WE find out what is going on with Kendra.
 

ONE WEEK AGO:

As we were doing as a family, we all stayed in our leotards and tights for the night. I had kept on the orange tiger striped leotard that Fi had chosen for me earlier. I had decided just to spend my off night in my room reading my girlie mags, but I got bored and went to see what my dad and brother were up to.

I went into dad's room and saw them cuddled on the bed having a girl talk. The conversation was pretty tame at first but dad got to asking us about if we were playing with our dildos. I was horrified when Fiona had given me one and I had thrown it in the top of my pantyhose drawer and I hadn't touched it

"So Kendra," my dad asked me, "Have you been using your dildo?"

"Yes mommy," I lied.

But then dad explained to us how we had to really experience anal sex and practice with our dildos in order to be ready to do our duty for our future husbands. I was terrified at the thought of actually being with a man. I had thought that we were only in this for half of a year. But it seemed as if my dad and brother had other plans for our future. Mabye the Thompson family wasn't coming back. Deep down, I had been fighting all of these changes but I was so powerless to resist. I had just gone with the flow and gave the answers my dad wanted to hear. I had always been afraid to disagree with Joe and I had decided it would just be the best for me if I went along with the program and hopefully I would come out in one piece.

It was not all bad, of course. I was just aghast the first day, but being a girl had its good parts. I did like wearing some of the cute little outfits and at least I got to be around the hot girls all day. Preppy girls previously wouldn't give me the time of day but now they wanted to chat all of the time. I did like the feeling of things like nylons and leotards but by the time this was over I was going back to Kevin with no questions asked. In the challenge, had decided to impress dad so I tried as hard as I could and picked up 11 phone numbers. I was sort of taken by surprise when Jamal had asked me out to the dance the other day but I accepted because that Craig guy had given me a cue that I had to take up Jamal's proposal and if I didn't we would be punished as a family.

I was enjoying being dressed by Fiona. All of my sports and video games and boy's toys had been taken away so I had nothing really to do buy play with the girl stuff and read those magazines. I would practice my dance moves and such things but deep down I was just counting down the days until this was all over.

I was lost in such thoughts as dad kept on talking. "What are you girls going to do when it comes time to please your men. We don't have vaginas of our own, so we have to allow our husbands to make whoopie in our heinies. Why don't you girls just let me practice on you. Come on, we'll do it together as a family. We have to master the skills Fiona wants us to learn."

Brandy seemed excited and said, "OK mommy." She got up and stood at the side of the bed. I was silently petrified. Dad retrieved his dildo from his tights drawer. The last thing I ever wanted to do was really be dating some guy. Life was so unfair. I wanted to be out playing baseball, not dress-up. Couldn't they see that I was a boy and that I couldn't be changed?

I watched as dad pulled down my brother's dancewear. My dad put some lotion in his butt and then he began to gently slide the tube into Brandy. She seemed to like it. After my dad was satisfied that Brandy had gotten the experience, he said to me, "Okay sweetie, its your turn."

He pulled off my leotard and gathered my dancewear down at my knees, exposing me. He oiled me up and I felt the thing enter me from the rear. It felt alot better than I had thought it would. So this was what women and queers went through. I began to get excited.

"I love being a girl!!!," I shouted out in sudden ecstasy. I felt dirty and weird but I couldn't help myself. I realized that hidden cameras in the room were filming us but I was sure that they couldn't air this on national television. Dad took my tights and pulled them back up over my butt and then he gently helped me get my leotard back on. I realized just how loving he was as a mother, and how much he enjoyed helping his daughters be female and dress us up and do our hair. We were all somewhat exhilirated.

After the moment had passed and we were all calmed down, we all jumped back up on the bed. Dad asked us, "So do either of you think that you'll date guys all the time?"

"Mommy," I replied, "Deep down, I'm still a boy, and I like girls." I saw a look of disappointment in his face when I answered. This whole thing was so confusing. I had no idea what I was doing here. I wasn't even thinking about the prize or the pagent or winning anymore. I just wanted to keep my sanity, my manhood, and get the hell out of here. What the hell were we doing; three guys in white tights and the cutest little leotards. Dad held onto the dildo, just stroking it and rubbing it against his smooth crotch as we continued to talk. Brandy went and got hers and fondled it like she was playing with a Game Boy. Her little butt looked really cute as she sauntered off, black legs and white tights and a curvy figure being held in by a leopard-print leotard; the bottom riding up her butt. Our manhoods had totally vanished under our nylon sheaths. Ahh, whatever happened to our boxer shorts. Why did everything about women's clothes and ballet dancewear have to be about sex? It seemed like the main thing about dressing as a woman was coyly advertising our curvy physiques so guys would notice us. Three guys in white tights playing with sex toys; Great.

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Brandy had been going on and on for the last week about how she was going to try out for the role of the Heroine in Sleeping Beauty. I told her that she had no chance against the 17 year old ballerinas but she had been practicing all of the steps anyway and was determined. I was so sick of hearing her go on and on about being Sleeping Beauty and the halftime routine she was going to perform at the halftime dance and how great here FHA meetings were. "You are a guy for god sakes," I thought. What are you doing getting so excited about all of this black girl stuff. We weren't meant to actually like being female. The point of this show was to film us struggling to pull on our tights and put on our bras and to silently resist our coaches. And my dad was a regular black June Cleaver. Back home, we would hear nothing but taunts about us wearing panties and kissing guys. We'd have to move to Romania to get far enough away?

"You're not even a real girl," I told him, "What makes you think you have any chance against Kelly or Cynthia?"

He didn't even answer my question and he mentioned how he wished Shane Johnson, captain of the basketball team, could see him now.

So my big retarded older brother/sister was getting ready at the dance studio to audition. I was sitting in there, as bored as I could be, wearing black tights and a purple leotard with ruffles at my shoulders and pink trim around the bottom. I realized how exposed my legs were and the outfit was showing off my entire figure. I was glad at least I was thin and didn't have to be embarassed about being a heavy girl in leotards and tights. I just sat there in a folding chair kicking my legs while we watched the older girls go on and on and try out for the big roles.

"Have you talked to Jamal since the dance," dad asked me?

"We broke up," I said curtly, not wanting to discuss boys with him.

"Oh, sorry to hear that," he said, "Is everything all right."

"Its fine," I snapped. I hoped he would think his "daughter" was just going through a phase and her mom would mind her own business. Truthfully, I was getting fed up with just how gay or queer or whatever dad was becoming. Here he was, a 37 year old guy, dressed like Michelle Obama at a ballet class, in a white cap-sleeve leotard spangled with red roses and wearing white tights. This whole thing was a girly nightmare that no guy should have to endure. Say what you want about role-reversals in 21st century America. Men are still men and women are still women, even if Hillary Clinton is running for President. I wondered if 20 years down the road gender roles would reverse all across America and all women would work and guys would be expected to clean, cook, and raise children. I was still an old-school guy at heart. They would never change me.

My brother was in the bathroom fixing his makeup and pulling his hair back before it was his turn. It was one year ago to the day that he was going for the 1st chair bantam-weight class in Wrestling. To me, he seemed way more excited about ballet auditions than he had about any of his old sports. Honestly, if he wanted to stay as a black girl, that was fine with me, but he or my dad wouldn't take me with them.

I had to admit that my brother was an absolute angel when he came out and took his place on the dance floor. He was absolutely captivating in a baby pink long-sleeved leotard with an attached pink short skirt with white roses. He had on white tights and pointe shoes. The bright pink and white colors were quite a contrast with his ebony skin and hair. Yes, Mike was gone, replaced by Brandy, a teenage black ballerina who loved to wear cute tights and date guys. I knew at least he would do comparably well at the pagent because he had become so beautiful and feminine. I can't say I would blame him if he wanted to stay a girl. He seemed much happier, more accepted, and well adjusted as Brandy than he had as an agressive boy who kept getting rejected by girls he was trying to ask out. Brandy got to spend all his time with Zafira and Krystal, but I couldn't tell if he was interested in them as far as dating or if he considered himself female like them and just wanted to be regular friends. Heck, perhaps he hadn't even made up his mind yet. But he was every inch the black girl he had dreamed of becoming.

It all made sense to me as I thought back to when Mom kept dressing him in my older sister's ballet clothes. I was only eight years old then and I remembered how much fun Mike was having as mom would spin him around the room in his sister's tights and dresses. "Of course," I realized, "Mike had been secretly loving this the whole time and had been a closet crossdresser for the last five years!" All of the pieces of the puzzle fit together. This was paradise for Mike/Brandy. I knew that my dad was every bit as passionate about this contest as Brandy was and I was outnumbered.

Then, I remembered when he modeled his Junior Varsity cheerleading outfit yesterday. Brandy had little blue and white ribbons in her hair and the skirt of her jumper was sinfully short; The girls had been issued blue briefs to wear underneath. He had on sheer hose under the blue jumper and he just looked so sweet and happy waving his pompoms and singing, "I'm sexy, I'm cute, I'm popular to boot." Dad was clapping his hands for him like the mom in "The Nutty Professor." It wasn't just about getting close to the other cheerleaders for Brandy, but a rite of passage towards being a woman. I was sure he had several offers from guys to be escorted to the upcoming homecoming dance. I had gone to a couple of the junior cheer practices for middle-school girls but it wasn't really for me. Now, my brother was a little fairy in his pink outfit here at the studio.

Now I had all of the stupid cheer ditties stuck in my head.

Ever so gracefully and delicately, Brandy went into her little dance the minute the music started. She swayed back and forth doing all of her arabesques and such things. I was actually surprised at how good she really was and I couldn't take my eyes off of her. She was better than what I had expected. As she danced and froliced about the floor, her little pink skirt would fly up and show off the smooth bottom of her leotard. She danced for three minutes without making one mistake. At her last move, she struck a pose and flashed a huge smile. Then, she curtseyed as all us dancers had been taught. Like a girl, she skipped lightly off of the stage. I knew that she knew that she had just done an outstanding job and it wouldn't surprise anyone if she won the part. Fiona and dad were watching and I could tell that they were really proud of their daughter.

"How did I do mommy," Brandy asked excitedly. I noticed just how flippant and feminine all of Brandy's everyday movements had become; the little dips at the hip and coy smiles and flirtatious movements.

"Girl, yous was the bomb," mom replied.

As class was ending, some of the teen girls pulled out digital cameras, and we all took pictures of eachother in our ballet outfits, posing sexually. It was a whirlwind of femininity. We were hugging other girls, laughing, dancing, singing, and smiling without a care in the world.

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We were off to our challenge the next day when the phone rang. Fiona had us all put on black tights and sport's bras, over which we we were allowed to wear a T-shirt and sweat pants. Brandy went to answer the call and it was Amanda informing her that she had been chosen for the female lead in Sleeping Beauty.

You would have thought that she had won the lottery with the high-pitched screams and cries of "Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god!!," that carried throughout the house.

"What is it girl," dad asked?

"I got the part, I got the part!!!"

"Oh baby that is so precious." dad and Brandy hugged eachother, jumping up and down and actually crying tears of joy.

I decided that I had had enough of this charade and I was finally going to tell dad how I really felt about all of this. I was going to tell him that I didn't care about the contest or any of this learning to be girls crap. I was going to change back to Kevin as soon as possible and go back home to my real mom. He and Mike could stay here and be gay if they wanted, but I was having no more of it!!

"Mom," I asked firmly, "Can I talk to you in private for a minute."

"Of course sweetie," he replied in his typical rococo Monique voice."

We went into the bathroom. I began and said, "Look dad, Some parts of this contest have been fun. The fact is that I hate being Kendra. I am telling you that I demand to change back to Kevin. I'm not into dating guys or dancing ballet or being a cheerleader or any of this stupid stuff. I am a boy and I want to go back home the way I was."

Dad didn't even look at me. All he did was examine his angelic face in the mirror and check for non-existant flaws.

"Did you even hear me!!!," I screamed in my high-pitched black-girl voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard to me every time I opened my mouth.

"Of course I heard you dear," he replied. "The problem is that we've come too far to back out now. I wished you would have told me on the first day that you didn't want to be here, and then we could have worked something out with Matt and sent you back. Honestly, I thought that you were just enjoying yourself like we are. You seemed so happy and unconcerned."

"I was too scared to say or do anything," I told him, "I didn't know it was going to be this extreme. You wanted me to become female and I didn't want to defy you. I want you to know that I have liked getting to bond with you. I feel like I finally know you and that we know alot more about ourselves as people. But I can't keep going."

"Listen sweetie," said dad, "Women just have to put on a happy face and keep going. And all guys have to just suck things up and do things in life that they don't want to do. I didn't like working as a car salesman for the last 17 years. I hated seeing my sons turned into girls at first. When I saw how happy being a black girl made your brother and how close we were getting, I changed my mind. Sure, I would rather be masculine, but I was a terrible father and this is my chance to right the wrongs. I missed out on your childhoods but now we get to become close again."

Dad continued, "As for you, you're only 13 and you're learning that people have to do things that they don't want to do. In your case, it is being a girl for the next five months."

I wasn't convinced and said, "But I think being a girl is going too far. Why couldn't I just get a paper route to learn a work ethic? I don't want to lose my manhood."

"LIke I said," said Dad, "We're in this for the long haul. If you back out, we forefit, and you will not ruin this for me or your sister. If you don't remember, we had a bunch of debt to pay for all of those sporting activities. If we don't win that money, we could become homeless. Being here is not a matter of choice. You might as well just make the best of it and enjoy it. It will all be over soon. Then, you can go back to being Kevin."

I realized that I was taking the wrong approach. "So dad," I asked, "How do YOU like being Monique?" I needed to really get into his head and find out what was going on.

"I like it just fine dear," he replied, "We all have female sides and they just come out."

"Are you going to stay as a woman," I asked him?

"Well," he said, "We both know your brother is having the time of his life. As for me, there are so many things I like about being female and alot of things I like about being a guy as well. Before you came into our room the other week, Brandy was telling me how she might want to stay as a girl, but become a white girl instead."

"I'm not surprised she wants to keep being female," I replied.

"I haven't told anyone yet," said dad, "But I am seriously considering living as Monique for the rest of my life. I would stay with our family and still be married to mom, but I would be in disguise as the housekeeper."

"But what if mom wouldn't accept you as a woman," I asked him?

"I would be willing to let her be with another man for sex," he said. "I just know that once Monique is gone, she will be gone forever. Once you go back to being Kevin, it would cost alot of money to bring Kendra the black girl back."

"Why couldn't you just be a guy for most of the day like you were with Joe and then just wear Mom's clothes when you wanted to be a girl?"

"Like I told your sister, it has to be one or the other. It would be too confusing going back and forth. If I built my muscles back up and quit taking hormones, I would just look like an absurd drag queen instead of a classy and convincing lady. I would want to go out dancing and shopping and I couldn't pull it off."

"So if you decide to be Joe, you will never dress up again? Not even wear my mom's panties?"

"I think you can expect to have Monique around for a long time, more so than anything else," he said.

This was awful news. I had no chance of getting out. Running away wouldn't solve anything, I would still be a girl. I wished I could wash the stupid chocolate off of my skin and cut my curly hair and burn my bras and dresses in a giant bonfire. I was absolutely stuck.

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We drove back to the convention center for our next challenge. They had converted the ballroom into a giant modeling studio. Our challenge was to model bikinis and little dresses as a family and professional modeling judges would score us. We wore simple clothes so we could change easily.

I didn't have quite the same enthusiasm this week as I had earlier. Makeup artists took the three of us and went to work on our faces with stage makeup. I was disgusted as they gobbed the foundation and concealer on my face. It wasn't even real, I was just someone's dress up doll. The sytlist was an attractive Latina lady and she introduced herself as Ana. She looked like that mom from the show Ugly Betty.

I took off my T-shirt and sweats and stood there in my black sports bra and my black tights. Ana pulled down my black tights and pulled a pair of sheer pantyhose out of a drawer. Quickly and efficently, she pulled the new tights up my legs. I stepped into a very tight halter-top black dress with a skirt-line that ended just below my crotch. The dress was really tight and showed off my hourglass figure. The tights covered my lower body and made my legs look so long and sexy. I loved the feeling of being encased in tight nylon, and that was the one thing I would miss. I stepped into a pair of black high heels, which had the effect of forcing me to take tiny, dainty steps, and pushed my butt up even more prominently. I thought the feeling of sticking a nyloned foot into a high heel was sort of erotic and tempting. Ana put a silver bracelet and a gold necklace on me, and I looked like a very young girl going out to a club or waitressing at a swank bar.

Brandy was in a short pink minidress with sequins and she had on white tights and pink heels. Dad was in a red sparkly minidress with spaghetti straps and he had on sheer hose. They both wore spiked heels to match their dresses. We were all given matching purses and we looked like three black girls out to pick up some boys! Matt ushered us over to the photo area and we were instructed to pose and model our outfits. The best set of pictures by any family would win another 100,000 votes. We were going to be second to go as a group. We looked over and saw the rest of mother/daughter combos getting made up and dressed in cute little outfits. Leticia's family was already getting their pictures taken. Her mom was wearing a tight white minidress with white tights and her daughters were in black tank dresses with sheer hose. It was sickining to watch former guys whore themselves out like this.

My dad was sensing my discomforture and he said to me, "You better put on a pretty face and smile."

So we went and took our snapshots. Brandy and Monique were having the time of their lives, primping and preening. They were sticking out their legs and flashing lascivious smiles. They were saying, "Come and get it." I was sure that America would eat it up. They were sexy women, I had to admit. But I did not have quite the same enthusiasm I had had that day Fiona took photos of us in our princess leotards. I hated being a "sex object" Here I was in my little dress and my little tights. I blew a kiss flirtatiously, imagining that I wanted every man in America to think that I was a black goddess who would give him a blow job. I sucked it up and got through it. If there was one thing I was good at in life, it was getting through things. Whenever I was in tights, I liked the feeling of being in nylon, so I would perk up a little bit. Here we were, three new girls being forced by circumstances to shed our male identites and become inferior colored women. How far we had come since the days of Civil Rights marches.

My dad and brother were in oblivion having the time of their lives, and to their sadness, the first part of the photo shoot came to an end.

"That's a wrap girls," the director called. Dad and Brandy hustled off to get changed into swimwear, but I saw Craig out of the corner of my eye and decided I had to take a chance and see if I could convince him to send my home with no questions asked.

"Craig," I called out running up to him. I was being slowed down by being in heels, clicking embarassingly on the tiles. The wind blew against my tights as I ran like a little girl.

"Brandy," he said, "What's up."

"I have to talk to you," I said, "I was wondering if it would be possible for me to get out of this and go back to being a guy? I don't want to penalize my mom and sister, because they've worked so hard at becoming women."

"This is such a shock," said Craig, "Your dad told me that you and your sister were having a blast becoming girls."

"I was misleading him because I wanted him to be proud of me," I replied. It was going to be tough to convince him.

"What did your dad say about all this," he asked?

"He said that we came too far and we were fully committed," I replied.

"Look," said Craig, "Five more months is not that much longer. It seems like a long time because you are so young. But you should know that your family is doing by far the best with our focus groups. I would say that you have very good odds of winning."

"I don't care about the money," I stated, "My pride and manhood is more important to me."

Craig reflected thoughtfully for a second. "You don't have to just appear as a man to have honor. It is really what is on the inside that counts. There is the old saying of never judge a book by its cover. Besides, being a girl is not the worst thing that could happen to anyone."

"Its not," I asked, "How would you know?"

"I spent my teenage years as a girl," replied Craig to my surprise. "My mom had three boys before me, and by the time I was 14, she didn't want any more kids. She decided she wanted to get to raise at least one girl, so one day all my boys clothes were gone and all I did was wear dresses and go to ballet class. I hated it at first but I just accepted it and eventually I began to enjoy being feminine and going on dates and being treated like a lady. I spent all of High School as a girl, but I had to go back to a guy when I was ready to go to College because they couldn't change my birth certificate. I put forth the premise of this show based on my experience."

"How did your dad feel about all of this?"

"That is the point I am trying to make. My mom absolutely dominated my dad. He looked like a man to the outside world, but my mom had him in the kitchen wearing an apron and doing laundry. So being a man is really defined more by actions than appearences."

I was beginning to understand. Unfortunately, I had to go back and get changed into my bikini. Ana took off my dress, shoes, and tights and I was put into a pink bikini. I had to step into a pair of plastic stripper shoes. My family was already waiting for me; dad in a lime green bikini and Brandy in a purple bikini with polka dots.

We snapped some more pictures and soon we were back over to get changed into our wedding outfits. Dad would be the bride, Brandy would be his bridesmaid, and I would be his flower girl. Our assistants put white tights on all of us. As Ana was changing my tights, she said to me, "I think it is really cute how you guys are doing this."

"Oh yeah," I retaliated, "How would you feel if your sons were being forced to be sissies."

Ana laughed and said, "I've been dressing my twin boys as girls for the last six years. I don't think you realize how common this sort of thing is. I bet a number of girls at your old school were really guys and some of the guys used to be girls."

"I seriously doubt that."

Ana pulled a cute little pink dress with lacey shoulders over me. "Crossdressing is the future," she said. "My girls are going to make some CEO lady very happy some day. They are learning what they need to know about how to be good submissive husbands."

"Well, that will never be me," I retorted.

"Have you looked in the mirror," Ana said. She handed me a boquet of flowers. She took all of the braids and beads out of my hair and brushed it into a conventional wavy style

Dad had put on white stockings and was now in a white-velvet wedding dress, and he was wearing a veil. Brandy was in a sleek teal blue bridesmaid dress. We went over and snapped the final set of pictures as a happy bride with her two daughters who was getting ready to be married off to the man of her dreams. With the many new perspectives I had learned today, I began to see "The Big Picture." It was not just about me. I was going to make the best of things. I realized that being a man was a privilege and not a right. I had to earn the right to call myself a white boy. Soon, I would shed my tights and get back into my boxer shorts. To do it, I had to be Kendra Washington, schoolgirl, ballerina, black girl, to the best of my ability.

If my dad and brother wanted to be women, I woudn't stop them. I just wanted them to be happy. I wanted to be happy.