The girls/guys go to an African hair braiding parlor and compete in their first Challenge.
 

Dad picked me up from school wearing a velvet plush sweat suit that was really tight and showed off all of his developing curves. His butt looked so sexy and he was just my gorgeous black momma. He was wearing sheer pantyhose under his sweat pants. Dad told me that Fiona had some plans for us this afternoon so we were going home to meet up with her. I sat in the car, smoothing my plaid skirt over my white tights, eagerly anticipating what she could have in store for us. We had had so many neat surprises on our journey towards becoming black women.

My little brother ran out of the door carrying his bookbag and purse. He was adorable in his jumper and his skirt was swishing as he was skipping down the sidewalk with two white girls. If we had to be girls, at least we got to be popular girls.

When we got home I took off my schoolgirl uniform and left on nothing but my pink lingerie and my white tights. I grabbed black top that had the words HOTTIE spelled out across the bust in rhinestones and pulled it on. I opted for a very short denim mini-skirt that showed off every inch of my sexy legs in their ivory hose. I put on a pair of dress sandels with spiked heels. The heels made me walk with danity steps and they pushed up my butt and made my figure look even more feminine. Fiona came in to check on my outfit and my makeup and she decreed me fit to go to our surprise. She looked cute in a tight green dress and orange pantyhose. She was like a second mom to me and I was coming to love her. I really liked her sense of style and I was sad that soon I would have to go back to being a white boy and surrender my long, nappy hair, tights, bras, tits, and my pretty outfits. She made sure to smooth out my tights because I had a couple wrinkles in my hose.

Despite the fact that I was for all intents and purposes a fully functioning black girl, I still had my old "urges" of when I was a guy. I would pretty much have to wait to masturbate until Fiona was done training us for the night. But I found myself fantasizing about dancing the Nutcracker on stage in my pretty pink tights and tutu, being held in the arms of my strong male partner during the pas de deux. All of this training was having an effect on me. I would think of how good and comforting my little tights and leotards were as I pretended to be as girly as possible at dance class, and then, I would climax.

My brother had changed into a similar velvet tracksuit like my dad was still wearing, except his was red and he was wearing some regular pantyhose underneath. We all grabbed our purses and headed out to drive to our unknown destination.

We drove for about 20 minutes to a part of the town we hadn't been to previously. This area looked a little more run down and "ghetto" than or manicured suburban area where we had been staying at. We drove a few blocks down the main road and pulled into a dirty strip mall. We parked up next to a small store, and this store had a sign out front that said, "AABC hair braiding." So we knew we were in for an afternoon of beauty. Pictures of black women with complicated do's festooned the windows.

As guys, we were a little nervous but excited at the same time of continued experiments on our looks. We saw a row of salon chairs and there were a few black women in there ready to style some hair. My dad's hair was long enough now to try a new style and I was wondering what they were going to do to me. There were pictures of black women everywhere inside the beauty shop, just to remind us and give us ideas for what kind of hairdo we might like. There were racks of beauty products everywhere. Rap music blared from the radio. It was a strange new world.

One of the black women walked up to me and introduced herself to me as Kimmy. "You look really cute," she said to me. I didn't know if she knew that I was really a white boy. She told me to go into the bathroom and remove my tights so she could paint my toenails. The other two women were going to be individual stylists for my dad and brother. We were kind of shy and said little but deep down we knew we wanted to take this next step on the road to womanhood.

So we all went through the process of shedding our hose, letting us get our nails painted, getting our legs waxed, and putting our tights back on. When we came back out, the salon girls gave us all botox injections in our foreheads, and now our ebony skin was shiny and free of wrinkles. Then, they shot a mysterious substance into our upper and lower lips, so now we had nice, full, pouty, big lips like black girls are supposed to have. The structure of our faces was now that of black women instead of white guys. We wondered if we could ever go back. Kimmy explained to me that after we were done on the show that they could drain the collagen if we so wanted(so she knew that we were guys.)

Us guys were then told to sit down in chairs and we had our ears pierced. We all had big hoop earrings put into our ears. The ladies explained to us how we had to keep a stud in all the time or else the holes would seal up. But we were all happy to have piercings and our earrings helped to develop our black-girl personality and give us some flair. Dad couldn't get over how his lips and ears looked. We all found ourselves humming along to the beat of the rap music as we were being worked on.

The three of us sat in salon chairs and the stylists vigorously went to work on us. They trimmed my eyebrows and put some makeup on me. They decided to straighten out my hair and give me some highlights, and Kimmy put some strange creams on my scalp and used hot irons to straighten out my mahogany locks. I just sat there and watched myself get prettier and prettier, and I realized that I looked like a cross between Beyonce and Tyra Banks, but with much darker skin. I was a little chocolate hotcha. I imagined myself as a stripper in lingerie and hold-ups giving lap dances to college guys. My dad was having his now longer hair brushed out into a short, boyish, but very sexy pageboy style, and I couldn't get over how he resembled Michelle Obama. I knew it wouldn't be long before he was the arm candy of a basketball player. Fiona observed with approval as us white guys, who once wouldn't have given her a second thought, were being transformed into totally demure and kittenish black ladies in our pretty tights. She doted on Kendra, who was having some work done on his complexion and bangs, and his hair seemed much fuller and less stringy than it had been. These hair products they were using gave "body" to our new hairdos.

"I think it is so great, getting to doll up a guy," said Kimmy, "You boys just make totally convincing women. I hope you guys decide to stay as black women instead of changing back to white guys. I can tell that you three were just made to be feminine. It would be a shame to lose three such pretty women."

Kimmy was just finishing up with my hairstyle, and I thought that it was wonderful. The blonde highlights were a kick ass finishing touch. As new women with pierced ears, big lips, and other new developments, our little family got into the minivan and drove to get some dinner.

We decided to go to Chili's and we went in and took our seats. A group of 30-something businessmen could do nothing but ogle dad, and a group of teenage white boys couldn't keep their eyes off my tights. They were totally more tolerant about the whole interracial thing in New England than they had been in Tennessee. Even though we were hungry and wanted burgers and fries, we had to order salads and sparkling water so we could keep our figures. This was one of the few times so far we had really been out in public around real women and we spent alot of time checking out their outfits and comparing ourselves to them. But we weren't thinking about all the girls in there or our waitress in a sexual way.

Fiona had us practicing our table manners and promised us severe trouble if we didn't put our napkins in our laps, keep our legs crossed, or chew with our mouths closed and take small bites. It was totally turned upside down from when we used to order mountains of fried foods and shove it in our mouths with no decorum. What we were doing was enjoying ourselves as Monique, Brandy, and Kendra, the Washington family.

We had an ettiquite lesson after dinner and we drove to the home of an old lady, Mrs. Miller. Mrs. Miller had been informed of our "situation" in advance. Mrs. Miller commented to us on how beautiful we looked and what a good job we had done becoming women, as judged by our before and after photos.

We practiced walking in high heels with a book on our head and basic balance exercises. We learned the right way to wave, elbow/elbow/wrist/wrist/. She explained to us how to be dainty and feminine in all of our body movements, and we had to practice being graceful when we stood up and sat down. Then, Mrs. Miller told us that at parties, we had to be good hostesses and confine our conversation to cooking, fashion, and other domestic issues. Things like politics, sports, and business were men's issues and we had no business bringing them up, if we were ever going to be proper ladies. It was a lot to take in, but it was incredible how much we had managed to learn in just two weeks. Mrs. Miller showed us the proper way to manage sitting in a short skirt, like I was wearing.

Fiona gave us the night off from any lessons, so myself and Kendra went into dad's room and he let us try on some of his clothes. My brother and I put on a few of his big girl dresses, and dad was having fun getting to help develop his teenage daughters. We still couldn't get over our new styles. I was amazed at the eclectic selection of outfits that dad was allocated by the show. He had all sorts of colorful patterened dresses and I fell in love with a white dress with green flowers and posed in the mirror for the longest time, still wearing my tights underneath. Then, I got to put on dad's blue ballerina tutu with the massive starched pinifore and dad helped me lace up the back. We stayed up well until 11PM just making light girl talk. I described to him how my first cheer practice had gone and how we all had to wear tights under our little cheer briefs. He sat there listening to me like I was telling him the location of the fountain of youth when I described all the preppy girls, of which I was one, doing our little routine in our costumes. He said he couldn't wait to see our first performance.

Kendra and I showed our dad all of our black Barbie and Bratz dolls and we told them what we had named them and gave them their story narratives "Desperate Housewives" style. We let dad brush their hair with us. Previously, we listened to country music, but now we had some deep soul on the radio.

We all put on pink nighties and fell asleep in dad's bed, cradled in his arms. We turned the TV on the Lifetime channel as we drifted off to sleep and watched a presentation of "How Stella Got her Groove Back." We fell asleep with dreams of going out clubbing dressed as black women, grinding sexily on all the guys at the club and being taken home by some young stud to be pleasured.

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On Thursday morning before school, I decided to dress up like I was allowed to and I chose a black/white/gray checkerboard pattern dress with short sleeves and a skirt that ended just below my crotch. As I was dressing, I found myself humming bars of rap music. I put on white tights underneath and I was wearing a blue bra and panty set underneath. I put on a pair of black heels I had. I chose a gold necklace, some bracelets, and a few rings that were in my jewelry box and put them on. I wanted to look as sexy as possible and this was my first chance to really show off my new style. Dad and Fiona came in to check on me before I went off to school. Dad was already in his Hooters uniform for another day. I could tell by the look on his face that he disapproved of his daughter showing so much leg but Fiona told him that it was OK. "All the girls wear tight short skirts nowadays," she reassured him. In any case, I don't see how he could really say anything being in orange hot pants and pantyhose going off to serve cocktails.

I wanted to put my long hair into a ponytail but Fiona told me that I was hotter with my hair down. My brother came out of his room in a blue sailor dress with white tights and he was so enthused to go and see what all of his girlfriends were wearing on "free dress day." I thought to myself that it was going to be nice to "scrub" to school tomorrow and just get to relax in a T-Shirt and sweats for a change.

Krystal thought I was really cute at school and she was wearing a purple top with a long pink skirt and ankle socks. She reminded me that we had a Future Homemakers of America right after school, and then her parents would give me a ride to ballet. Fiona had been thoughtful enough to put a leotard, spare pair of tights, and my ballet slippers for me in my pink book bag.

At 2:30 PM we went up to Ms. Widmore's room where our FHA meeting was to take place. Ms. Widmore was the home ed. teacher. From the classroom window I could look out and see the guys getting ready for football practice and I thought to myself how I should have been out there smashing muscles instead of in here talking about what giving birth was going to be like. Here I was in my little dress with barettes in my long hair and wearing white nylons. Nine other girls sat around in a circle and we talked about cooking, sewing, makeup tips, and everything we would need to know when we were dutifully married, faithful housewives. My little brother was in his part of the school, no doubt in a little Junior Miss class getting his feet wet as a black woman.

Ms. Widmore asked me how I felt about a woman's right to choose and I said that it was my duty as a woman to give my husband as many kids as he wanted. The other girls in the group agreed with me; so much for feminism. I told the group how I couldn't wait to be a mother to a bunch of little ducklings. I imagined myself working in the kitchen wearing a pencil skirt and an apron as my man came home from the office, and I would have his dinner ready for him and I would iron his clothes as he went out to the bar with his buddies. Then, he would come home and I would satisfy his sexual needs but I would go unfulfilled.

I was confusing myself and I knew that this dualism couldn't really be me. Part of me was the guy who dreamed of becoming a high-powered attorney, but now I began to contemplate a different future for myself as a glorified domestic housewife. I decided that I would just let the next couple years play out and I would see which direction I wanted to take. If I decided I wasn't happy as a guy when I got back out into the real world, I would again become a woman(a white woman this time.) Women have it easier anyway. Guys have the responsibility to ask girls out and women get all the benefits of Affirmative Action. For now, I was just going to leave everything up in the air and see how I felt after the pagent.

I had been contemplating my future in a way that I had never before done in my life. This choice was going to be tougher than I had anticipated when I was first made over into Brandy. Krystal's parents picked up my brother and I and gave us a ride to the ballet studio. They dropped us off and the three of us black girls went into the bathroom to change. I shed my dress and pulled on the orange leotard with an attached skirt that Fiona had packed for me. I took off my high heels and tied on my pointe shoes. Kendra put on a red, longsleeved leotard with ribbing, and Krystal pulled on a pair of white tights an a pink leotard. It was utterly fascinating for a new girl like me to watch a real girl like Krystal put on her tights with such professionalism. She was so attractive and I was getting to watch her change. But she had no clue that I was really a guy and that I kind of wanted to date her. The three of us sat in a small circle and we all put our hair up into buns to keep our locks off of our shoulders and faces. We were just pretty girls helping eachother get ready. The three of us were soon in our slippers and we headed out to join the rest of the girls.

Zafira had come in wearing a baby blue leotard with ivory tights, and she excitedly waved me over. I noticed when I ran or walked fast, I sort of skipped and moved bouncingly. But she just looked so adorable, and I was ready to make a move and asked her out, but I realized that I couldn't because I was in Brandy mode. All I said was, "Hiya Girlfriend," in my best Brandy voice.

Amanda had called all the girls together into a group circle. She had a bunch of big cardboard boxes and she told us excitedly that our uniforms for our performance of "Sleeping Beauty" had arrived. I would be considered one of the younger girls and be a lilac-fairy. I was a little disappointed that I would not get to try out for a more prominent part, but I really had no chance because between both studios in town there were girls that had been dancing for 15 years. I would still get a small solo and get to partner with a guy dancer, so all was not so bad. I was looking forward to impressing my dad with how feminine I could be in a tutu during a ballet performance. Also, I could dance next to Zafira.

Amanda said, "In case an older can't participate, one of the younger girls could get a chance to audition for a lead role." So I had hope. I wanted my father to see me make my total transformation to a gorgeous black ballerina. My dad would get to dance a minor part in the ballet as well, but it would be a bit part and he would just get to watch most of the show. His time to shine as Monique would be at the pagent.

So Amanda opened the boxes and had all the girls form a line. I was first in line and she handed me a white leotard with long sleeves, and then she pulled a giant fluffy ring out and I knew that it was the tutu I was at least going to wear. She also gave me a package of three pairs of white tights. Each one of us was given a plasic tiara to wear. I was really excited about the costume and I couldn't wait to try it on. I was so going to model it for dad and if he was lucky he would get to wear it around the house; if he asked nicely of course!

When all of us girls were issued our costumes, Amanda instructed us to go back into the ladies' room and put them on so we could come back out and rehearse the steps for Sleeping Beauty. Excitedly, us girls rushed 'en masse' and began to change. I quickly dropped my orange leotard and pulled on the white one. I noticed that my tutu had a lacy panty bottom so I figured I just had to step into it like a pair of shorts. I put in both feet and pulled it up over my crotch and made sure the elastic waistband was tight around my waist. The tutu was about 1 inch thick of lace and stuck out straight for two feet in any direction and was about six feet in circumference. I glanced in the mirror and noticed just how sexy it made my legs look in white tights.

Zafira, the good little dancer she was, was having no trouble changing, but I got to catch a brief glimpse of her small budding breasts as she was pulling on her new white leotard. I got to see her bra and the tops of her tights and the cute little white panties she was wearing. It was nice to feel like a guy for a little bit again and check out girls. I got to look around the bathroom and observe the girls and boys/girls in various stages of dressing.

Kendra was making it look easy pulling on his tutu and Krystal was already helping a younger black girl who was struggling getting her leotard back on. Krystal helped her pull on her tutu. Leticia and Chondra were already in lilac fairy mode. We all put our tiara's on our heads and flashed big smiles. I was primping myself and putting some touches on my makeup. I was making sure that my tights were straight when I looked over and saw Tiffany in the corner still struggling putting her leotard on over her tights. Tiffany was only 12 and she was the littlest boy/girl in the competition. I didn't really want to help out a competitor, but I felt so bad for her and I went over and gently helped guide the leotard up over her purple bra and I helped her get her arms in the sleeves.

Tiffany started crying to me. "I'm just struggling so much with all this. These outfits are so hard to dress myself in. I hate wearing tights and dancing and being girly. Last night I had to wear an empathy suit and pretend I was pregnant. I miss being a guy and running around the neighborhood. I wasn't meant for this and I can't do this."

"There there Tiff," I consoled her as I guided her feet into the legs of her tutu, "All of us are having a hard time. None of us really want to be here wearing panties and being princesses. We're all still boys deep down. They can change our outside appearence but deep down we are all still men. It is what is on the inside that counts. For now, lets just enjoy dancing."

Tiffany seemed somewhat happier as I helped get her tutu on straight. She told me how much fun at least her dad was having doing all of this stuff. He had been given a job as a cocktail waitress at an upscale bar and he was just loving doing all of this crossrdressing. Tiffany said that her dad had been a secret crossdresser before all of this and was just thrilled to death to be here and that this was the absolute greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Tiffany was sure that her dad would never go back to being Jim and would be Jennilee for the rest of his life.

Tiffany's brother Chondra, formerly Charlie, had actually been a tap dancer as a guy, so I knew it wasn't just my eyes fooling me when I saw how good he was at some dance steps. I put the Tiara in Tiffany's frizzy hair and we skipped out of the bathroom and back out to rehearsal.

So here we were, 20 girls in tutus and tights. Amanda had us go through some warmups, but I was surprised at just how simple the backup roles for Sleeping Beauty really were. Most of it was just standing around and posing and looking pretty, like background decor. However, I would definitely take my chance if I had an opportunity to audition for a more prominent part. I would get to dance with a hot guy, but more importantly, I would get more camera exposure and the home audiences would see me dancing the lead female role in a ballet. The name and face recognition would surely garner points for Brandy Washington!

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Kendra and I wore our Tutus in the car all of the way home. I forcasted myself, once my tan wore off and I was back home, getting made over into a blonde white woman named Melissa. I would keep taking hormones but I would let my skin and hair revert back to their natural fair color. By that time, I would have grown full breasts of my own and I would still have the legs of Brandy Washington. I would be a southern belle and I would go to balls and such things that my sister did when she was a debutante.

I would go to ballet class as Melissa Thompson and wear all of my pretty outfits. I would audition for a school like Juliard and eventually, hopefully, become a prima ballerina. Melissa Thompson would headline as Giselle with her Lesbian parents Melanie and Joanna and her sisters Julie and Kelly watching her dance ever so gracefully. But I would have to work my way through school and I would get a job at Hooters wearing the sexy shorts! Either this or I would go back to being Mike and pursue athletic scholarships. My future looked so bright no matter which way I went.

Melissa would have radiant long blond hair and would be the image of feminity. I would miss being a black girl named Brandy, and I kind of wondered to myself if I could just remain as Brandy for the rest of my life. My choices were so tough.

I almost wasn't listening as dad described the black tutu/dress he had been issued for the ballet. His tutu was the exact same style as ours, except it was pitch black and he had been given a black leotard and a tiara to wear. I just saw two black bunheads in the front seat. Kendra was going on and on about how good of a dancer that they both were going to be but I was just lost in thought in the back seat, kicking my tighted legs in the air and fluffing my bunched tutu about my waist. I could tell that Kendra was just loving this whole experience and I was wondering if my little brother Kevin was gone forever. I noticed my black, made-up face in the rear view mirror and wondered if that would be me for the rest of my life. It was totally surreal.

The three of us walked in the floor looking like little flowers. Fiona was delighted to see us, and she had our empathy suits ready for us. We grabbed a quick snack and then joined Fiona in Dad's bedroom. Three leotards with bellies awaited us on the bed. We were all still in our tutus, just looking as girly as could be.

Fiona first described to us how females masturbate by stimulating their labias by hand or with a didlo. Since we did not have vaginas, we couldn't practice but she just wanted us to be aware of how we were supposed to please ourselves as women. We had to fantasize about our outfits and the men in our lives. It was unfortunate that we still retained our hidden penises under all of our feminine finery and the show did not have the authority to give us an actual sex change so we could go "all the way." She gave each of us our own personal big black didlo and told us to practice sucking on them or stroking ourselves with them in our own free time. If we were bold enough, we could stick them up our heinies and experience anal sex. As women, especially ones without vaginal cavities, we would probalby have to allow our male partners to make whoopie in our butts. Since we couldn't be penetrated from the front, we had to be entered from behind. It was our duties to be the penetratee, and not the penetrator, even though we still retained our manhood. We were learning so much more than we ever had learned in sex ed. or health class. I would have killed for this kind of information as a boy. I would be so good with girls my age when I would again be a male. I would know exactly how to please them and bring them to orgasm, because I would have had the practice on myself.

"Strip off your tights and leotards and grab an empathy suit," ordered Fiona. The suits were that of women's abdomens about 8 months pregnant. They were pretty much dark brown nylon leotards except for a big heavy bulge in the middle. I realized that even if I became a full time woman, that I could never have kids of my own, so I would have to adopt. Still, I would see just what my mother went through to create me and I would appreciate her much more when I went back.

We took off our tights, bras, and panties and each of us grabbed a suit. The biggest one was obviously for dad. I put both legs into the holes and pulled the heavy garment up over my tits. I put my arms through the spaghetti shoulder straps. The empathy suit was the same shade as my skin and I looked in the mirror and saw a naked, pregnant, black female wearing a tiara.

Dad got up his empathy suit and then helped his son Kendra get his on all the way. This was even weirder than our dildo training but it was absolutely fascinating in a way. We were men in uncharted territory; pregnant black women.

"Put all of your dance clothes back on," Fiona ordered firmly. I stepped back into my bra and panties and then I pulled my tights back up to my fat waist. My suit was weighing me down and must have weighed 20 pounds. This was going to be tough. Fortunately for us, our leotards were stretchy enough to fit over our pregnant belles and soon we were back in full sleeping beauty costume. We were now three pregnant ebony ballerinas. It was so weird seeing my dad and brother looking like this. We stared at eachother in absolute amazement.

"For the next two weeks," said Fiona, "You three will have to wear your empathy suit whenever you are inside the house, You will get to take it off when you go outside for any activity, but you girls will feel what women have to go through to give birth."

It was going to be hard to sleep now, and I had lost my sexy figure for the next few days so I wouldn't really be able to model any of my clothes on my own time. We had all been so busy the last couple of weeks that we barely had any time to think or reflect. My dad was now my mom and my brother was my sister. But we just had to drive forwards and do whatever was asked of us so we could win the money. We filed off to our rooms to get ready for bed and another day of feminine fun. Fiona reminded us that we had our next "challenge" coming up this weekend, as well as our debutante ball on Saturday night!!!!!!

TO BE CONTINUED........................