more so as time went by). More alarmingly he seemed to have a bigger bulge at the front than I had myself even now. Being more than two years older than him, that was something I wasn’t expecting.
Another thing – the bra didn’t sit very well on his chest, despite the care I’d taken to choose a padded one. He certainly had nothing that helped to fill it out. Fortunately I had chosen a dress which might hide at least some of these deficiencies. It was a pink sundress in a full skirted style with thin straps and cute pockets. Having submitted thus far, he made no objection when I slipped it over his head and buttoned it down the back. It had been a favourite of Mom’s for me until I had outgrown it. I brushed his hair forward into bangs and added a pink clip to match the dress. Black Mary-Jane shoes completed the ensemble.
“Now let’s do your nails again,” I said encouragingly, taking a bottle of pink varnish from my dresser. While they were drying I got him to hold his face still while I added mascara and a little blush to his cheeks and outlined his lips. I was surprised that his acquiescence was so complete and once again felt those misgivings run through me. Desiring to leave nothing undone, I rooted out a necklace from my collection. A spray of perfume behind his ears and on his wrists completed what should have been a transformation.

“Now let’s look at you,” and I stood him in front of my mirror and took a pace back to assess the result. Though I couldn’t put my finger on what was missing, there was something definitely not right. Standing before me, the image I saw was just a boy. A rather scared boy, but just a boy, despite the girlish trappings. I was at a loss as to what more I could do.
Mom had returned from work and just then her voice broke in on my thoughts. “Jennifer! You are taking a long time up there. What is going on?”
“Wait here a minute,” I told my brother and dashed downstairs.
“Oh Mom,” I exclaimed breathlessly, in response to her enquiring look. “It’s Tom. He’s actually agreed to be dressed completely like a girl. I was even going to introduce him to you as ‘Tanya’, but I’m not sure it’s working! I think I might need your help.”
Her stern gaze softened to one of amused curiosity. “Perhaps I ought to get involved, then.” She followed me upstairs. Tom was still standing in front of the mirror, a perplexed look on his face having replaced the fearful expression of a few minutes before.
“Well I never!” Mom exclaimed and then burst out laughing. “Yes, I see what you mean, Jennifer.” She began to rock with laughter before gasping out “It’s still just Tom!” She laughed and laughed.
At that my brother’s expression changed to one of relief.
“I look silly, don’t I?” He said decisively, and then with a winning smile, “Can I get changed please?”
Mom nodded, still laughing helplessly, and Tom ran off to his room, leaving me totally confused. The realisation hit home that my little brother might be further along the road to manhood than I was and it really stung. It was humiliating.
“I don’t understand,” I said tearfully. “How can he be the same whatever he wears while I’m not? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing at all,” came the reply. “You are what you are, Jennifer. That’s all!” But there was no comfort for me in those words. Nor in the glint of satisfaction I thought I could detect in my mother’s eye. Just none whatever.
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The following evening after I had returned from my cleaning at the Bennett’s I found another ordeal awaiting me. My mother was in my room going through my closet and drawers. “When you were finding clothes for Tom to wear yesterday I realised your room must be full to overflowing with stuff you no longer wear. It's high time you had a clear-out, Jennifer, so I’m giving you a helping hand.”
“Yes, Mom.” Having spent the last hour doing chores, my lack of enthusiasm must have showed.
My parent wasn’t in a mood to let this go. “It’s a very bad habit for a young woman to get into to keep her things just anyhow” she chided. “You will thank me one day when you have your husband and family to keep in order. Tidy house, tidy mind!”
Husband!
On the bed were two piles of clothing. I could see that one consisted of boy clothes and the other of Jennifer’s. Neither fitted me any longer and at least half the second pile seemed to be underwear. That was unsurprising, considering how my body was developing. Under my mom’s instructions, I parcelled the female clothes up neatly. “I want you to take this directly over to Karen’s. It’s all arranged with Mrs Morris. No time to get changed. She’s expecting you. That other pile can go to Goodwill.”
The prospect before me made me shiver. It was a good long walk to the house in question and I was still in my uniform. Worse, on the second occasion that I was there Mrs Morris had contrived to spill hot sauce over my shirt and pants and I ended up in Karen’s panties and a frilly apron. The memory was still a painful one. I could see my mother was in no mood for argument so there was nothing for it but to comply. What they would want with clothes Jennifer had outgrown I couldn’t imagine. My supposed girlfriend was several inches taller than me, so could have no use for them herself. In the past I had benefited from several of her hand-me-downs that had been passed on to me to extend my own wardrobe.
Why was I wearing a uniform? Well that was something Mom had bought for me to wear for my paid jobs. How did I end up landed with those? It’s still a mystery to me! Like any freshman when starting in high school, my load of schoolwork was heavy. Even so, Mom made sure that my responsibilities around the house didn’t slacken, with laundry every day but Sunday and every room kept spotless. It was unbelievable then that one day, I’d discovered in my closet a little black dress with white trim and a matching lace cap and apron. Anyone would think I had a job as a housemaid!
Mom’s response when I tackled her on this subject was typically nonchalant. With cool unconcern she informed me that she’d got me two paid cleaning jobs, actually. One was at old Mrs Martin’s house. That was after school on Mondays, Wednesdays and also on occasional Saturdays, to pick up and vacuum. The other was for Mrs Bennett, my ex-baby sitter Rachel’s mom, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The former would include walking Mrs Martin’s wretched little dog. That activity turned out to be nerve-wracking in the extreme for anyone wearing such a skimpy outfit as I was decked out in.

The most humiliating part of all this was knowing that I would be seen in a maid’s uniform in front of the Bennett family. Fortunately Chris would usually be out at sports practice but there remained Rachel. I’d always had a huge crush on her, for as long as I could remember, and I would have done anything rather than let her see me dressed this way. In the event she was too much my friend to make a thing of it. I could definitely put down her pretence not to notice my outlandish apparel as another instance of her kindness that never seemed to vary.
Getting to my places of work while keeping the shameful uniform a secret also posed a big problem. The nearest of the two was about a mile away and I fretted that I was sure to be seen and recognised either going or returning. In the end I came up with an effective disguise. I borrowed one of my mother’s old wool coats and a hat that concealed my head quite well. With purse and heels I looked pretty much like any other female and that lessened the possibility of being discovered. Talk about stress!
When I set out on my errand this particular evening, I was muffled up accordingly. Mrs Morris opened the door to me herself. I wasn’t anxious to see Karen, or rather, I was most anxious that she didn’t see me in my maid’s outfit. I’d never hear the end of it and it would do nothing to help me establish myself in her eyes as her macho boyfriend. I was hoping that I could merely hand the parcel in and depart. However, the lady of the house was holding their cat in her arms so I had no choice but to carry the bag in for her.
“This is kind of you, Robert, though I can see you’re ‘Jennifer’ today. My, you do look nice. You’re so good with make-up. Up the stairs please, and into the back bedroom” she smiled, closing the front door firmly behind me.
As before, I found her commanding personality overpowering and I did as I was bid. Following me upstairs she chatted away merrily. “Karen isn’t home right now, but she’ll be back presently. It’s that church youth group of hers. It takes up such a lot of her time. Right in there please.”
Mrs Morris returned downstairs leaving me to do as asked. I had time to recollect that on my last visit my ‘girlfriend’ had arranged to spend the evening at the youth group too. What was worse, she had arranged to go in the company of one of my rivals for her affections. To say tonight’s similarity of circumstance caused me some unease was an understatement, but my disgruntled feelings were soon replaced by those of puzzlement when I saw that I had entered a boy’s bedroom. Baffled, I laid my parcel on the bed and looked about me. No mistake. This room must belong to Karen’s younger brother Vernon. To confirm my guess, the door opened next minute to admit the child himself, with his mother following close behind.
His eyes were downcast and I got the strongest feeling that he really didn’t want to be there. Then I twigged. The only other time I’d seen the boy he’d also been in some kind of disgrace. Significantly, his parent had made the comment that he didn’t think that boys could be made to look as pretty as girls and she had assured him that it was only a question of wearing the right clothes and makeup. My appearance had been given as evidence. I wasn’t particularly pleased to be held up as the living proof! What now seemed to be happening to him could be a further stage of his being disciplined. He was about to experience the delights of ‘petticoating’ as it was sometimes known.
I felt sorry for the kid when he was bidden open his parcel. He remembered his manners enough to thank me but his crestfallen appearance when he saw its contents gave me pause. I could clearly remember my own alarm when my first feminine items were bought for me. Now in anticipation that Mrs Morris might hinder my prompt return home, I’d made a plan. I didn’t want to be trapped there and to be once again the object of her manipulation. On the last occasion, I had been manoeuvred into spending the whole evening catching up on all the household chores, as a favour to Karen, even though this had followed the departure of my ‘girlfriend’ for her date. My present worry was that Karen’s contriving mother might have something similar in mind for me tonight.
I didn’t know if it would help materially but my plan just might make things easier for Vernon as well. It involved seizing the initiative and shock tactics would be called for. “Sorry but I can’t wait for Karen, Mrs Morris.” Slipping off my coat and hat, “I’ve too much homework waiting me and as you can see I’m dressed for work.”

The surprising disclosure of my revealing maid’s uniform took the woman aback, just as I was hoping it might.
“Like my outfit?” I primped and gave a twirl. “I thought it was too skimpy to begin with but it’s kinda grown on me. It really gets attention, if you know what I mean.”
Mrs Morris looked stunned at my seeming levity. She pursed her lips in disapproval and taking advantage of her discomfiture I pressed on. “I’m not sure whether Mom regrets getting it for me. She always tells me that the last thing she wants is me chasing boys, but looking like this, I don’t have to do the chasing!”
Speechless for once, she just stared wide-eyed at the brazen attitude I had adopted, not realising it was purely for her benefit.
I did my best to smile back at her innocently, before turning to the boy. “Just think, Vernon. Could be you by this time next year! Sorry Mrs Morris, got to dash. Bye!”
With a wave I ran downstairs leaving the youngster and his parent both with looks of horror on their faces. I made sure I was safely out of the house and away, before even resuming my coat and hat. I couldn’t help smiling to myself all the way home. I just hoped that my pretended enjoyment of my feminised state might shock Vernon’s mother. She might just have second thoughts about the possible ramifications of petticoating her own son. It was all I could do for him. I could only hope he might escape a fate like my own.
Once back home I knew my mom would ask about my encounter. While it was essential that I got her on side, it was important that I stuck as near to the truth as possible. I knew the consequences of being found in a lie all too well. The safest approach seemed to be to cover every detail.
When I had her attention, “It was really strange, Mom. Karen wasn’t there and Mrs Morris seemed a little put out.”
“Oh?” she answered frowning.
“Yes. At first she was pleased to see me and I took the parcel up to Vernon’s room for her. Everything seemed okay when Vernon opened it, but then when I told her I was dressed for work, and showed her my uniform, she seemed to disapprove.”
It was Mom’s turn to look surprised. I shrugged as she stared at me.
“To pass it off, I said that to begin with I thought it was too revealing as well and that it had taken a while to get used to wearing it. It is the sort of thing that attracts attention after all, but you’ve warned me enough against chasing boys. I think I said the right thing.”
I was relieved when my parent was disposed to overlook the incident. It was even reasonable to hope that when she and Karen’s mother got their heads together at some point as no doubt they would, there might be no comeback on me as a consequence and fortunately it proved so. Relief!