Melody Blossoms

A free sample from my new ebook!
Harriet and her friends are at that age when girls blossom into young ladies. Except for Clarence. Clarence still needs a lot of help to reach his potential. Only Harriet understands his secret — deep down, he’s a girl named Melody. Gradually, Harriet and the girls coax their new friend out of his shell. Can they help Melody to blossom?

From a block away, Clarence could hear their singsong voices.

Is he? Is he?
Is he prissy?
Is he a sissy …

Girls voices, hard to tell how many. And they were getting closer. Clarence hurried along, but he was still several long blocks from home. He told himself they weren’t teasing him, they had to be teasing someone else. Nobody knew about him.

Clarence likes to wear
Flowers in his hair
Clarence likes to wear
Frilly underwear!

One voice whooped laughter, and Clarence broke into a run. He swerved down a narrow alley and ran with all his strength, hoping to capitalize on the surprise effect of this maneuver. His leg ached. He didn’t dare turn to see how many were chasing him but judging from the patter of Keds echoing off the alley walls, there were several.

He dodged down a narrower alley between two high old fences and emerged near a strip of run-down shops, a pizza place that had been closed for weeks, a donut shop no one ever went in, and a secondhand clothing shop that had several racks of beat-up jackets lining the sidewalk. Clarence zigzagged between the clothing racks, favoring his unbruised leg.

Then he vanished.

Well, he hoped that he appeared to vanish, anyway. What he actually did was duck down behind a display of mismatched mittens and snuck in the front door of the clothing shop. Looking in the big mirror behind the cashier, he could see the girls standing in the street outside. They were glancing around in all directions, like cats who suddenly lost sight of a sparrow. Big Ruby even looked up into the sky, and almost tripped over her own schoolbag. Betty kept peering into the donut shop, displaying her ignorance of Clarence’s lifelong aversion to deep-fried confectionery. She fiddled with her hair ribbon, trimmed with dozens of kelly green plastic shamrocks. Fern leaned forward and seemed to sniff the air for her prey. Her thick glasses gave her a bookish façade, but she had the eyes of a true predator. Clarence shuddered and slid behind a display of patched skirts.

As he peered back into the mirror he saw a wave of golden curls bobbing behind Big Ruby. Then his heart did that flipfloppy thing it always did when he saw Harriet. He couldn’t help it — her eyes were so brown and her lips just pouted out in that sweet way they always did. He knew he shouldn’t have swiped her underwear. He ought to be brave enough to apologize and face the consequences, whatever the consequences were for swiping a beautiful girl’s underwear. Probably something really embarrassing, but still he should have been brave and faced it, instead of running off like a sneaky chickeny thief, which, he now realized, was what he was.

He looked for a back door but there were only three little changing booths along the wall. Maybe he could deny it was him. Maybe Harriet hadn’t actually seen him take them. Maybe they’d forget the whole dumb thing and go home.

“Go home? Are you stupid or something?” Big Ruby hollered.

“I do not want to miss the Bandstand show again!” retorted Betty. “Not just to tail after some creepy panty thief! I need my entertainment!”

“Stay alert, squad!” Fern enjoyed calling her friends squad. It made her feel like she was in charge. “He didn’t just vanish — he’s here somewhere.”

“Of course! He must be in the clothing shop!” cried Harriet, and scurried across the street.

“Come on, cloverhead,” Big Ruby growled at Betty. “You’ll get your entertainment.”

Harriet found him in the last changing booth, standing on top of the little bench so no one could see his feet. “Well, if it isn’t the biggest sissy in the whole wide world!” she giggled as yanked the curtain open. “Are you picking out some new dresses?”

Big Ruby’s loud laugh filled the little alcove as the other girls crowded in with them.

Fern pulled the curtain shut. “The sissy-hunting squad triumphs again,” she gloated.

Clarence tried to play it cool. “What are you guys talking about?”

“We’re talking about what a sneaky little pantyboy you are,” teased Betty. “We know you swiped a pair of Harriet’s underwear off her clothesline yesterday.”

“Whaaat?” Clarence tried to act surprised. Actually he was surprised, since he didn’t expect to be caught and he certainly didn’t expect anyone to come right out and announce what he had done.

“Are you wearing them now?” asked Harriet, reaching up for his belt.

“No! It wasn’t me who did it, and besides, I wouldn’t wear them … I was just sort of curious.”

“And you’re terrible at lying,” laughed Betty. “So did you swipe them?”

Clarence shook his head emphatically, but Big Ruby had grabbed his wrists and Harriet was still pulling at his belt. “Nooo! I didn’t! I would never do that!”

“Don’t be a fibber,” scolded Harriet. Her eyes danced with mischief as she undid his belt. “So that wasn’t you lurking around my backyard last night?”

“Of course not! I was home doing homework then!”

“And it wasn’t you who snatched my undies off the clothesline? And then hopped over the fence?”

“I just told you —”

“Whoever it was, he fell into Mrs. O’Leary’s compost shed when he jumped the fence … and he probably has a big bruise right —”

With that, she yanked down his jeans and pointed at the bruise on his thigh.

“There!” chorused the four girls.

Clarence tumbled off the bench. There was an epic struggle to see who would end up with his jeans. Big Ruby fell on him, then he was bouncing off several walls in the tiny room. Suddenly the curtain was yanked aside by an elderly lady who looked on the verge of an embolism. Before she could shriek, the girls hurried out of the store. Clarence blushed and yanked his jeans back on as he ran.

But before he reached the door, something in the mirror made him stop dead in his tracks.

The jeans weren’t his.

He was hitching up a pair of powder blue jeans with embroidered daisies and tulips. Girl’s jeans.

His jaw dropped as he looked through the window to see Harriet waving and flapping his jeans like a long denim banner. Fern, Betty and Big Ruby watched to see his reaction.

“Those jeans are seven dollars,” said Gloria the cashier, as if she sold girl’s jeans to boys every day of the week. Clarence reflexively reached in his pocket, but of course it was empty.

“But those girls stole my pants!” whined Clarence. Gloria carefully scratched her curly wig and tried to look like she cared.

“Look, I’ll bring them back when I’ve get my pants, okay?”

“You have to leave something. Give me your bag, honey.” Before he could object, Gloria yanked his schoolbag out of his hands.

As he left, the door swung open and everyone in the store could hear the girls singing “Clarence is a sissy” at the top of their lungs. Their singsongy voices echoed off walls and down the narrow street. Clarence hitched up his new girl’s jeans as best he could.

“I can get you a larger size, honey,” said the cashier, but Clarence was already gone.

The girls had split up in different directions, but Clarence pursued Harriet. She swooped into a tiny building on the corner where several stories of struggling businesses were housed. Harriet ran through the little lobby, still waving Clarence’s jeans at him, and pushed open the door to a staircase. The two ran up past Happy’s Pawn Shop, the Gold Belt Karate Academy and a forlorn little doorway where the Superprofessional Garden Gnome Restoration Co. resided.

On the top floor was Miss Tara’s Charm School. Harriet was so surprised to see it again, she almost lost her footing on the steps. Every Wednesday, Harriet’s Mom had taken her here for what they called her “lessons.” Memories of sipping tea with the gracious Miss Tara came flooding back.

“Slow down!” hollered Clarence, limping his way past the karate school.

“Hurry up or I’ll throw them off the roof!” laughed Harriet. She sat down on the little bench outside the door, leaned back thoughtfully and studied the flowing script on Miss Tara’s sign. A bulletin board was covered with polaroids of cute little girls pouring tea as Miss Tara hovered nearby.

Harriet could barely remember what she was actually taught in this little school. She did remember sweet Miss Tara, always keeping order and explaining the proper way for young ladies to behave. And she remembered all the dresses. Miss Tara had tons of dressy dresses that were absolutely perfect, if you were five and liked to play dress up.

Clarence finally rounded the corner, totally out of breath. In the dim light of the stairway, the little beads on his jeans winked and glimmered. Harriet whistled at him. His jeans were slipping down past his hips and Harriet saw something she hadn’t noticed when they were in the changing room.

“Give me my pants back,” begged Clarence, trying to sound menacing.

The fact that she was sitting should have made him feel in charge, but somehow he felt more like a peasant pleading his case before a powerful queen.

“Hey, you have two pairs of underwear on,” Harriet pointed at his white briefs, and another pair that peeked out above the waistband.

Clarence tried to think up an explanation, but realized there just plain wasn’t any. He sighed and leaned against the wall. “Look, I’m very sorry I took them, okay?” he said, sounding more annoyed than contrite. “I guess I’ll put them in the laundry and then bring them back, okay?”

“The least you can do is explain why you did it, Clarence,” Harriet pouted.

Clarence opened his mouth, but found he couldn’t explain a thing to her. He didn’t even know why he took her panties. He hung his head in shame.

“You said you were curious … was that the truth?”

“Yes,” Clarence mumbled forlornly.

“Curious about me? Or about girl’s underwear?”

Clarence couldn’t believe he was discussing girl’s underwear with anyone, let alone this girl, of all girls. He could feel his face glowing and wondered if he was any redder than a stop sign. “You, Harriet. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done it. I should have been more of a man, but somehow I couldn’t.”

She stood up from the bench. “You have to be yourself, Clarence. If you asked me nicely, I would have been happy to let you try ‘em on.”

Clarence looked up in surprise and she caressed his hair. “Of course, you’d have to relieve some of my curiosity too.” She drew close to his ear and whispered, “Take off the briefs. I want to see you in my panties.”

“N-now?”

She smiled and nodded. “You’ve been wearing them all day at school, naughty pantyboy, and nobody knew. It isn’t fair to get all your curiosity satisfied and then turn around and fib to the rest of us girls.”

“What do you mean the rest of us girls? I’m not a —”

For the second time, Harriet yanked down his pants. This time, she also grabbed his briefs and yanked them down too.

Then she just stood back and marveled at the sight of Clarence in her striped cotton panties. He was blushing bright enough to light the hallway, shivering with embarrassment, and Harriet couldn’t help but laugh at his silly, self-inflicted predicament.

“Poor little Clarence, there’s so much you don’t know.” She took his chin in her hand and drew his lips close to hers. Harriet had never actually kissed a boy before, but she’d seen it in movies and had a pretty good idea of what had to happen. “You’re so curious, but you don’t know the first thing about being a girl, do you?”

“B-being a girl? Harriet, I —”

Their lips met, and Clarence gasped when he felt her hands cupping his fanny. “All you ever had to do was ask me. Or any of the girls … I’m sure they’d help you too.”

Clarence shivered at the thought of Big Ruby helping him. Then he just shivered, as Harriet’s soft hands explored him.

“Please, can’t I have my jeans back? I’m tired of wearing these girly jeans.”

“You’ll be as girly as I want you,” laughed Harriet, between kisses.

Clarence felt it was high time to put up an objection, no matter how nice Harriet was making him feel. “Hey, you know I’m not like a girl.”

“Yes, I know. But you’ll learn, sissy. You’ll learn.” She glanced over at the polaroids of the little girls playing dress-up.

A minute later, Gloria the cashier looked up to see two of the girls that had been in the store earlier. The pretty one paid for the jeans the red-faced girl was wearing, and Gloria gave her schoolbag back. Gloria still thought that girl should have bought a size larger … you could see her panties sticking up around the waistband.

“Hey, are those new?” Harriet asked, pointing at a display.

“Sure they are,” said Gloria, wiping the dust off the clear plastic box and putting it up on the counter.

Clarence peered into the box to see an assortment of nylon panties, each in a different pastel color. The days of the week were stitched in on each hip. Clarence shook his head.

“Twenty dollars,” said Gloria. Harriet shook her head too.

“Ten,” Gloria quickly added. “And I’ll get you some bras too, no charge. What’s your size?”

“A-cup, I think,” Harriet said, looking over at Clarence, “Right, doll face?”

“I can’t wear these jeans home!” Clarence hissed. He swung his schoolbag in one hand and tightly clutched a shopping bag filled with his new underthings.

“You can change at my house,” Harriet said gently. She blushed at the thought of all she had done to the poor boy that afternoon … and blushed even more over what she hoped to do to him in the future. Clarence was a shy kid, kind of backwards socially — even for a boy — so it didn’t surprise her that he had swiped her panties and then lied about it. She tried to imagine the powerful impulse that drove him to such a desperate, dimwitted act. Boys were constantly shamed and criticized for revealing the slightest trace of femininity. And shy people kept everything bottled up in them anyway. So how strong did his natural girlishness have to be, to burst out so unmistakably?

Harriet watched as he clutched his shopping bag tightly to his chest, carefully holding the top closed so no passersby could see inside. His gait was hurried, maybe influenced by the touch of Harriet’s panties. He was more than a little edgy — maybe even slightly bitchy — but Harriet could see he truly needed a friend.

They walked down the driveway next to Harriet's house and she pushed open the kitchen door. Mom didn't get home for another hour. Harriet opened a can of tuna-hoots for the kittens while Clarence fidgeted and hitched up his new jeans for the millionth time.

“Okay … please give me my pants back now.” Clarence murmured in a monotone.

“You can’t change here in the kitchen. Come upstairs.”

She stopped him halfway up the stairs. “I want to give you a sachet,” she said with a smile. “It’s a little something you tuck in the drawer with your new panties. Keeps everything smelling sweet and fresh.” She gave his nose a little tweak and hurried up to her room.

“But I don’t even need these dumb panties and I’m not gonna wear ‘em,” grumbled Clarence.

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“No I’m —” Clarence stopped mid-quibble as he entered her bedroom. The room was typical for a 13 year old girl’s — photos of her kittens were thumb-tacked to the pink cork lining the walls. A white carpet covered the floor, and the small bed was covered with a homemade canopy of lilac netting and trailing tinsel. A sliding door in the back of the room opened to show a deep closet. Two windows, framed with sheer white curtains, opened upon the neat little lawn in the backyard below. A small desk with a few scattered schoolbooks was tucked into a corner, and Clarence was shocked to see Fern sitting at the desk, writing notes on a big desk calendar.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

“I’m always here after school, pantybutt!”

Clarence dropped his schoolbag and crossed both arms over his shopping bag. Fern snickered at him. “I love those jeans on you. They’re so cute. Betty picked ‘em out for you, and did the switch. She’s craftier than you’d think. So what did you buy?”

Harriet rummaged in her schoolbag and pulled out his jeans, carefully leaving his white briefs tucked in her bag. She handed the jeans to Clarence. “Just go in the closet and shut the door—you can change in there.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Clarence put down the shopping bag and took his jeans from Harriet. He entered the closet, surprised to see how many clothes were inside. Rows of blouses, skirts and dresses on hangers ran along the three walls. He was surrounded by bright colors and floaty fabrics. A small folding chair nestled in the center. He carefully slid the door shut.

Clarence was relieved to get out of the embroidered jeans. He stood in the dim light and looked into the mirror on the back of the door. The stripes on Harriet’s panties ran vertically down his midsection. He couldn’t resist turning and looking at himself in profile, seeing the rainbow colored stripes curving up one buttcheek. Then he heard Big Ruby clomping up the stairs. He hurriedly pulled on his regular jeans while he heard the lighter step of what must be Betty. He opened the closet to see the four girls chattering, totally oblivious to him. He grabbed his schoolbag and walked casually toward the bedroom door.

“Don’t go yet — I want to get you the sachet for your new panties,” reminded Harriet. The other girls rocked with laughter.

“I’ll get it tomorrow. I can’t wait here all day,” he retorted, reaching for the door.

“Don’t be so snippy, Mademoiselle!” Big Ruby chuckled. “We’re busy working on your schedule here.”

“My what?”

Fern smiled and turned the calendar toward him. Across the top in bright pink letters, it read: Sissy Boy’s Activity Plan. “Let’s see … your dance class is every Tuesday, and cheerleading practice on Wednesdays. You can cheer Big Ruby at her basketball games every Thursday night! And on the weekend is the drama club … we’re going to get you the lead role in Alice In Wonderland, won’t that be special?” teased Betty, tossing her hair.

“Eff that! The school would never go for that!” Big Ruby yelled.

“She’s right,” sighed Harriet. “And there’s an activity fee for all these things … our parents will go broke.”

“Well, we don’t have to go. Just angel bloomers there has to go,” Fern observed.

“Noo — I want to see him go through all of it!” wailed Betty.

“Me too!” agreed Harriet. “It’s no fun unless we all watch.”

“Well, my folks ain’t paying no more activity fees, and I ain’t giving up basketball to join a stupid drama club. If we’re gonna give him girly lessons we’ll have to do it ourselves.”

Fern guffawed. “What kind of girly lessons are you gonna teach him?”

Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll teach him how to elbow some kid right in her stupid glasses if she don’t clam up!”

Harriet stood and took Clarence by the arm. “Sweetie, this discussion might take us a little while … maybe you could do a favor for me while you wait?”

“Why the hell would I do you a favor?” glowered Clarence.

“Oh! He’s soo impolite!” Betty chided. “We need a new list for him … Sissy Boy’s Punishments!”

Fern chuckled and Ruby gave her a high-five.

“It’ll be fun,” Harriet assured him, leading him back toward her closet. “Just go through my clothes and pick out your favorite outfit, okay?”

“I can’t!” he yelped, looking back at her friends. “What would they think of me?”

“Well … I don’t think they’d be too shocked to see you going through my clothes. Leave the door open, princess.”

“Wait! Am I supposed to be picking out clothes for you, or …?” he was too scared to even finish the sentence.

“Thanks, but I think I can pick out my own outfits,” she said with a wink.

She rejoined her friends to find them in another quarrel.

“That’s not a punishment, that’s an activity!” Fern was saying.

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

“Have you ever shaved your legs?” asked Ruby. “Definitely a punishment.”

“No, it’s an activity. Harriet?” Fern turned to her in exasperation.

“Put it on both lists,” sighed Harriet. “He’ll have to shave his legs whether he’s good or bad.”

“See? I was right,” Ruby gloated.

“He’s not all that fuzzy,” Betty said reflectively.

“Yeah but it will be a good experience for him,” Harriet explained.

“Fuzzy wuzzy was a sissy,” laughed Fern.

Clarence couldn’t believe how many outfits Harriet owned. Dresses in every color of the rainbow. Forests of skirts and oceans of blouses. Dance outfits, Halloween costumes, and three long formal gowns with full pouffy skirts. Clarence casually flipped past each, trying to conceal his shaking hands.

“He’s not really looking at them,” Betty pouted.

“Clarence! Look at them,” Harriet said, her voice edged with frustration.

“Still think he doesn’t need any punishments?” asked Fern merrily.

Harriet lifted the list from her desk and spoke softly. “He doesn’t have any friends. I just don’t want to be mean to him.”

“He stole from you, and he lied about it,” Fern shot back.

“Yeah but we got him back pretty good.”

“That was nothing,” grumbled Ruby. “If he stole my panties, he’d get every punishment on that list, and more.”

Harriet skimmed the list and blushed. “We don’t even have a ping pong paddle.”

“I think I still have a set in the garage,” Betty offered.

“They say it’s easier than smacking him with your bare hands,” Fern said casually.

“Who says that? Fern, I worry about you!” laughed Harriet.

Ruby crooned, “This cat Fern is a bad mother —”

“Shut your mouth!” the girls chorused.

“Just talkin’ about Fern!”

Betty was playing with the kittens, Fern and Ruby were arguing about how to implement the Sissy Boy Demerits system, and Clarence was slowly nosing his way through Harriet’s outfits for the third time. Harriet had opened the box of panties and all the bras, and sprayed each with a spritz of Pink Sugar cologne. It was creeping toward five p.m.

“… and he pays them back either by good behavior, or we punish him. Demerits just make good sense.”

“No they don’t.”

“Yes they do! And they’ll be easy to track.”

“You got an A in algebra, Fern. You don’t know the difference between easy and hard ‘cause you’re too smart! This’ll be a total brain buster.”

“No it won’t.”

“Yes it will!”

“Ohmygod! Mom’s gonna be home in ten minutes!” Harriet sprang to her feet. “Clarence, if you don’t pick something out right now, I’m going in there with a big old ping pong paddle and smack that butt of yours ‘til it’s pinker than the sugarplum fairy stuck in a cotton candy machine!”

Ruby rolled off her chair laughing.

Amid gales of laughter, Harriet stormed into the closet and slammed the door.

“Just what is the problem here?” she demanded. “Don’t you like anything?”

“I’m sorry,” pouted Clarence. “It’s like … like …”

Harriet fought the urge to tear her hair out. “Like what?”

“Christmas,” he said, brushing away a tear.

He held up a red and white plaid dress with a white lace collar. Harriet had forgotten she even had it.

“Last Christmas my dad got me a baseball with a long elastic cord attached to it, so I could play catch. That wasn’t like Christmas, Harriet. This is.”

She wanted to give him a hug but he was holding the dress up and she couldn’t reach around him in time before the closet door opened. “What the hell are you doing? He won’t have time to put a dress on now!”

Betty crowded in behind Fern. She had found the instant camera. “Hold up your dress and smile, Mademoiselle!”

Ruby pushed in, followed by the kittens. Everyone was blinded by the flash.

That night, Harriet had a lengthy, complex and very realistic dream. Her kittens, Pumpkin and Palin, were transformed by a magic curse. Pumpkin’s fur turned dark flinty green, and she grew into a giant savage dragon, alternately spitting fire and ice. The dragon gripped a huge ping pong paddle in its gnarled claw and swung at Harriet. Then Palin turned into a gleaming white angel with long auburn curls and fluttery eyelashes and a huge baseball attached to a golden band. Palin soared through the sky on red and white plaid wings and hurled her baseball of justice smack into the green scaled head of the hideous dragon. The angel and the dragon roared and fought a titanic battle for what seemed like days, but eventually the dragon began to get the upper hand.

Time and again, dragon smacked the pretty angel with the paddle of discourteous impertinence, shouting “Shut your mouth!” The angel valiantly gathered her resources and tried a counterattack but suddenly the dragon waved a magic wand and turned the lovely angel into a boy. The boy was too weak to fight a huge dragon, but luckily Harriet helped him escape by grabbing the baseball and throwing it with all her might over the horizon. The golden band on the baseball pulled tight and yanked the boy off his feet and over the horizon as well.

Ignoring the angry roars of the dragon, Harriet followed the boy over the horizon and found him in her closet trying on her dresses.

“You can’t do that any more,” Harriet told him. “You’re a boy now.”

“The kittens were born in the china cabinet,” he replied. “Did you put them in the dishwasher?”

“Of course not.”

“Sometimes you have to look deeper.”

“Okay,” Harriet admitted, “So you’re not male, but you’re not like me either. I can have a conversation with people. I have friendships!”

“You blossomed in the sunlight. I was hidden in the shadows.”

“But that’s not my fault. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Don’t ask me. Ask the lady you learned it from.”

“But I was just a little kid at the time. I barely remember who she was.”

“Then how do you remember what she taught?”

“I’m not sure I do remember. Maybe I need to go back to her too. Maybe we all need to go back to her.”

That morning she woke up with the answer.

“You want to sign up for Miss Tara’s Charm School?” roared Ruby. “Are you crazy or just nuts?”

“Miss Tara’s is for babies!” scoffed Betty, tossing her hair indignantly. “Manners and politeness and courtesy and — and manners!”

To everyone’s surprise, Fern giggled like a kindergardener, and then blushed. “Ohh, just think of him in one of those flowery dresses!”

Harriet was blushing too. “It might be a little embarrassing … for all of us … but I know it will do Clarence a lot of good! And, um … it might help us too, a little, maybe …”

“Etiquette!” Ruby glowered at her. “Stinkin’, slimin’ etiquette! Darjeeling teacups at forty paces! Salad forks and finger bowls! Curtseying!”

“Imagine him getting curtseying lessons!” grinned Betty sheepishly.

“Yeah, that’s all good, but I’m picturing me! And I’m not smiling in that picture!” griped Ruby.

“By the way, you got a great photo of your thumb last night, Betty,” Harriet quipped.

“Dang.”

“Ruby, if you’re out, you’re out,” shrugged Fern. “We’ll tell you how his curtseying lessons went. Should be pretty amusing, of course it would be a lot funnier to see firsthand …”

“Are you tryin’ psychology on me?”

“Of course not. No one would ever try psychology on you.”

“Good! Because I might sign up for that thing, just for laughs — and remember I said might! But it wouldn’t be cause some kid with eyeglasses tried psychology on me, see?”

No one knew what to say for a while. Finally Betty said, “I hope Miss Tara doesn’t charge too much.”

“Well it can’t be more than that stupid activity fee our school charges. And since we’re a group, maybe she’ll do a discount.”

Fern rummaged through her notebook. “I made a Sissy Boy Checklist,” she announced. “We need to check each morning if he’s wearing panties and bra. We need to issue demerits for insolence or sloppiness. We need to reward girlish behavior and remind him of any upcoming activities on the Sissy Boy Activity List.”

“Sissies are kind of a pain in the keester,” said Betty.

“Definitely high-maintenance, but I predict he’ll be worth all the trouble. Did you find those paddles? The ones in your garage?” Fern prodded.

“Gosh, I forgot all about that! You really want a paddle?”

“It’s an integral component of the Sissy Boy Discipline Plan, formerly referred to as Sissy Boy Punishments. Discipline Plan just sounds better,” Fern explained.

“This is getting more like algebra class every second,” growled Ruby.

“I think the most equitable division of labor is to have one of us serve as his daily Disciplinarian and Supervisor. I worked out a schedule for that too.”

Betty fumbled with her hair ribbon. “Fern! Harriet’s the one who got her panties swiped — she ought to decide all this. The rest of us should just toss in ideas and enjoy his predicament.”

Again Fern looked to Harriet for confirmation. “Really? I thought I was providing a reasonable structure for his future development.”

“Well … I don’t want to douse your enthusiasm, but I have some nice plans for Clarence, and I don’t want to scare him with a lot of rules and regulations.”

“Am I being a nerd again?”

“Um, maybe a little. Not as bad as last time though.”

“Will I still get to spank him sometimes? I mean, you can’t do all the spanking yourself — it’s just not fair.”

“For heaven’s sake, Fern! We don’t know how he’d react to that, or even if it’s a good idea.”

Ruby laughed, “Of course it’s a good idea! Smacking his sweet mademoiselle fanny with a ping-pong paddle? For doing his curtseying lessons wrong? Eff yeah, it’s an effing hilarious idea!”

“Shh! There he is now.”

Harriet smiled. “Just where I told him to wait.”