"First, make sure the toilet seat is down," Leslie instructed as Heather did as she was told. "It's quite embarrassing to fall down into the water. Then stand in front of the toilet as if you were going to sit. Slip your panties down to your ankles. Now lift the hem of your nightie over your butt, then sit and release the hem making sure to expose your thighs. Great, you're doing fine, girl. Now spread your knees a bit, about three inches. Too much more and you'll spray all over the place. Any less and you'll spray all over your thighs. That's perfect, Heather, you're doing fine. Now, just relax your bladder and let nature do its thing."
Heather bushed and did as she was told. "Ah, nothing's happening," she whispered in obvious confusion.
"I had that problem at first too," Leslie reassured her. “It's an entirely different set of muscles now. Your body seems to know which ones to use to keep it in check but you don’t know which ones to relax. This will help."
With that she turned on the faucet so a steady light flow of water ran into the basin. The sound of the splashing water intensified Heather's need to go.
"Oh, I really need to go now," Heather gasped as she wriggled on the seat.
"Just try to relax everything down there," Leslie instructed. "It'll come."
Heather bit her lip and concentrated on relaxing her groin. The sound of the splashing water was driving her need to pee to tremendous heights. Suddenly as if of it's own volition the urine exploded from her groin.
"Oh," Heather gasped obviously startled. She instinctively squeezed her thighs together and tensed. This almost immediately shut off the much needed release, but not before saturating her thighs. "Oh gross," she exclaimed as she quickly opened her thighs.
"I did the same thing," Leslie chuckled handing her some toilet tissue. "Clean yourself and let's try again. Just remember to keep your knees apart."
Heather gingerly wiped her thighs dry, then repositioned herself. This time as she began to slowly relax, she could feel the flow begin. With trepidation she sought to control the release. Her efforts were successful. In seconds a steady splashing was heard from the bowl as the urine emptied from her bladder. A guilty smile filled her face.
"See, it wasn't difficult to learn," Leslie exclaimed. "Of course, you'll make a few mistakes until it becomes natural, but you'll get it. Now, GENTLY wipe yourself dry by going from the front to the back. If go the other way, you could get a nasty infection. If you don't get it all, you'll get a bladder infection and that really hurts. If you wipe too hard, you'll irritate yourself down there and you don't want to be sore or tender down there. If you wipe too long, you'll get turned on. That's not all that bad, but it can make you take too long."
Heather giggled nervously and cautiously followed Leslie's instructions. She immediately understood what she meant by wiping too long. It felt so naughty and yet so nice. A few moments later, with her panties and modesty restored, Heather washed her hands and returned to bed. She was a much wiser girl. The simple biological experience of relieving her bladder had served as another nail to drive shut the coffin of her boyish past. Heather was rapidly on her way to becoming a complete girl.
Leslie spent Friday night and all of Saturday in the hospital with Heather. The two had been friends but now they became best girlfriends. Heather found the comradery of someone who was undeniably a prissy girl but had been born a boy to be a tremendous aid in adapting to her own girlishness. Of course, Heather still didn't think of herself as a prissy girl, she felt more like a tomboy coming of age. The inner arguments ceased as the three aspects of her personality slowly blended into one. By Sunday morning, there was very little left of BBIV. The macho portion was permanently silenced and really consisted of boyish memories. TSIV totally merged with CGIV once it realized the only difference between the two was their gender. Once TSIV was lucid enough to understand and accept that it could never again be male, it melded smoothly with CGIV. Of course, this was all facilitated by Leslie's insipid sexuality. She didn't miss an opportunity to show Heather just how nice it was to be a pretty girl.
Whenever Heather began to slip into self pity or self loathing about losing her masculinity and being transformed into a girl, Leslie promptly snuggled up to the new girl and took her in her arms to comfort her. Naturally, each time Leslie turned her hugs of compassion into caresses of lust. Poor Heather, still partially in the mind set of a constantly horny teenage boy found great comfort and release in sexual gratification, even though it was now a very feminine gratification rather than the accustomed male self-abuse. This was highly effective since, like most boys, Heath had associated sexual gratification with pleasure. The fact that the arousal was now feminine and of greater magnitude and duration steadily erased the dejected, sorry emotions that emerged whenever Heath sighed about the loss of his male genitals. Instead, every time Heath seemed to emerge, Leslie pounced on the unsteady boy and drove home the fact that he was a girl by bringing him to a tremendous feminine orgasm.
This strengthened Heather and made her look forward to making out with Leslie. Saturday night, Heather woke up in the middle of the night feeling the loss of her boyhood. She reached over and tentatively began to caress Leslie's perky breasts. Leslie instantly woke up and moaned, rolling to offer Heather better accessibility to her breasts while reaching out to fondle Heather's budding beauties. In moments the satisfied girls snuggled together, basking together in the delicious warm afterglow of mutual multiple orgasms.
It was late Sunday morning when Dr. Trate arrived to find the giggling 14 year old girls cuddled together on the bed. "Well, Heather, it seems as if you're beginning to enjoy being a pretty teenage girl," she said with a smile.
"I guess I'm getting used to being a girl," Heather responded softly. "I wouldn't say I'm enjoying it."
"Don't believe her," Leslie retorted saucily. "Her answer was just a left over load of macho crap. She loves being a girl! She's turning into a regular nymphomaniac. Heck, all I have to do is cup her breast and she starts coming!"
"Leslie," Heather indignantly exclaimed as she turned beet red and modestly attempted to shield her budding breasts.
"Don't go trying to be so pure and virginal, girl," Leslie retorted. "You are one horny sexy little bitch."
Heather bit her lip and lowered her eyes. Despite her embarrassment, having Leslie say those things made her pert breasts tingle with excitement. "I can't help it when you touch me like that," Heather snapped defensively.
"Yeah, right," Leslie laughed. "Once you're healed, girlfriend, you and I are going to date a couple of the cuter guys at St. Patrick's. We'll see then if it's my touch or not."
"Leslie," Heather gasped as she shivered with a mixture of dread, terror, and anticipation. She guiltily found herself wondering what it would feel like to have a guy fondling her sensitive breasts.
"You'll do just fine as a girl," Dr. Trate reassured Heather. "You're just super sensitive right now do to the surgery and the absence of testosterone. Currently, your body has a much higher level of female hormones than is normal. Things will settle down once you endocrine system adjusts to being girl. You'll settle down in about for three or four weeks. Leslie was quite a little minx for about the same time after her surgery. Right now I think she's just playing with you. She knows how delightful it is to be a girl. She's trying to help you learn to enjoy your girlishness."
Heather frowned and looked at Leslie. "So you've been playing with me," she scolded as Leslie became visibly apprehensive. "Well, you'd just better keep it up and do it right! Gotcha!" Both girls began to giggle.
"You two are going to make quite a pair," Dr. Trate observed. "Unfortunately, it's time for one of the things that is not too pleasant for a girl. Heather, I'm going to have to give you an internal examination to make sure everything is healing properly inside."
Heather had heard her mother complain about going to the gynecologist for an exam. She blushed deeply and glanced at Leslie who had paled a bit. "Does it hurt," she tentatively asked.
"Not really," Dr. Trate replied. "I'm very gentle, Leslie will vouch for that. It's just uncomfortable and invasive."
A few moments later Heather found herself lying back on the bed, naked below her waist. Leslie held her hand and smiled bravely. Dr. Trate secured a pair of leg braces with stirrups to the bottom of the bed, then took Heather's legs and placed her feet in the stirrups, strapping her legs to the frame supports to prevent her from moving. Once Heather was securely trussed, Dr. Trate spread the stirrups so the new girl's legs were spread wide and raised high, totally exposing her newly remodeled groin. Dr. Trate then placed a stool between Heather's outstretched thighs.
"Now, I have to remove your vaginal form," Dr. Trate explained as she slid the penile shaped plastic device from Heather's feminine depths.
Heather gasped and squirmed a tiny bit. The removal of the vaginal form was by that time a familiar sensation but having it done in her current helpless prone position made her feel weak and vulnerable. Images of the busty women from the stash of porno magazines flashed into his mind. Back then, when he was still a boy, seeing a smiling buxom babe with her legs spread wide to reveal her well fucked cum filled pussy had been a tremendous turn on. Tears of humiliation came to Heather's eyes as she recalled the many times she'd beat her meat while drooling over such lewd pictures. When she had been a boy, such pictures had seemed exciting and naughty. Now that she was a girl and found herself spread in a similar manner, such pictures seemed demeaning and horrible. A shiver swept through her body as she realized that in her present restrained position, if a boy were present, he could freely have his way with her.
"I know this isn't easy for you, Heather," Dr. Trate soothed. "There are no boys around and none will see you like this. Now, I'm going to insert a tool inside you. It will allow me to spread you apart enough so I can see all the way inside. It's made of stainless steel so it can be sterilized to prevent the introduction of any infections. Unfortunately this also means that it is cold. I'll be as quick as I possible. Are you ready?"
Heather looked to Leslie for reassurance. Leslie smiled the that half-hearted smile that says what's abut to happen isn't pleasant but it is bearable and necessary. Heather swallowed bravely then glanced at Dr. Trate with pleading eyes as she bit her lip and curtly nodded her head.
Dr. Trate was as good as her word. The examination was done with alacrity and deftness. Heather twitched and gasped as the cold steel touched her highly sensitive flesh. The anxious girl screwed her eyes shut and tightly squeezed Leslie's hand. The device was only about six inches long, an inch across, and a quarter inch thick. As Dr. Trate inserted it in her, Heather felt as if her entire body were being invaded. As it slipped into her feminine sheath, Heather thought the six-inch length felt as if it were six feet. The sensations, she discovered, were quite unpleasant and the entire procedure felt most demeaning. As the device was sliding into her body touching the sensitive flesh of her new vagina, Heather shivered as she remembered her super sensitive vaginal flesh had been the skin of her penis! It now served the exact opposite purpose for which it had been genetically designed. A single tear trickled down one cheek as she guiltily recalled how often, when she had been Heath, he had wished to slip his proud randy man-flesh into a nice tight wet vagina. Now the very emblem of his masculinity had been converted into the ultimate emblem of submissive femininity. Instead of penetrating a vagina with his penis, she would be penetrated in her vagina by a penis. The fact that her vagina was his former penis was even more disturbing. For the shaken new girl, this humbling insight served as the final nail in the coffin of her former masculinity.
"Everything looks just fine, Heather," Dr. Trate informed her once she'd completed the examination and released the girl. "The incisions are healing properly. Although I don't recommend you try, in about a month you should be capable of intercourse without fear of injury."
"She told me the same thing and I'm still a virgin," Leslie giggled as Heather blushed profusely. "Of course, I haven't dated any boys yet. So far the closest I've come to having a boyfriend had been Heath. You know how intimate we became. I think you and I will begin dating guys together, you know, double dates. I think it'll be a lot safer that way and we'll have each other to depend upon to not let the guys get too fresh."
"I don't think I'm ready to date guys," Heather anxiously whispered. "I don't think I could handle it yet."
"Nonsense," Dr. Trate stated. "I think Leslie has the right idea. Both of you are afraid of guys, and with good reason. However, you'll have to deal with guys and dating sooner or later so why push it off. Do it soon while you're still shy enough about your femininity to be overly modest. If you wait until later, you may find yourself victimized by a slick man. Begin to date boys your own age. They're just as scared and inexperienced as you are. Heather, you know how boys your age think, and it's not with their brains. You know how insecure they are about their masculinity. Learn how to use that insecurity against them. Use your brain and make sure you're in control of the date."
"I think you have the secret for a good date," Leslie agreed. "Boys always want to get into a girl's panties. Yet they are too unsure of themselves to force the issue. If we make the guys think we're attached to them, they'll stop thinking with their brains. When they become too randy, all we need to do is to chop down their manhood a few pegs to make them uncertain and afraid of doing something wrong that could embarrass them. We just have to play a balance game with them."
"Precisely," Dr. Trate replied. "Another thing you could do to begin dating is to pick out guys who are already unsure of their manhood. You might even find a boy or two who would be better off being a girl."
"No boy wants to be a girl," Heather declared. "Unless they were raised as a girl like Leslie."
"In most cases you're right," Dr. Trate stated. "But there are boys who should be girls but don't know it. Heather, you were one of those boys."
"I was not," Heather snapped defensively. "I was all boy. I had never even thought about being a girl until it happened."
"That's exactly what I mean," Dr. Trate affirmed much to Heather's confusion. "You thought you were all boy because you didn't know any different. Now just listen honestly to what I'm about to explain. First, Heather, you are now a beautiful girl, right?"
"Yes," Heather softly replied guiltily.
"Keeping that in mind, compare your physical appearance as a boy and now as a girl," Dr. Trate declared. "If it was so easy to turn you into a beautiful girl, how masculine could you have been to begin with?"
"I guess I didn't look like much of a boy," Heather guiltily confessed.
"Second," Dr. Trate continued. "You have discovered that sex as a girl is far superior to the sex you had as a boy, right?"
Heather blushed deeply and lidded her eyes as she meekly nodded her agreement.
"Third," Dr. Trate went on, "As Heath you were never satisfied with your sexual prowess. You were never sure enough of your masculinity to even try to make a move on Leslie, right?"
Again Heather was forced to agree.
"Fourth," Dr. Trate pressed on. "You had to constantly be on your guard against anything that had the potential to make you look like a sissy, right?"
"Yeah," Heather admitted with growing concern.
"Fifth," Dr. Trate pressed on. "You could not afford to slack off on your ceaseless efforts to prove your masculinity, right?"
"Yeah," Heather agreed. "But..."
"Now lets take those five points together," Dr. Trate cut the girl off. "Physically your masculinity left a lot to be desired if you were so easily changed into a pretty girl. Now add in the fact that sex as a boy was far inferior to sex as a girl. Then consider that you knew your masculine sexuality was questionable or you would have tried to make a move on Leslie. Taken together this proves that your masculinity was never secure, in fact, it was so fragile that you had to constantly struggle to prove and reprove your vaunted manhood. One of your biggest fears was that someone would call you a sissy. Is this all true?"
"Well, yeah," Heather admitted sheepishly. "But I still never wanted to be a girl."
"So you admit you were totally dissatisfied with virtually every aspect of your life as a boy," Dr. Trate triumphantly proclaimed. "Can't you see that your masculinity blinded you to these problems in an effort to save itself?"
"I guess so," Heather gingerly admitted.
"Heather, don't you see what this means," Dr. Trate asked. "Genetically you were a boy. As such you were forced to assume the role of a boy. You thought you were a boy and struggled desperately all your life to be the boy you thought yourself to be. In self defense you blinded yourself to these brutal truths. Now this has not been meant as a put down, this is honest truth, and you agreed it's honest. What all this means is that even when you were Heath, you were more of a girl than you were a boy. You should have been born a girl. Your infection was a blessing in disguise. It forced you to physically become the girl you were meant to be. Think, my sweet young miss, about how quickly you're adapting to girlhood. Could a real boy have become as girlish as you have in five days?"
Heather gasped and sighed as she looked deep into her memories and her past actions. Everything seemed to bear out all that Dr. Trate had pointed out. Her stubborn masculinity had blinded her to the truth about her fraudulent boyhood. "I see what you mean," Heather agreed in obvious shock over the revelation. "I guess I never really was much of a boy. I mean, I knew I was different from the other guys. I always had to work a lot hard to keep up with them. I must have blinded myself to my boyish shortcomings. But should I have been born a girl? I don't know about that. I mean, I know a lot of guys like me... or like I was. If what you're saying is true, that I should have been born a girl, then there are a heck of lot of other guys out there who should have been born girls too."
"That's precisely my point, Heather," Dr. Trate declared triumphantly. "There are a great many boys who should have been born girls. Just as you were, they are blinded to that truth by their desperate boyhood. You lucked out when you developed the infection. In five days you've already discovered that your life will be better as a girl than it could ever have been as a boy. What about those other unhappy boys? You know they're out there, you admitted you recognized them. Shouldn't they have the chance to discover their girlishness? Shouldn't they have the opportunity to break out of their boyish hell where they have to fight to prove their false boyhood? Shouldn't they have the chance to become happy girls like you?"
"Well, yeah, I guess,' Heather admitted confused by Dr. Trate's logic. "But they won't want to become girls because that's exactly the opposite of what they're trying to be. They'd hate becoming girls."
"Just as you did," Dr. Trate reminded Heather. "But also just like you they would quickly discover their true girlishness and learn to love being a soft, pretty girl."
"I guess you're right," Heather conceded. "It just doesn't seem right. Besides, how would you get them to see the truth like I have?"
"That is quite a dilemma," Dr. Trate declared. "But don't we owe it to those poor boys to at least try to reveal the truth? Shouldn't we try to show them a better life as a girl?"
"I suppose so," Heather agreed. "But how would we do it?”
"We discussed this very situation on Friday afternoon," Dr. Trate explained as she concealed her excitement. Heather had asked how WE could do it. This meant she had accepted the logic of converting boys into girls for their own sake. "There are several ways it could be done. Leslie told us that it's so much easier being raised as a girl than it is to change in midstream like you've done, Heather. She suggested that maybe I could isolate the fungal/virus that destroyed your masculinity so I could give it to other boys. I told her that I'd much prefer to have you and her find a way to change those boys into girls. I know that you and Leslie are both very bright young ladies. You also know from first hand experience how much nicer life is as a girl. I'd like to sponsor both of you through a pre-med college curriculum, and on through medical school. Two intelligent and knowledgeable girls such as you will make very capable additions to my practice. It will take at least 14 more years of schooling, but I look forward to having you both as partners in my practice. Just think of the fun you'll have changing unhappy boys into happy sweet girls!"
"I'm not sure about that," Heather stated with obvious reservations.
"Well I'm sure," Leslie declared. "It makes my panties wet just thinking about it!"
"Dr. Trate," Heather began as she blushed at Leslie's ribald remark. "Do you enjoy changing boys into girls?"
"Yes, I do," Dr. Trate affirmed. "I feel I'm doing a public service."
"The other day you said you've transformed a lot of boys into girls. Did most want to be girls," Heather asked.
"Almost none of them," Dr. Trate replied. “Leslie was one of five who wanted to become a girl."
"Did they all have some sort of fungal/virus like me," Heather asked.
"No, most were fairly normal boys when they first came to see me," Dr. Trate confessed. "For one reason or another, they were brought to me because they had behavior problems. It was hoped my hypnotherapy could correct their behavior. I could have done so, but after talking to the mother, or in some cases an aunt or grandmother, I determined the adult had no idea how to raise a boy and longed to raise a girl. The solution was quite obvious. I corrected the boy's behavior by turning him into a sweet girl."
"That's terrible," Heather declared with true horror. "How do you do it," she promptly asked with timid curiosity
"We just finished discussing that quite a few boys should have been born girls," Dr. Trate reminded Heather. "All those I've done fit that category so it can't be horrible if I'm helping them be happier, now can it?"
"I guess not," Heather conceded uneasily.
"As to how I do it, it's quite simple," Dr. Trate continued. "Generally I start with a blood test to see if there are any abnormalities that may account for the bad behavior. Then I use those results to begin a hormonal drug therapy that destroys the male sex and institutes a female puberty. Eventually they become so feminine they can no longer appear as boys. At that point I announce the irreversibility of the condition that caused the derailing of the masculine puberty and the start of the female puberty. I casually add that as the male sex organs atrophy, the decrepit organs will die and become gangrenous. The only way to save the boy's life is to remove the male organs completely, and while I'm at and since no one wants to be sexless, I recommend that I redesign his body to match his feminine puberty. Once they agree to the procedure I suggest they enroll at St. Patrick Parochial School. Mother Superior Erin Murphy and the nuns on the staff are quite cooperative about accepting the special new girls as students. They make sure all the girls behave like proper young ladies."
"I'll vouch for that," Leslie declared.
"What you described sounds almost like what happened to me," Heather exclaimed after a moment. "But what do you do if the blood test comes back okay?"
"I send all my blood samples to a lab that I own," Dr. Trate chuckled. "The test results always come back showing some sort of imbalance."
"Did I really have a fungal/virus infection," Heather asked with deep suspicion.
"It really doesn't matter anymore, does it," Dr. Trate replied with a smug smile of satisfaction.
"No, I guess it doesn't," Heather replied softly. "So what you're saying is that you really do it to boys just because you want to do it."
"Yes," Dr. Trate answered. "My efforts at eradicating juvenile delinquents has come to the attention of several ardent feminist female lawyers, police officers, prosecutors, and judges who handle the legal paperwork needed to change my patients from boys into girls. They like the idea too. They're trying to set up a program with the juvenile courts where troublesome boys would be sent to me for therapy rather than going into conventional juvenile detention. Of course these boys would have to be physically capable of becoming attractive girls and have family's who would be amendable to my treatments of changing the bad boys into good girls, even it would sometimes require a little hypnotherapy. If it takes off, I'll be quite busy. I'll need partners like you and Leslie to help with the practice."
"That sounds like fun, right Heather," Leslie giggled mischievously.
"I don't know," Heather replied. "I'm still not sure it's right to change boys into girls when they don't have to be transformed."
"Don't get so high and mighty just because you're a girl now," Leslie scolded. "You had no qualms about jerking off while you spied on the cheerleaders."
"Okay, okay," Heather blushed. "I get your point."
"I'm glad," Leslie chuckled. "Like I said, it sounds like it can be a lot of fun to change boys into girls when they don't want to do it. But it's a long time until we become doctors. I don't really want to wait that long."
"I think you should tell Heather your idea," Dr. Trate snickered. "If it works out, you and Heather won't have to wait."
Heather's curiosity was peaked. The new girl was all ears as she waited for Leslie to continue.
"Well, I know the nuns at St. Patrick Parochial School get fed up with the antics of some of the boys," Leslie began with mounting excitement. "From what I've gathered since I've been there, each year several boys are enrolled because of behavior problems and their parents or guardians hope the stricter school can help straighten out the boys. I'm pretty sure that since Mother Superior Erin Murphy and the nuns know about and accept what Dr. Trate does to boys, perhaps they could recommend to the concerned parents that the troublesome boys see Dr. Trate for hypnotherapy to help them behave. They already have the boy's records and know the family situation. They could screen the boys for suitability before they send them to Dr. Trate."
"I visited Mother Superior Erin Murphy to discuss Leslie's idea and she sounded quite interested," Dr. Trate stated. "She's definitely looking into the possibility of referring boys to me for counseling treatment and thanks you for the wonderful idea, Leslie."
"It's my pleasure," Leslie exclaimed. "I hope they let Heather and I help pick out the boys!"
"I'm sure Mother Superior Erin Murphy would appreciate your assistance," Dr. Trate stated. "Heather, I also told her about your encounter with the Leprechaun. Now I've met her several times but that was the first time I ever saw her become upset. She was quite shaken by your tale and wants to discuss it with you. I think she actually believes in Leprechauns and that you actually encountered one. I never saw her as anxious and excited about anything as she was about your Leprechaun story, but then again she is Irish."
"It wasn't a tale," Heather declared with a pout obviously upset that no one believed she'd actually encountered a Leprechaun. "It really happened."
"I know you believe it happened," Dr. Trate soothed. "But Leprechauns are simply fairytales. I think your encounter was an extremely vivid dream brought on by your subconscious to give you a reason to explain your failure to function as a male."
"But then what about all the other stuff," Heather exclaimed. "Like my dad getting that job and me going to live with the Balkuts."
"That could have been your subconscious too," Dr. Trate explained. "Heath did want to get into Leslie's panties, so your frustration in your inability to perform as a male twisted your desires."
"Well, I still say it really happened," Heather firmly announced.
"I suppose anything is possible," Leslie declared. "If we could find the Leprechaun it would prove Heather's story. Maybe we could get him to help us change other boys into girls!"
"Since you're really interested in helping change other boys into girls," Dr. Trate began with a mischievous grin. "There is a way you and Heather can help now. As I mentioned earlier there are several feminist lawyers, police officers, prosecutors and judges who are aware of my unusual practice. A few have approached me about the possibility of transforming some boys and men into girls without their cooperation or the complete cooperation of their parents or guardians if they're underage. With you and Heather as ringers, the feminist lawyers have agreed to work hand in hand with me. We should be able to coerce even the most resistant male or, if he's underage, his parent or guardian to agree to my treatment."
"How could that be," Heather asked.
"Simple," Dr. Trate continued with a broad anticipatory grin. "It would require that you and Leslie, two quite virginal and innocent young teenage girls, date those males. We can figure out how they'll meet you on an individual basis. Now we all know what males want when they take a girl out, especially if she is a pretty, feminine, and innocent girl. Knowing this but playing as if you don't, you date them. Because of your supposed juvenile naivete they manage to seduce you. This would mean that you allow them to have their way with you without too much protest and no threats to fix them. You'd have to behave as if you loved doing it, even agreeing to see them again if they ask. As soon as you get home, we rush you to the hospital where you plead date rape. Right now that would be statutory rape, an even more serious crime. We'd make sure the case goes to a sympathetic police officer and a tough feminist prosecutor. They agree to hold off pressing charges if the culprit and, if he's underage, his parents or guardians come to me for hypnotherapy sessions. From there the case would be mine."
"I don't really like the sounds of that," Heather said. "I'm certainly not sure about getting seduced."
"I can help you handle that," Dr. Trate replied.
"That's what I was afraid you'd say," Heather whispered as she shivered with dread. "I don't know if I could handle making out with boys. As far as letting a boy go all the way... I know I'm not ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that. As far as adult guys... there's simply no way I could do anything with a man."
"With a bit of hypnotherapy you could do it all," Dr. Trate soothed as she began to induce Heather into a trance.
"Dr. Trate," Leslie stated firmly in a loud voice that promptly disrupted Heather's slide into the trance. "I agree with Heather. I'd like to help trap boys into becoming girls, but not at the expense of my virginity. I'm not as opposed to going all the way with a guy as Heather is, but when I do it, it will be with the guy I intend to marry. If you want Heather and I to join your practice, it has to be as less senior equals, not hypnotized subordinates."
Heather shook her head to dispel the lingering effects of the almost induced trance. With fear clearly evident upon her face she shrank away from Dr. Trate.
"Very well, Leslie, you're right. I'll do it your way," Dr. Trate surrendered. "Heather, I apologize for attempting to hypnotize you. Girl, please understand, changing unwilling boys into girls is such a tremendous turn-on that it sometimes clouds my judgement. It's one of the reasons I've avoided cooperating with the feminist lawyers and police in forcibly changing boys into girls. It was the idea of you two joining me that pushed me over the edge. Please forgive me."
"I understand," Leslie replied. "Maybe we can come up with some way to trap boys without losing our chastity."
"Dr. Trate, you really frightened me," Heather added softly as she relaxed. "I've accepted the fact that there is no way I can ever go back to being a boy. I'm a girl now and I think with a bit more time and with Leslie's friendship I'll be quite happy being a girl. But before I can begin to cooperate with any of your plans I need to know the truth. Did I have a fungal/viral infection?"
Dr. Trate looked steadily into Heather's unflinching eyes for a few moments as she attempted to gauge the depths of the new girl's concerns. Finally she sighed, turned, and sat into a visitor's chair. "Normally I would avoid a direct reply to such a question, but this time I think the truth is needed. You want the truth, here it is."
Heather and Leslie leaned forward s Dr. Trate swallowed and collected herself. "I only became involved in your case the day I first saw you. The symptoms you exhibited were not caused by me and they were not accidental. When Leslie and her mother returned to town, Hillary renewed her friendship with your parents. One of the first things Hillary did was to reveal to your mother the truth about Leslie. Your mother understood why Leslie had been raised as a girl and was quite impressed by Leslie's femininity and grace. It rekindled a long suppressed desire for such a delightful daughter. If you recall, Heather, at that time Heath was in quite a bit of trouble for drugs, smoking, and being a peeping tom. Those troubles made your mother wish that you had been born a girl. Hillary suggested that your mother bring Heath to me after she told her that I had treated Leslie and enjoyed my work. Your mother was shocked and said no, but a seed was planted. As Heath's behavior didn't improve and he made a lovesick fool of himself at Harry Balkut's funeral, she decided to take measures to insure you stopped being such a testosterone-driven chauvinist. She obtained a second prescription of her hormone medication and began giving it to Heath. That daily dose of female hormones was enough to maintain an adult woman at a normal level. You know what it did to Heath's masculine puberty. It totally derailed it and started you into female puberty. As the testosterone faded from your body, you began to settle down which pleased your mother. Naturally, your mother felt guilty for what she was doing, but every time she thought about stopping the female hormones, Heath did something that kept her fearing what would happen when your testosterone came back. She felt trapped, not wanting to continue but afraid to stop. When Heath didn't come home on Halloween, your mother began to panic. Her guilt pushed her to the edge of sanity. When Heath came home and confessed spying on the cheerleaders coupled with his inability to achieve an erection and your budding breasts, she felt justified in giving you the female hormones. It proved to her that Heath was a pervert and by stripping him of his masculinity she could save her child. She called Hillary that morning and confessed all that had happened. Hillary offered to call me to see if I was interested in helping sort things out. Naturally, I was more than interested. I called your mother and after talking to her told her to bring you in to see me. The rest, you already know."
Heather was silent for several moments as she sorted out the wild tale. It all rang brutally true. With her new insights she could fully understand why her mother had done this to her errant son.
"So I didn't have to become a girl," Heather whispered. "The entire thing was my mother's doing."
"Yes," Dr. Trate confirmed. "Just remember our earlier discussion that Heath were never much of a boy and that you should have been born a girl."
"I remember," Heather asked softly. "Does my dad know the truth?"
"No, he thinks you had a fungal/viral infection," Dr. Trate answered.
"This is all quite a bit to digest," Heather stated. "I'll have to let mother know that I know the truth. How she responds will determine how our future relationship will go. Only I don't know how I want her to answer. I'm angry, yet I feel she did the right thing."
"One thing that will help is if you and Leslie help other boys find the relief from their macho grief," Dr. Trate stated. "We will find a way to do it without compromising your integrity or virginity. Do you think you can do that?"
"I might be able to do that," Heather replied. "It does sound exciting. If only there was some way to ease the trauma. That's the worst part."
"I agree," Dr. Trate added. "Unfortunately, it takes such a trauma to force an unwilling boy to split from his macho past."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Heather sighed. "Just don't try to hypnotize Leslie or I without our permission."
"That I can promise," Dr. Trate smiled. "I'm really looking forward to having you two beauties join me."
The ringing of the phone disrupted the happiness of the three as they hugged and giggled like mischievous schoolgirls. Heather answered the phone.
"Mother," she exclaimed. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes and no," Helen answered. "Your father and I arrived safely. We're settling into our lodgings. It's really an old villa from the colonial period. It doesn't have all the modern amenities, but it has enough to be comfortable. There is even a staff of servants living on the property. I have a full time cook, two maids, a gardener, a butler, and a chauffeur. I've never been so pampered in my life. Your father has been at the construction site almost all the time since we arrived. Heather... I... I miss you. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine, mother," Heather replied with compassion as she heard the loneliness in her mother's voice. She also sensed another hidden concern. "Dr. Trate just examined me and I'm healing well. Leslie spent the weekend and I'll be going home this afternoon."
"Heather, I love you," Helen gasped as she began to sob. "You know I love you and would never hurt you, don't you darling?"
"Of course I know you love me," Heather responded. "Mother, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Helen cried. "I never meant to hurt to hurt you. I only did it because I love you."
"I know, mother," Heather answered softly. "I'm not angry anymore. I understand why you changed me into a girl. Even though I've still not completely adapted, I can see that I'll be much happier as a girl then I could ever have been as a boy. Thank you for changing me into your daughter."
"You know what I did," Helen gasped. "How?"
"I'm not a total dummy," Heather explained. "Well, as a boy I guess I was pretty naive, but now that I'm a girl things are clearer. I questioned Leslie and Dr. Trate and found out the truth this morning. I'm a bit upset about how sneaky you were, but I'm glad you did it. Mother, I love you and will always be your loving daughter."
"Oh Heather, you don't know what a relief this is," Helen cried. "Baby, I apologize for being sneaky but I couldn't do it any other way. Thank you for understanding."
"No problem, mother," Heather answered. "I love you."
"I love you too, darling," Helen replied. "I've got to get off the phone but I'll call tomorrow night."
"Okay, mother," Heather answered. "I'll be waiting."
"That sounded like your mother confessed," Dr. Trate stated.
"She did," Heather sighed. "She was really upset. Her conscience must have really been bothering her. I'm satisfied now. I'm really wiped out. Is it all right if I take a short nap?"
"Of course," Dr. Trate replied. "Leslie, would you like to accompany me on my rounds?"
"Sure, if Heather doesn't mind," Leslie answered.
"Go on," Heather laughed. "I can't get any rest when you're around."
Once Heather was alone, she began to think about all that had been revealed. It seemed inconceivable that her mother had really plotted her transformation. Doing something like that just wasn't like her mother. Despite what Dr. Trate said it had to have been the Leprechaun! From what Dr. Trate said, Mother Superior Erin Murphy believed in Leprechauns. Maybe she had once encountered a Leprechaun! If a grown woman in such a position of authority believed in Leprechauns, they just had to be real. The Leprechaun used his magic to make her mother THINK she had done all those things. Dr. Trate, Hillary, Joyce and Leslie were all convenient players in the bizarre scenario. It had to be the subtle Leprechaun magic that changed Heath into Heather. The Leprechaun was feeding upon the boyish anguish and frustration to replenish his life essence. Heather understood that if she could stop the anguish and frustration and accept and enjoy her girlishness fully, the Leprechaun would be left greatly weakened. In order to get back at the rascally devious Leprechaun, she had to enjoy being a girl. This decision gave Heather a greater desire to be as girlishly happy as possible. She looked forward to discussing the Leprechaun with Mother Superior Erin Murphy. With that settled, she dozed off.
Hillary and Joyce arrived at the hospital just before noon. When they arrived in Heather's room, the new girl looked at the suitcase Joyce carried and swallowed. She knew she had to get dressed to go home. That meant dressing as a girl. She hoped for jeans and a sweater but knew she'd most likely be given a skirt. Heather tried to control the butterflies in her tummy. The thought of wearing a skirt was still naturally repulsive. Rationally she knew it wouldn't be too bad. After all, she'd initially had misgivings about donning the pretty night gown she now happily wore. Still, it was another big step in her emergence as a girl. Up until now, everything had occurred in the privacy of her hospital room. Now she would be going out in public. It was quite unnerving.
Hugs were exchanged, then Leslie and Heather were instructed to shower together. Joyce smiled and winked in a most conspirital manner hen she explained the bathing together was simply so that Leslie could make sure Heather didn't have an accident in the shower. The girls didn't argue.
In moments the giggling duo stood naked in the shower. Heather smiled and licked her lips as she drank in Leslie's undeniable femininity. All the curves were in the right places. If she'd still had her male parts, she had little doubt the pair would be standing. Leslie knew what Heather was thinking.
"I'd have liked to have done this a few weeks ago," Leslie sighed as she began to soap Heather's budding breasts. "But we can still have fun!"
Twenty minutes later Joyce knocked on the door. "Are you two any where near done," she asked knowing what was taking so long.
"We're just rinsing off now," Leslie replied as she blew a kiss to Heather.
The girls were sprawled in opposite corners of the three-foot square stall with their legs entwined. Both had tired, well-satisfied grins upon their faces. In moments they turned off the water and staggered out onto the cold tile floor.
"I think we'd better dry ourselves," Heather stated with a giggle. "It'll take too long if we dry each other."
Ten minutes later the impish pair emerged. The lingering grins on their flushed faces were evidence of their delightful shower.
Heather's smile faded as she saw two nearly identical outfits laid out upon her bed. She knew that Leslie would look simply scrumptious in the cute clothes. She bit her lip in anxious anticipation and dread as she imagined herself in the same outfit.
Joyce knew Heather's concerns. With Hillary's help, they began the task of dressing Heather while Leslie acted as a model demonstrating how to properly don each piece. Naturally they began with the underwear which was identical.
First came pink nylon bikini panties with an eighth inch of dainty white lace about the waist and legs. Heather had little problem copying Leslie and soon the skin tight panties were hugging her soft, rounded hips and derriere. Glancing down, Heather noted her smooth groin looked as cute as Leslie's.
Next came matching pink nylon bras. The only difference was that Leslie was a full 'A' while Heather just filled a 'AA'. Leslie demonstrated how to place the cups at the small of the back and hook the strap in front at the tummy. Heather shivered with anxiety. To wear a bra was total submission to her new life as a girl. Looking down at her chest, she could see that she needed to wear a bra, so stilling her nerves, she wrapped the bra about her waist and hooked her bra together.
Leslie spun the bra about her waist so the cups were in front where they belonged. Heather did likewise. Next Leslie slipped her arms in the bra straps, leaned forward, and slipped the straps up her arms onto her shoulders while guiding her breasts into the soft cups of the bra. Heather swallowed and attempted the complicated feat.
As the soft nylon engulfed her budding girlishness, a shiver of pleasure flowed through Heather's body. Following Leslie's lead, she gamely adjusted the fit until her perky breasts were snugly supported by the soft cups. Heather knew that Leslie looked really cute standing before her clad in her panties and bra. Looking down she noted that she was pretty hot herself. A smile of guilt filled Heather's blushing face as she noted the admiring gazes of Hillary, Joyce and Leslie as they surveyed her flowering girlhood.
Next came soft swirling matching half-slips. The pink nylon shimmered as it caught the light. Leslie easily stepped into the slip and wriggled the elastic waist over her hips. The scintillating half-slip ended two inches above her knees.
Heather did the same but almost swooned as the soft nylon whispered across the flesh of her legs as she drew the girlish garment into place. The delicate lace teasingly tickled her creamy white thighs as she fitted the snug waist about her flat tummy.
Leslie then picked up a pair of pale lavender nylon anklets crowned with an inch wide ruffle of matching lace. Sitting on a chair she carefully rolled one anklet into a tube before slipping it over her toes. Carefully she unrolled the tube over her foot and up her ankle. Then she slowly rolled the lace ruffle down and made sure it was equal all about her ankle. She then repeated the procedure with the other anklet and foot.
Heather watched intently, marveling at how the dainty anklet really accentuated Leslie's girlish legs. As she thought about this, she realized that every girl looked cute and prissy when she wore similar anklets. In a moment it was her turn. She sat on the chair and attempted to roll her pale pink nylon anklets crowned with an inch wide ruffle of matching lace into a tube. She quickly discovered it wasn't as easy as Leslie had made it look. After several aborted attempts, she succeeded. In moments, the feminine anklets graced her ankles. A thrill of excitement swept through her as she realized that the dainty anklets made her legs appear just as girlishly prissy as Leslie's legs.
Then came swirling elastic waist perma-prest cotton skirts with one inch knife pleats. Leslie's was a vibrant lavender while Heather's was a vibrant pink. Since Heather had expected to step into the skirt she was surprised when Leslie lifted the skirt up and slipped it over her head. Heather watched in amazement. By the time Leslie was tugging the skirt into place about her waist, the loose swirling skirt had settled over her half-slip. The pleated hem ended level with the lace hem of the half-slip so that the delicate lace was tantalizingly revealed as the pleated skirt swirled with every movement. Heather followed suit and soon had the neat skirt in place about her slender waist. The constant swirling of the skirt accentuated the sensuousness of the half-slip as it kissed her flesh. Once she had the skirt on, Heather understood that it would be almost impossible to step into the narrow waisted skirt without snagging the half-slip.
Next came soft fuzzy angora wool sweaters. Leslie's was pale lavender while Heather's was a pale pink. Heather needed little instruction for this. The girls smiled and quickly pulled the soft sweaters over their heads. The loose sleeves ended at mid-wrist with simple hem cuffs. An equally simple hem outlined the V-neck. The sweater itself was snug and hugged their torsos revealing all the feminine curves of their perky breasts. After noticing the clearly outlined mounds upon Leslie's chest, Heather blushed when she glanced down to see that her breasts were also clearly outlined.
The last thing were girlish saddle shoes. Leslie's saddle was a vibrant lavender while Heather's was a vibrant pink. Heather easily mimicked Leslie in donning the quintessentially girlish shoes. The feminine shoes added greatly to the prissy girlishness of the outfits.
Heather wanted to look in the mirror but Hillary stopped her. "Have patience, girl. You'll have plenty of opportunity to see how cute you appear. First we have to add some jewelry and fix your hair."
Heather shivered with excitement as Joyce fit a delicate gold necklace about her throat. It was only the light glinting off the shiny metal that made the fine chin barely visible. A half inch golden heart with a small zirconia stone in the center rested upon Heather's flesh to accentuate the V-neck of her fuzzy sweater. A delicate gold watch wrapped about her right wrist. A gold charm bracelet with tiny kittens adorned her left wrist. A pair of gold studs, a pair of zirconia studs, and a pair of half inch hoops were placed in her triple pierced ears.
Once all the jewelry was in place, Joyce showed Heather how to style her fiery red hair. The first step was to form the wispy softly curled bangs that covered her forehead down to her delicate eyebrows. After a thorough brushing, the rest of her shoulder length locks were pulled back to create a single bouncy ponytail high atop the back of her head and secure it in place with a hair tie. The tie was then covered with a length of inch wide vibrant pink satin ribbon tied into a perky bow.
The final touch was a manicure which ended with painting her finger nails a vibrant pink. By this time Heather was getting quite anxious to see herself. While the finishing touches were being added to her appearance, she could see Leslie being similarly adorned. Heather could see that Leslie looked totally awesome. The new girl hoped she looked half as cute as her best friend.
Leslie took Heather's hand and smiled as Hillary and Joyce opened the closet door to reveal a full length mirror. Leslie stepped before the mirror pulling Heather along. The girls gazed into the mirror as the flash from a camera lit up the room. Hillary had taken a photo of the pretty girls to send to Heather's parents so they could see what a pretty daughter they had and to see her first girlish outfit.
Heather gasped as she saw the cute girls in the mirror. One she instantly recognized as Leslie. She knew the equally cute second girl was herself but found her transformation difficult to believe. Peering closely at her reflection, Heather could see a sisterly resemblance to her former image as Heath. No matter how intently she gazed, she could not detect even the slightest hint of boyishness in her all so girlish image.
It was a tense moment as the others held their breath. They hoped Heather's reaction to her girlishness would signal complete acceptance of her new role in life. They breathed a sigh of relief when the amazement upon Heather's face changed into a smile.
Half an hour later, pushed by a nurse and accompanied by Joyce and Leslie, Heather emerged from the hospital in a wheel chair. Heather carried a small shoulder bag and wore a pink jacket to keep her warm in the fifty-degree November weather. Hillary, who had gone ahead to bring her car to the discharge door, waited by the vehicle. After the nurse locked the wheels and swung away the foot rests, Heather stood and walked the short distance to the car. The wind made her skirt rustle softly as she walked. The experience of the skirt and lacy slip fluttering against her thighs felt quite nice and exciting. This was simply another of the many things that made her quite aware of her new girlishness.
As Heather ducked to enter the car head first in the same manner she'd used when she had been a boy a slight breeze gently billowed her skirt and slip. The cool air on her panties made her quickly aware that girls in skirts didn't enter a car the same way carefree jeans clad boys get into a car. As she abruptly stood up, both hands quickly moved to her backside to keep her skirt down. Her face turned bright red as she recalled seeing skirted girls entering a car. At those times Heath hadn't really paid attention other than to impatiently wonder what took girls so long to get into a car. Now she knew. If it hadn't been for Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie forming a protective screen with their bodies, she'd have exposed her panties!
Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie were smiling. "Now you've discovered that it is necessary to enter a car in a ladylike manner when wearing a skirt," Joyce commented in a kindly manner. "Leslie, will you please demonstrate the proper manner of entering a car?"
"Of course," Leslie replied as she proceeded to show the proper technique. "First a girl stands by the door with her derriere facing the open door. Then she smooths her skirt with one hand to make sure there are no wrinkles. She keeps her hand on the skirt at the back of her thigh just above the knee to hold the skirt down. Then she dips her knees while leaning backwards into the car until she's seated. Then she holds her skirts down as much as possible while maneuvering into her seat position. At this point she once more smooths her skirt over her backside and thighs to insure there are no wrinkles. Lastly she tugs her skirt down to cover as much of her legs as possible."
Heather instantly recognized the proper procedure for a skirted girl to enter a car as one Heath had witnessed many times. But at those times Heath had been a rascally boy hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl's panties and had not really paid attention to her actions as his interests had been focused on more impish notions. Now that Heather had paid attention to the manner in which a girl entered a car, she realized that Heath had been wasting his time. There was simply no way a skirted girl, taking her time, would ever reveal her panties if she followed the procedure Leslie had demonstrated. Paying attention to the details, Heather was easily able to mimic Leslie's actions.
The others praised Heather for her quick learning. In moments, the four were seated in the car and pulling out onto the street. Seated in the back seat, Leslie and Heather held hands. Both as best girl friends and to calm Heather's jittery nerves.
Heather wondered how many other seemingly mundane everyday activities were performed so differently between boys and girls. She was well acquainted with the way boys did things, but if the simple act of entering a car was so different with such embarrassing consequences, what other humiliating faux pas awaited her? She would soon find out.
Hillary pulled into the parking lot of the best restaurant in town. "I thought we'd treat you to a birthday meal," Hillary explained. "Even though it's not your birthday, it is your first time out as a girl, so we'll treat today as your girlish birthday."
Heather watched closely as Leslie exited the car. Basically it was the reverse of entering. But this too was different from the way a boy exited. Once more Heather was able to carefully copy Leslie. The others wore broad smiles to see that Heather was so aware and serious about becoming a proper young miss. Heather smiled and took Leslie's offered hand. The girl friends squeezed hands in reassurance of a job well done as they crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk. Unfortunately, things would not continue to go so smoothly.
As the group rounded the corner of the building, a mischievous gust of wind whooshed through their midst. Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie instinctively placed a hand on their skirt to hold it modestly in place as the breeze playfully tossed their skirts. In her newness to girlhood, Heather did not have that protective instinct. The rascally wind swooped beneath Heather's skirt and slip, abruptly tossed the girlish garments about, and as if sensing it had encountered a novice girl, teasingly fluttered her skirt and slip above her waist. Naturally, her pretty pink panties were clearly revealed.
Heather squealed, released Leslie's hand, and danced frantically about while flailing at her errant skirts in an effort to restore her modesty. The skirts were quickly subdued and Heather firmly tugged the hem of her skirt down. Surprised and out of breath, she fearfully looked at her companions to see if they were laughing at her. Much to her relief, they were not. In fact, all had serious expressions upon their concerned faces as they surrounded Heather to assist her.
Derogatory laughter made Heather turn. On the sidewalk about ten feet behind them were a mother and father walking behind their two sons who appeared to be about 14 and 15. The boys were laughing and pointing at Heather. The father was smiling and chuckling as he too looked at Heather. It was quite obvious the three males had enjoyed the show. It was also obvious the woman had not enjoyed it, nor was she happy with the reaction of her sons and husband. Of course, she never for a moment considered blaming Heather. The poor girl was simply an innocent victim. The scowling mother quickly slapped the boys on the back of the head. "Alec and James," she snapped. "Mind your manners." The boys stopped pointing and laughing, but their leering smiles remained. The husband instantly got the message and sobered.
Heather turned as red as a beet. It was quite obvious the family had clearly seen her pantied bottom. Tears of humiliation and self-anger filled her eyes. Too embarrassed to continue into the restaurant, she bowed her head in shame and minced to the edge of the walk to let the family pass. Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie did the same.
As the family passed by, Heather heard the boys snicker. They had gotten a cheap thrill. If they were anything like Heath had been, they would probably recall Heather's pantied backside and fantasize about more of her blossoming body as they lay in bed that night and played with themselves. This sent a shiver of regret down Heather's spine. How many times had Heath laughed at a girl when he had seen the wind toss the girl's skirt to reveal her panties? How many times had he or his buddies back in grade school preyed upon unsuspecting girls in an effort to flip the poor girl's skirt to reveal her panties? How many times had he used the sight of a girl's unintentionally exposed panty-clad backside as a basis for a masturbatory fantasy? Back then when he was a boy it had all seemed like a grand adventure. Now that she was a girl and the shoe was on the other foot, she knew it for the cruelty that such incidents really engendered. The guilt of Heath's past misdeeds coupled with Heather's present humiliation, anger, and frustration caused the new girl to break down in sobs as her tears freely flowed.
Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie understood Heather's grief. They surrounded and hugged the crying girl, soothing her until the tears ceased. Taking a tissue from her purse, Joyce carefully dabbed away Heather's tears and waterlogged eyes. Another tissue was supplied so she could blow her nose. No words were needed. Heather understood that they had all experienced similar humiliation. Having a skirt flipped to reveal panties was one of the crosses a girl had to bear. The shared experience served to make the bond of sisterhood between women strong.
Meanwhile the family that had witnessed Heather's losing encounter with the wind had been seated inside the restaurant. The woman was seething. The boys were nervous, awaiting the coming tirade. The husband hoped against hope his shrewish wife would simply let the matter drop.
"You three are absolutely disgusting," Grace Henry indignantly declared. "I'm sorry to even admit that you heathens are my sons. The ingrate behind them is my husband Richard, you KNOW better. You should have admonished the boys, but no, you had to laugh too! That poor sweet girl. Just imagine how embarrassed she feels. It was bad enough that the wind tricked her, but your laughter was horribly cruel. There is simply no excuse for your rude and crude behavior! I feel compelled to apologize poor girl"
The red-faced boys shuffled their feet as their mother harangued them. Their heads were lowered with their eyes glued to the table. The expressions on their faces were ones of dejection and humiliation. They sat at the table like doomed prisoners awaiting the executioner's noose.
"We're sorry," Alec finally mumbled.
"That is totally unacceptable," Grace intoned with a hiss. "But I'll guarantee that you WILL be sorry!"
"Grace, darling," Richard began in as conciliatory a voice as he could manage. "They were only being boys. They don't know any better. It's my fault. I'm responsible. I should have known better and set a proper example for my boys. It's my fault they were so crude. Please, don't blame them, blame me."
"You're a sorry excuse for a man," Grace stated in a belittling tone. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. But you are right. You do set a bad example for the boys. I'll have to do something about that. As for your pathetic excuse that they're only being boys, that's a crock. Boys who are only being boys grow up to be men like you! Maybe I should just throw you out on your ear. Then I should pack the boys off to a military academy where they'll be whipped into shape."
The three males cowered before the woman's wrath. They all thought back to the time six months ago, before she'd inherited a fifty million-dollar fortune from her man-hating aunt. Before then shed been an unassuming submissive wife and mother who catered to the men in her life. Since then, things had changed greatly. According to the will, only Grace could control the estate, and then only after she took an intensive two week crash course on finances. As required by the will, the family had to move into the aunt's lavish estate complete with servants while Grace went to a private institute to take her course. Before his wife returned, Richard became enchanted with his new luxurious lifestyle. Realizing the wealth was truly theirs, he walked into his employer and told him to shove his job where the sun doesn't shine. By the time Grace joined her family in the lap of luxury, Richard, Alec, and James had become spoiled louts who took joy in abusing the help.
Grace was a changed, empowered woman when she returned to her family. Gone was the meek mother and wife In her place was a worldly woman capable of handling her fortune. The males quickly discovered she was not longer a pushover. Richard did not get the Ferrari he'd wanted. The boys didn't get the video games they'd wanted. They made do with what they had. In addition, Grace was furious Richard had quit his job. No work, no money, became her motto. All credit cards were torn up and the accounts closed. The joint savings and checking accounts were emptied and closed. She told him since they were joint accounts, half the money was his. Grace kept half the cash and gave the other half to Richard to do with as he pleased. Then she informed them that neither Richard nor the boys would receive an allowance. Anything they wanted, if it wasn't freely available on the estate, they had to ask Grace to get it. Their lives steadily became fully dependent upon Grace's stingy largesse.
By now, Richard was down to his last three hundred dollars. The boys had no money. They had no jobs and no where to turn. They were trapped and at Grace's mercy. They all knew that fact, and Grace used it to force them to do what she wanted.
"When we're done eating," Grace closed the lecture. "We'll go over to that poor girl and publicly apologize. Each of you will ask for her forgiveness. I suggest you be extremely sincere, because I'll make sure you're each mighty sorry if she doesn't accept your apologies."
The rest of their meal was eaten in silence. When they finished, Grace had the bill put on her account. "Richard, leave an appropriate tip," Grace ordered as she stood. "You will also fully pay their tab as punishment for your gross misconduct."
The tip for their bill would come to forty dollars! That only left him with $260.00. That might not be enough to pay their bill! Fear and a growing terror gripped his heart. Richard opened his mouth to protest. But a withering glare from Grace forced him to meekly bow to her demands. Tears threatened to come to his eyes as he pulled the cash from his wallet. Then he hurried to catch up to Grace and the boys as they headed for the table where the young girl sat with her family.
Once Heather had fully recovered from her humiliating ordeal, Hillary led the small group as they entered the restaurant. The Maitre'd checked the register for the reservation Hillary had made. In moments, the four were following the tuxedo clad man into the elegant dining room. Heather almost committed another faux pas as they arrived at their table but caught Leslie's subtle motions to indicate patience. As Heather waited and watched, the Maitre'd pulled out a chair for Hillary. Hillary sat, and the man slid the chair into place. Heather had seen such courtesy in movies and had seen the Maitre'd do the same for her mother the few times her family had dined here. It dawned on her that since she was now a girl, such courtesy was to be expected.
Heather watched closely and waited as Joyce and Leslie were seated. When her turn came, she was able to gracefully mimic the others. Once seated, the Maitre'd handed them menus and explained the daily specials and soups du-jour. Heather felt a warm inner glow as the recipient of such impeccable manners. A smile filled her face as she decided that being a girl was going to be quite nice.
Joyce quietly reminded Heather that she was now a proper young lady and as such had to watch what she ate. Small portions were important to maintain a proper weight. Taking small bites and chewing thoroughly before swallowing were also expected to become new habits. Polite conversation during the meal was expected, but one was never to speak with food in her mouth. An accessible napkin was mandatory to often daintily dab ones lips during the meal.
The lessons were not difficult, especially since the others at the table already practiced the manners. Since she took smaller bites and chewed each thoroughly before swallowing Heather discovered the food was delicious. Subtle flavors and rich textures she'd missed when wolfing down food as a boy were now clearly revealed. Dining as a proper young miss was clearly going to be a tasty delight.
The meal ended with a birthday cake. The Maitre'd accompanied the waiter. The cherry vanilla flavored pink cake was covered with light pink icing with hot pink accents. Fourteen pink candles were flickering as the cake was presented.
"Make a wish," Leslie exclaimed as the cake sat before Heather.
Heather smiled. It had been several years since Heath had made a wish while blowing out candles. As a boy he had felt such an act was the mark of a little child or a sissy. Now that was no longer a concern. Making a wish was acceptable and expected of a girl. Again she thought how pleasant life was going to be as a girl. Never again would she have to worry about being a sissy. As a girl she was freed from that onerus burden. Biting her lip she frowned with deep thought as she sought a suitable first wish.
After a few moments of deep thought her face brightened. She recalled that the Leprechaun had always spoken in a nine beat rhyme. Perhaps for wishes to work they had to be pronounced in a similar pattern. Look at that old nursery rhyme wish:
Star light, Star bright the very first star I see tonight;
I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.
Most nursery rhymes were based on facts, no matter how obscure. Maybe the origin of this wish rhyme recalled the need to rhyme but forgot the eleven-beat pattern. Since the leprechaun had spoken his wish, for wishes to come true they had to be spoken! Yet people believed that to tell someone your birthday wish would negate it. That had to be a falsehood put into popular mysticism to keep the wishes from happening. Maybe that's why it never worked. With this insight Heather knew exactly what she wanted to wish for. She began to speak softly so those around the table could hear her.
"I wish the Leprechaun, who a girl me changed;
meet Mother Superior Murphy, arranged!
Then she'll believe my magical sex-change tale;
there is more to this wish, sent through ether mail.
On unhappy inhibited males, tragic;
force Leprechaun O'Shea to use his magic.
Transform those poor boys into sweet happy girls;
who live out their lives in soft satin and curls.
As Mother Superior Erin Murphy;
and/or I wish it, so be nature's decree!"
Then she sucked in a breath of air and blew out all the candles. At that instant, a few miles away, snug in his hobbit-like burrow, the dozing weakened Leprechaun snapped awake. Someone had cast a magic spell about him! Closing his eyes, he concentrated upon the magic, following the magical eddies through the ether to its source. There he saw a happy smiling pretty human girl surrounded by other smiling happy pretty humans. That didn't make any sense. Humans were non-magical beings. They couldn't cast magic spells. After a few moments of confusion, recognition dawned upon him. The pretty girl wasn't really a girl at all! She was Heather, formerly Heath. She should be sulking in horror and frustration at being changed into a girl. Yet he could see the happy girl was undeniably pretty and with the people he'd wished her to be with. A frown crossed his face. She had grown to like her girlhood too quickly. The boyish anguish and frustration he'd expected to feed upon to strengthen and renew his life essence had not been enough. No wonder he was still so weak. But there was even worse to come. Normally a human's wish carried virtually no magical strength and came to naught. However Heather was still heavily immersed in the magic he'd cast to grant Heath's three wishes. Since she'd accepted her girlishness so quickly without the amount of anguish and frustration he'd expected, there remained about her a powerful amount of unused magic... his magic! Even so, in similar cases, a human wish would normally fizzle and burn up the lingering magic since it needed a magical being to focus the magic power to make the wish come true. Since her ersatz birthday wish concerned him, Heather had unwittingly tapped into that magic and had sent it spiraling back to him! Normally, a Leprechaun could resist magic directed against him, but in his weakened state and since the magic had originally been his, her wish became a quest upon him. He shivered as he felt her wish become a compulsion that he would have to continually fulfill. Much to his amazement, the wish also restored his full life essence. Apparently Mother Gia had approved the wish as it spiraled through the ether to him and had added to the wish. As he stretched his renewed senses, he realized that cooperating with Heather's wish would not deplete his precious life essence. As long as he used his magic to transform unhappy inhibited males into sweet happy girls, he had virtually unlimited powers! He had pretty Heather to thank for this. He was now the most powerful Leprechaun alive... as long as he did as Heather and Mother Superior Erin Murphy ordered.
That bothered him quite a bit, but he realized that he had no choice in this matter. Mother Gia had warned him about messing with a human's gender back when he'd twisted 13 year old Eric Murphy's three wishes forty years ago to force that teenage boy into a feminine life. Briefly he wondered what had ever become of that transformed lad. Immediately he knew! How bizarre life was! Heather had commanded him to reveal himself to Mother Superior Murphy to not only verify the veracity of her tale about encountering a Leprechaun, but to also allow her to wish boys into girls! Mother Superior Erin Murphy had been born Eric Murphy! She was the boy whose three wishes he had twisted forty years ago!
Meanwhile back at the restaurant, Leslie smiled and said, "I hope your wish comes true."
"I hope so too," Joyce added.
"I'm sure Mother Superior Erin Murphy will be delighted if your wish comes true," Hillary chuckled. "I can see her really getting into Leprechauns and things like that."
The cake was delicious. It didn't take long for the dessert to disappear. As they finished off the last morsel, the mother who had admonished her sons for laughing when the wind had tossed Heather's skirt approached the table with the two very red faced boys firmly in tow. The father sheepishly followed.
"Please excuse us for interrupting," the woman began in a very apologetic tone. "I'm Grace Henry. I'm sorry to say that these two heathens are my sons Alec and James. The ingrate behind them is my husband Richard. I feel compelled to apologize for their crude behavior, especially since it's your birthday. Boys!"
The red-faced boys shuffled forward. It was more than obvious they had received a royal butt chewing. Their heads were lowered with their eyes glued to the floor. The expressions on their faces was one of dejection and humiliation. They stood before the table beside Heather's chair like doomed prisoners awaiting the executioner's noose.
"We're sorry," Alec mumbled after a nudge from his mother.
"That was totally unacceptable," Grace intoned with an acid tongue as everyone in the immediate area watched. "Look at the young lady and speak clearly."
Alec swallowed what little remained of his pride and slowly raised his face to peer at Heather. It was clear he was being forced into this apology. "I'm sorry that I was so rude to you outside. Please forgive me."
James promptly followed suit. As he took his turn, he shivered with fear and apprehension. "I'm sorry that I was so rude to you outside. Please forgive me."
The boys stood before Heather like whipped puppies. Heather knew their humiliation and that things would not be easy for them the next few days. With the knowledge of her boyish past she pitied the macho duo. With the growing pleasure in her girlhood she thrilled to have such cowed boys before her, awaiting her judgement. It gave her a sense of great power. "I'll accept your apology if you also promise to be more considerate of girls in the future. Perhaps you wouldn't be so hasty to laugh if you knew what it was like to wear a dress."
The boys looked aghast. The mere idea that they might wear a dress made them quake with abject terror. They knew their mother, now that she'd heard the insane suggestion, would not pass up using such a golden opportunity to further humble them.
The mother looked thoughtful. "I think the young lady is being quite reasonable," Grace intoned. "Her suggestion has a great deal of merit. I'll give the subject my full consideration. Now, boys, you heard the young lady. What do you have to say?"
With no hesitation both lads complied. "I promise to be more considerate of girls in the future," they exclaimed in unison. It was clear that they meant every word... at least for the time being. They were now quite desperate to please their mother in the hope that she would not consider Heather's suggestion they experience wearing a dress.
"Richard," Grace announced.
The boys quicky slipped behind their mother to allow their father to come forward. The red faced man looked totally whipped. "Miss, please accept my apology for chuckling at your misfortune," he began in a contrite voice. "I should have known better and set a proper example for my boys. It's my fault they were so crude. Please, don't blame them, blame me."
It was clear that the man was quite pussy whipped. "I'll accept your apology," Heather replied. "Chauvinism is a thing of the past and should be promptly destroyed every time it rears it's ugly head."
"Indeed," Hillary joined in. "Grace, I thank you for coming over to apologize. It takes a strong woman to control three males. I admire that strength. Let me introduce myself. I'm Hillary Balkut. This young lady is my daughter Leslie Balkut. The young miss is my ward, Heather Lynne Reilly. This is the girls' governess, Joyce Moore."
"We're pleased to meet you," Grace replied as the males fidgeted uncomfortably. "If I may be so forward, perhaps you would consent to meeting under more appropriate circumstances. I'm sure my boys would benefit greatly from the influence of two such sweet, proper young ladies."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Hillary agreed. "I know the girls will look forward to meeting your boys under better circumstances. Perhaps next Saturday, if you're free, you could join us for a formal English Tea about 3:30 p.m.?"
"We'd be delighted," Grace enthused as the boys quailed.
"But Mom," Alec whined. "Saturday is the big game between Penn State and Michigan. It'll be the best game of the season."
"Well that's just too bad," Grace intoned in a sickeningly sweet voice. "You should have thought of the consequences when you were so rude to this nice young miss. Richard!"
The boys visibly wilted. The prospect of being forced to wear a dress seemed to loom before them. They both quailed at the very concept.
"Yes, we'd be delighted to join you," the beaten man replied quickly in response to his wife's curtness. "Please, let me pick up the tab for your luncheon as a token of our apology and as a birthday present for the young lady."
"I normally don't allow such things," Hillary replied as she looked at Grace who was nodding her head. "But under the circumstances, I don't see how I could refuse."
Grace and Hillary exchanged telephone numbers and addresses while Richard took care of the bill. The poor man turned white when he saw the total. After paying the bill plus tip, he'd only have ten dollars remaining in his wallet. Heather's wind tossed skirt cost the man $250.00. But that was cheap compared to what costs awaited.
Once they had returned to their car, Hillary began to laugh. "If your wish about the Leprechaun comes true, I think Alec and James might qualify for your first transformations. Perhaps even their father, I'm sure Dr. Trate would love to create another girl like Candi."
They all chuckled. Heather felt a twinge of guilt as she thought about possibly seeing Alec and James join her in skirts. But it was nothing compared to the elation she felt in her newfound power of femininity.
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I think I got caught up to something. :)Portia
Portia