Dennis Moore has a skin condition which flares up on a holiday to his cousins. Away from his usual treatments alternative solutions have to be invented.

Scratch!

an amusement by Penny Lane

1 of 3 - Soggy Sunday

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2022 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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Author's Note: We went away for a few days recently and my arms began itching. That, together with being stuck in a hotel while the Queen's funeral was on, together with certain odd happenings from my past, caused this light tale to bubble into life. To be clear, the following tale is fiction.

Following part 3 I will post a blog describing the Real Life influences.

"Aaargh!"

The teenage boy at the kitchen table furiously scrubbed his arms through his sweatshirt.

Gayle Moore looked at her son with concern and sympathy. "You really should not be doing that, Dennis. You know that it will only make matters worse."

Sylvia Hemmings looked at her sister. "It seems to be very bad this time. Why don't the doctors know what he has?"

"They've tried all the usual tests and come up with nothing." Gayle rolled her eyes. "Personally, I think that they have no idea at all what is wrong with him. He's been using this ointment for, oh, it must be four years now, and while it isn't getting worse I do not think it is getting better either."

"Why do you think it has flared up now?"

Gayle shrugged. "Who knows? Could be the time of the year, could be the food - we are eating different things than we would at home, of course, it could just be the water."

Sylvia looked at her sister. "Are you saying that we are trying to poison you all?"

"Ha ha. You're not doing anything deliberately, Syl. We're just in the Frozen North, that's all. It might have been worse if we had flown abroad, for example."

"True. Dennis, do you mind if I had a look?"

"Of course, Aunt Sylvia."

He pushed both his sleeves back past his elbows, exposing the angry red skin, some of it raised and lumpy. Sylvia and her two daughters winced, while Jennifer, Dennis's younger sister, had seen it all before and carried on eating her toast.

"It's getting to that awkward time of year," Gayle explained. "While he is in tee shirts we can just trowel on the ointment and let it soak in in its own time. Now that the seasons are getting cooler, it is going to be uncomfortable to leave his arms exposed for too long."

"Less uncomfortable than the alternative," Dennis muttered, pulling the sleeves back down.

"So what do you do? It must mean a lot of washing."

"Timing is the main thing," Gayle continued. "Sometimes we do it when he gets in from school and the house is warm enough. Doesn't help him in school, of course. Sometimes we can do it just before he goes to bed. He has tubular bandages that help keep the muck off his nightclothes and the sheets."

"Bandages?" Sylvia frowned. "I haven't seen any of those since you've been here."

"That's because they are still at home, probably wherever Dennis left them."

"Mum! I told you, they are still hanging up in the conservatory after you washed them. I never had them back in my room, you never told me when they were ready."

"Oh, yes. Sorry, Dennis. It was a bit frantic just before we left, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. If Dad had been there -"

"Well, he isn't and you know why. Maybe we'll see him before we have to go home but he has a difficult job to do."

"Yes, Mum."

"It's not like you to forget something like that. Did you actually bring anything away with you?"

"Course, Mum! I always have the tub of ointment with me in case I need it. There's some of the Hydrocortisone cream as well, though there's not much left of that."

Gayle sighed. "That means another consultant appointment, I suppose. Something else to sort out when we get home."

Breakfast resumed for a while with Dennis heroically refraining from scrubbing his arms again.

"Dennis?"

"Yes, Aunt Sylvia?"

"Is that it on the backs of your hands as well? I didn't notice before."

"It is, Aunt Sylvia. The doctors think it might have started there. I have some cotton gloves to wear... Mum! No gloves here either."

"No," his mother answered slowly. "I did them all in a separate wash, of course, so they are in the conservatory as well. That could be a problem."

Sylvia asked, "Gloves? What kind of gloves, Dennis?"

"They are sort of cotton gloves, Aunt Sylvia, like women use for skincare, but they have a long cuff on them. They don't cover my whole arms but it's just about enough when I don't have the bandages."

"Gayle? How is it Dennis has this big problem yet you can forget to bring along things like that?"

Gayle flipped a hand. "Until we came here this year there was nothing, Syl. He gets flare ups like this for maybe two or three weeks and then it will go away for months and months at a time. It can be easy to forget, to forget to prepare in case it does flare up while we were away."

"Of course. So, it will be off to the chemist, then, to stock up?"

Gayle shook her head. "Too late now. It is Sunday, remember, and the shops aren't exactly next door. Then tomorrow is the Bank Holiday, which of course is why it has been raining for three days."

"True. What about Meadowhall? That's open practically all day and all night."

"I really don't fancy driving all that way in this rain and then having to walk across a car park the size of Belgium in the same rain. In decent weather, maybe, but not this."

"But if Dennis needs something, then... Tell me, is there anything special about what he needs?"

Gayle shrugged again. "Natural fibres, mainly. Stuff that can be washed at a high temperature, which usually means cotton."

"Mums?" That was Carrie, the older of the two cousins. "I have an idea. What about those long gloves of mine? They are pure cotton, the entire costume is."

Sylvia looked at her daughter with surprise. "I had forgotten those! But don't you want to keep that costume all together?"

"I tried some of it on some weeks ago, Mums, because my wardrobe is getting full again, and most of it is too small for me now. I was thinking of boxing it all up and passing it on. The gloves just about fit but even they are getting tight. Dennis is a little smaller than me and they'd probably fit him now. If it's for a good cause..."

Sylvia considered. "Why not? Run along and fetch them, dear, it is the least we can offer."

Carrie got up from the table and left the kitchen. Gayle looked at Sylvia with interest.

"What costume is this?"

"Don't you remember, it was, oh, three years ago now they did Pride and Predjudice in school? Carrie was Lydia Bennet. I remember now, there were long gloves for the ballroom scene. All the actors got to keep the costumes because that was just before the schools merged."

"Ballroom gloves?" Dennis looked apprehensive.

"Well, don't turn them down just because of the name, young man. They would be hidden under your sweatshirt so nobody would see anything but your hands and if it makes a difference..."

"Yeah. S'pose so."

"We don't know if they would fit or be the right material or anything yet. Just wait until Carrie gets back."

Carrie came back with two long white tubes which had fingers dangling at the bottom.

"Ta da!"

Gayle held out her hand to receive the gloves and looked carefully at them. "These are cotton all right, Dennis. You'd better try them on to see if they would fit you."

Dennis took off his sweatshirt first, revealing a desert camouflage tee shirt. The gloves seemed soft and smooth and ridiculously long. He pushed his left hand inside and wiggled the fingers all the way down, then turned to his right hand to discover a problem.

"Mum? Uh, I don't think I can do this on my own. I don't have enough grip."

"Oh, that's all right, dear. Here, let me help."

Gayle held the glove for Dennis to push his right hand in, then waited until he had sorted out which finger went where before pulling the cotton tube up past his elbow. She then pulled up the left glove.

Sylvia commented, "Those look like they fit well, Dennis. Good thinking, Carrie."

Dennis wriggled his fingers thoughtfully. "They do fit, Aunt Sylvia. Aaaagh!"

Abruptly he furiously rubbed his two forearms against each other. "Mum? I need that ointment now."

Gayle turned to her sister. "If you are both sure you can part with these gloves, it will be a big help. You can see what state he's in."

"Of course! Carrie had the gloves, they don't fit her any more and I don't think Andrea is that interested in wearing a Regency costume, do you?"

The expression on the younger cousin's face told everybody what she thought of that idea.

Gayle rose. "Come on, then, Dennis. Better get you sorted out immediately."

In Dennis's bedroom - really, a small boxroom just big enough for a sleeping bag - he opened his backpack and ploughed through his clothes for the tub of white ointment. He handed it to his mother before attempting to strip off the gloves. His gloved fingers could not easily grip the fingers of the other glove to pull them off.

"Not easy to do this, Mum. What happens when I want to wash my hands or go to the toilet?"

Gayle stopped with tub in one hand and lid in the other. "Good thinking, Dennis. I think we can let you keep them on all day if it helps, even for meals. Going to the toilet, you'd better come and ask me to help you take them off first." She smiled at her son. "It isn't as if we'll be going very far today, is it?"

They both listened to the rain pounding against the window. "Not likely, Mum! Okay, then."

With the gloves off Dennis was able to excavate enough ointment from the tub to liberally cover both arms. This process also meant that his hands were thoroughly covered as well. He rubbed it in for a while until it was just sticky against his skin and then held his arms out. Gayle fed the gloves back on and worked them smoothly up past his elbows. There were two ends of a thin white ribbon from inside the end seam, she pulled these snug, made a bow and then absent-mindedly tucked the bow and the ends inside the sleeve of the glove with a finger.

"There! How does that feel?"

"Ooooh," He moaned. "Mum, you have no idea how good that feels."

She smiled. "What, the gloves or the ointment?"

He looked at her, startled. "The ointment, of course. Um, I mean the whole thing. The gloves sort of squeeze against my skin and that makes everything calm down, I think. Like those long-sleeved tee shirts I have for winter."

"These are a lot more close-fitting than the sleeves of your tee shirts, Dennis. Maybe that's the answer."

"What, Mum?"

"Just a wild thought. Remind me of this conversation when we get home, won't you? Perhaps we need to be a little more open-minded about this."

"I wish the doctors would be a little more open-minded!"

"Can't disagree, Dennis. Do you want me to do up the tub?"

"Let me see if I can still do that. There ought to be something I can do with all this on."

Dennis found that he could, indeed, put the lid securely back on the tub. He returned it to the backpack.

"What will you four get up to this morning, then?"

He jerked a thumb at the soaked window glass. "Same as we have been doing the last few days, Mum. Card games or board games, I suppose. Oh!" He wiggled his gloved fingers. "Maybe there are some games I can't do now."

Gayle smiled. "I'm sure the girls will think of something."

Card games were out, since Dennis couldn't separate anything in his hand, and that also ruled out Monopoly, since he couldn't manage the banknotes. Fortunately there were enough other games in the house to keep the four occupied. The morning passed reasonably well until Gayle appeared with a tray of drinks and snacks.

"Here you are, then. There's only two biscuits each since I didn't want any of you to spoil your appetites for lunch." She put the tray on the floor between Carrie and Jennifer. "Dennis? Do you have some kind of problem?"

She had noticed him shifting about uncomfortably where he knelt on the floor.

"Uh, what, Mum? Oh..." He realised that he had been moving about because... "Mum, I think it might have come out somewhere else. Can we go off and have a look?"

"You can't have a look here?"

As he levered himself onto his feet, Dennis replied, "I don't want to drop my trousers in front of everybody, Mum. I'd rather go upstairs to look and because of these gloves I might need your help."

"Okay, I can see that. Come on, then."

The guest bedroom had more space than Dennis's tiny room so Gayle went in there to find Sylvia putting linen away.

"Oh! I didn't realise you were in here," Gayle said. "We'll go elsewhere, then."

"Why? I've seen Dennis's arms before now."

"It isn't his arms that are the problem, it might be his legs."

"His legs? That might be more awkward to deal with if that is the case. Dennis, would you mind me staying?"

"No, Aunt Sylvia, I've been here enough times you know what I look like undressed."

"But you're now a teenage boy," she pointed out, "and teenagers, from my experience, suddenly develop an urge to keep their bodies private, especially a boy in a house full of females. Are you sure you won't mind?"

"It's just going to be more ugly red rash, Aunt Sylvia. It's not like I'll be dancing naked in front of you."

"Good grief! I hope not! Gayle, I hope you remember where we keep the smelling salts!"

"Ha ha. You haven't owned any smelling salts since our grandparents were alive! All right, Dennis, what do you want me to do?"

"Just push down the waist of these joggers, Mum. I don't think I'll need to take them completely off."

The jogging bottoms had been bought new two weeks previously especially for this trip, knowing that the weather might force everybody to stay indoors. Gayle put her fingers inside the waistband each side and tugged. Once over Dennis's almost non-existant hips they fell to the floor around his ankles.

"Oh, look at that!" gasped Sylvia.

There were broad red stripes down the outside of both thighs, plus a red patch on the front of Dennis's left thigh. They were not yet the angry red lumps present on his arms, but the potential was there.

"Hmm. That looks different." Gayle inspected Dennis from all angles, noting that there appeared nothing unusual below his knees. "Any trouble with your ankles or feet?"

"Not that I've noticed, Mum."

Gayle frowned. "What could have done that, do you think? That happened suddenly, didn't it? You didn't say there was anything on your legs last night."

"No idea, Mum."

Sylvia suggested, "Could it be the material? You did tell me those bottoms were new."

"Good thinking, Syl. Dennis, can you take them off so we can look at the label? I'll help you."

With the trousers off both women scrutinised the label.

"Acrylic, 92%. Nylon, 6%, Elastane, 2%. What's this? Exclusive of trim. Oh, here. Trim, other materials."

"Well, that's a lot of use, isn't it? Gayle, what does trim mean in this instance?"

"That must be the..." Gayle turned the trousers inside out, "...fancy stripes down the sides, look! I don't know what that is made of but I bet it lines up with those marks on his legs!"

They both looked down at Dennis's legs.

"Spot on," Sylvia said, "but what about that patch at the front?"

"Yes, look here, the logo has been welded on and some of it has seeped through. Damn. It is probably too late to take these back now. I should have been more alert when we bought them but he's never had problems like this before."

"Okay, what else does he have to wear?"

"Not a lot, unfortunately. How are his jeans?" Gayle asked her sister. "Would they be ready yet?"

Sylvia shook her head. "Not a chance. They were washed yesterday but you know I can only spin, not tumble-dry. With this rain they will be the devil to get dry. And then they will need ironing or they will end up like corrugated roofing sheet. I wonder... The girls found something to help with his arms, perhaps they have something that would do for his legs."

Dennis became alarmed. "Aunt Sylvia?"

"Look, Dennis, it seems you have little option unless you keep wearing these, and I don't think you want to do that, do you? Carrie might have a pair of jeans that would fit, or..." she tailed off.

"Or." Dennis licked his lips and looked up at his mother. "Mum? Is there any other choice?"

"Well," Gayle replied, "I could jump in the car, drive through this torrential rain to an out-of-town supermarket, try and find something that might do - assuming they have anything, of course - then come back and find it doesn't fit. Or you could wear something different around the house for a day or two. You weren't planning to go out in this rain again, were you?"

Sylvia looked at him sympathetically. "Dennis, I know you're being pushed into a corner, but the girls all know what you have to put up with. I'm sure they will understand. Shall I call them up?"

He rubbed the red patch on his left thigh with the heel of his gloved hand then sighed. "Yes, Aunt Sylvia. Let's get it over with."

The girls were called and the house reverberated to the sound of a herd of elephants thundering up the stairs. Unfortunately, Dennis had overlooked one small detail.

"Look! He's wearing knickers!"

In her most repressive voice Gayle informed them, "Dennis is wearing undergarments of cotton which are the most comfortable we could find."

He was, indeed wearing standard schoolgirl's cotton briefs in dark green. Jennifer already knew this, of course, but the other two understood immediately why this had been necessary.

"Sorry, Aunt Gayle. Sorry, Dennis. It was just a bit of a surprise," said Carrie.

Andrea added, "Sorry, Dennis. I don't know what boys usually wear but I think you're brave because you have to wear those."

Carrie asked, "So what's the problem, Mums?"

"Dennis's joggers are made from the wrong material," she explained. "Look at his legs! Unfortunately his jeans won't dry for ages. Is there anything any of you can offer him to wear that is made of cotton? That includes you, Jennifer."

Carrie frowned. "I've got some denims but two of them are spray-on and the third would probably be too big. I'm not sure any of them are really denim, either. Sorry."

"How about other trousers?" asked her mother. "Pedal pushers, slacks, leggings, anything like that?"

"I don't know what material any of those are either, Mums. They are probably too big for him anyway." She smirked. "I have a few old cotton summer dresses that might fit."

"Carrie! Be serious!"

"Sorry, Mums."

"Andrea?"

"Don't know, Mother. What size is he anyhow?"

"Good point, sweetie. I'll go and fetch a tape measure."

The measure was duly fetched and Dennis's waist measured. "Hmm. Twenty-three. Not very big. Carrie, you're right, yours would just fall off him. Andrea? You're next in size, got anything you could lend your cousin?"

Gayle commented, "I'll bet that anything Andrea has would be too small. Jennifer's certainly will be."

"Possibly not too small but certainly too short," Sylvia countered. "Although she is outgrowing all her clothes right now and a raid on the shops is imminent once they all go back to school."

"There is that midi denim skirt," Andrea suggested. "Don't you remember, Mother? It was too big but you said to wait until I grow into it."

"It's a thought, sweetie. And if it really is denim, that means cotton, doesn't it?" She turned to Dennis. "Willing to give it a go? You're stuck in a house with five females, nobody is going to object if you decide to try a skirt."

Dennis thought a little while but it looked like there were few other options. "Okay, Aunt Sylvia, I'll try."

"Go and fetch it, sweetie."

The midi skirt was so new it still had the labels attached. It had six panels and covered his legs to around half his calves. Gayle fastened the waist button and pulled up the back zip.

"There, how does that fit?"

"Having never, ever, worn a skirt before I couldn't tell you, Mum," he replied.

She nodded. "It looks as if it fits you fine, dear. I was a little concerned that you'd have bare legs but it is long enough to cover most of them. Your socks just about cover the rest. Will you wear it for today?"

"I suppose, Mum." Dennis turned. "Thank you, Andrea. I'll look after your clothes while I'm wearing them."

Sylvia smiled. "Dennis? Don't make promises you can't keep! Right, you three, thank you for your help, I need to take the labels off this skirt now. You'd better go downstairs and wait for Dennis to join you."

Gayle added, "Oh, and once the skirt is off Dennis will want to put ointment on those marks. He won't be down until it has all soaked in."

"Yes" Sylvia agreed. "Wouldn't want to ruin the skirt on its first wearing."

Once downstairs again Dennis gingerly lowered himself to the carpet, finding that skirts had to be handled differently. He carefully spread out the hem, watched by the three girls.

"What do you think?"

"Feels weird. I thought it would be like shorts or something but it isn't at all. I'll get used to it, you lot did."

"Welcome to our world," said Carrie. "Well, let's get on. We were half way through our game, we should try to finish it before lunch."

Dennis remembered his drink and picked it up, noticing an omission.

"Hey! Where's the other biscuit?"

Three bland faces looked back at him. "Don't know," said Carrie. "Maybe the cat had it."

"You don't have a cat!"

* * *

Lunch was awkward. Dennis quickly figured out how to sit at the table in a skirt, after all, he had all these role models around him doing it all his life. Actually preparing and eating food was another matter. Fortunately it was sandwiches for which he had to sit and watch, red-faced, while his mother put them together. Once that was done he could just about eat the finished product by himself.

Fruit was another matter. Again, Gayle had to cut up his oranges for him to eat with a fork, and a banana had to have its skin started before he could handle the rest.

Gayle looked at him and frowned. The skirt she didn't mind, that was just the same clothes that every female wore when they ate food, but the gloves were another matter. They were definitely hampering his ability to do almost everything.

"How do your arms feel now?"

"Good, Mum. I don't think I've had to scratch for a while now. Maybe these gloves are a good idea."

"For you, maybe, but the rest of us have to run round looking after you," she pointed out. "I can bear it for a day or two but I don't think that sort of glove is going to be a long term answer."

"I would agree, Mum. These aren't designed for actual use, just for looking good on a stage, after all."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Sylvia disagreed. "Remember, these were meant to be authentic Regency accessories so young women of that time would certainly have worn something very similar. Though of course any girl who could afford to wear them would probably have had either a sister to help out or a lady's maid."

"Point taken, Aunt Sylvia, but these are different times."

"Too true."

"What do you four plan to do this afternoon, then? Anything yet arranged?"

Carrie answered, "No, Mums. Why, is there something you want one of us to do?"

"No, it's just that with all the washing and that coming down outside I'm going to need to put up some racks in the living room. That means that you won't be able to watch telly or sit on the floor like you did this morning."

"Oh, that's okay, Mums, we can go upstairs." She grinned at the others. "I'm sure we can find something to occupy us?"

"All right, then. I'll call you down when its time for a drink."

The four duly gathered in the cousins' crowded bedroom, which had a single bed either side and a chest-of-drawers and a wardrobe at the foot of each. A big vanity table was squeezed between two bedside tables at the head end, underneath the window. Carrie and Andrea sat on Carrie's bed while Dennis joined Jennifer on Andrea's bed.

"So what can we do while we're up here, then?" he asked.

"It's going to be awkward," Carrie replied. "We can't play many games and there's no room for a telly or any computers so we can't do any of that. Actually, I just had a thought, I was going to show Jennifer how that new make-up looked."

Jennifer asked, "The one from Boots?"

"Yes, that's right, I found it the Saturday before last, it is a new range, I wanted to wait until this weekend to try it. But it's going to be boring for Dennis."

"Why?" Andrea asked. "He's up here with us, he can join in, he's half girl already."

"How do you work that out? Oh, you mean the skirt?"

"And the gloves... and the knickers!"

Carrie asked, "What do you think, Dennis? It'll be something to do and you might learn something to your advantage. Boys often say they don't know why girls do certain things and now's your chance to find out why."

It was a bit sudden but there was a certain inevitability about it. He was stuck in a house with five females, after all, he already had a skirt on and nobody was going to see what he did, were they? He wasn't sure how interested he would be but otherwise the afternoon was going to be boring.

"Well, I don't know how interested I'm going to be but I don't want to spoil things for the rest of you. There's very little else I can do on my own and nowhere to do it anyway. I don't know what you have in mind but I'll do it, only there will have to be some rules."

"Rules? There will have to be, I suppose," Carrie agreed. "What, then?"

"First, you remember that I'm only wearing all this because my skin objects? I have to be careful what goes on it and I know that make-up and stuff could cause a reaction."

"Fair enough. One reason I got this new range was because it is supposed to be super hypo-allergenic. I think that means it shouldn't have anything in it that would cause a reaction. You have to remember, Dennis, that us girls have more delicate skin than you... well, than most boys anyway. Anything else?"

"Well, you can't do anything permanent. At some point I'll have to go back to school and I don't want to end up looking like a fairy. Um, it's the reactions from everybody else that concern me, really. So no eyebrow plucking, hair cutting or piercing of ears."

"Makes sense. I don't think we can do much of that anyway. We certainly can't pierce your ears for you!"

"Third, whatever you plan to do, you have to do it properly. I don't want to end up looking like a clown."

"We have no intention of making fun of anybody, Dennis. This is about seeing if the new range works. However, whenever a girl tries out something new like makeup there's always a chance it isn't going to work. That's one reason we end up with so much of the stuff. If it goes wrong then we wipe it off and have another go. That's what we do, isn't it, girls?"

There was a "Yes," from Andrea but Jennifer asked, "You'd really do this with us, Dennis? It isn't like you."

He shrugged. "I haven't got anywhere else to be and couldn't do anything there if I did have. This looks like it might be kinda interesting and I don't want to spoil the afternoon for the rest of you."

"All right, then," Carrie said. "I think I'd better show Jennifer first, since that was what I was going to do anyway. Dennis can watch and learn." She smiled at Dennis. "Then we'll have to talk about the next step."

* * *

Dennis had had his face cleaned and made up four times before Carrie was satisfied. That was partly because, as she told him, "Your face has a different base colour to your sister's so it needs different shades to bring out the best in it. The shape is also different, which means putting tones in different areas."

He stared at the apparition in the mirror of the dressing table. He was still recognisably Dennis to himself but anyone who passed him in the street might not think so. They certainly wouldn't assume it was the face of a boy either. It was unusual to have so much plastered all over his face but he had previously managed a small part in a school play so it was not a novel sensation.

"All I have to do now is not to touch it," he said, turning to the others. "That would normally be very difficult but with these gloves I have to keep away anyway."

Carrie was examining him in a very concentrated fashion. "Hmm. With that face the rest of you could do with some tweaking," she said finally. "As it is you look like something from Frankenstein's slab, not one thing or another but a mash-up of boy and girl. It's unsettling."

"Tweaking? You know I said -"

Carrie shook her head. "I don't mean I want to start plucking your eyebrows or anything, it's more your hair styling and the clothes you're wearing. That top won't do for a start. It's too big and the shades don't go with the rest of you."

"You want to take it off?" He was alarmed. "You're not making fun of me?"

"Absolutely not! You're an honorary girl for the day so we have to make you at least look like one. Dree, got any tops we could use?"

"Suppose so. Are you going to get make-up all over them? I wouldn't be too happy if that happened."

"We'll be careful getting things on and off," Carrie reassured her sister. "The last thing we need is a mess to clean up or more washing for Mums."

They very carefully lifted Dennis's camo tee shirt over his head, avoiding his caked face. Once off, a much smaller tee shirt with a bigger neckline went on instead. Carrie looked at the result.

"What do you think, girls? Does that work?"

The replacement was a very pale blue that did, as Dennis admitted to himself, match his skirt much better. The material seemed to be much softer than any of his own tee shirts and he appreciated that. It also seemed to do something interesting to his face. Who knew that what colour your clothes were could change what make-up you needed to put on?

"Okay," said Carrie. "That looks much better, shows off your figure - not that you'd want to show off your figure like that normally, of course."

"Of course," Dennis agreed faintly.

"We can't do much with your hair but maybe we can try brushing it around different ways. Will you let us do that?"

"I suppose so. I'd be interested to see what you can do with it."

"Well, if you'd had it cut as short as some of the other boys, that would be nothing at all," Carrie told him. "As it is we have a fighting chance at a short style." She grabbed a hair brush. "Hold still, now."

After a while she stepped back. The result, as seen in the dressing-table mirror, was interesting. His hair felt funny from the way it had been brushed but it made it stand out and was very definitely not boy-like.

"I didn't know it could do that," he admitted. "There's a girl looking back at me in the mirror."

"Well, almost," Carrie cautioned. "Stand up and look at yourself in the wardrobe mirror now. See anything missing?"

Dennis stood and turned. Carrie had managed to perform a miracle on unremarkable Dennis and what appeared to be a girl stood in his place. There was something missing and he - she - raised a hand to her chest.

"Right," agreed Carrie. "Are you up for the next challenge?"

"You mean... bras, don't you?"

"Yes and no. Almost all girls have something to show up there and a bra is the best way of holding something up there if you haven't got them naturally. Only problem is, I don't think that any of us are likely to have a bra that will fit you."

He turned and looked at the others with a new perspective, concentrating on their chests, specifically their chests underneath their breasts.

"I guess you're right. Can you prove it, though?"

"We can measure you. It is probably a good idea anyway."

The top was pulled up and his chest, just below the missing organs, was measured.

"Twenty-five. About what I thought. Mine are going to be too big and I know Jennifer's are going to be too small. Dree?"

"Nope. Mine are twenty-two and they are tight on me. Mum says I am due for another fitting." Andrea had another idea. "It doesn't have to be a bra, does it? All we want is something we can pad to roughly the right shape and it isn't going to need much padding anyway. How about a crop top? I have a couple I wore when the weather was much warmer."

"That's brilliant, Dree! Fetch one out."

There followed a complicated operation where the pale blue top was carefully removed so that the stretchy crop top could be put on underneath it. Some balled-up and roughly shaped school tights went into the front and then the blue top was lowered carefully back over it.

Carrie inspected his face. "No damage done, thank goodness, and I think we missed the top."

She stood back and eyed the overall result critically. "Not bad at all. Can't do much about your trainers for now but they don't scream boy at me. They'll have to do." She smiled. "Want to look at the result?"

He turned and looked at the wardrobe mirror. Since he knew what had been done, to him it was still Dennis in there, but Dennis in a surprisingly effective disguise. To someone who did not know him, it would have seemed like a girl, no doubt at all.

"That's really good," he told them. "I did not expect it to be so easy to make me disappear and a girl to take my place."

"Easy? Only partially," said Carrie. "A different boy and three other girls might have made a right mess of doing this."

"S'pose you're right. I don't think I'm ready to go outside looking like this yet. I'd just freeze, and I don't mean from the cold."

"That was never the intention, Dennis... I suppose we'd better start calling you Denise while you're like this? It's just a bit of fun that girls often have when they are together with some free time. We often fool about with make-up, fiddle with each other's hair or try on each other's clothes - assuming they fit, of course." Carrie added, "Oh, how's your skin? Got any itches?"

"From what I had earlier, there's nothing," he reported. "I'm not sure about what's in the things I'm now wearing up top, we'll just have to wait and see. Which raises the question, how long do I stay like this?"

"That's up to you, Denise. Unless you suddenly start breaking out in lumps you could stay like that the rest of the day if you want. It's not as if we'll all need to change to go out somewhere later - and you can't do that anyway, not with those gloves on your arms. If you think it's all a bit too far for a boy then we'll help you take it all off right away, no problem."

Jennifer said, "But he'll have to keep the gloves and the skirt on anyway."

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten that! What do you think, Denise? Had enough or go for it?"

"I'm actually getting comfortable dressed like this," he answered. "I still can't do anything I couldn't do before, so I'd be no worse off, but I'm wondering what our Mums are going to say."

"Possibly not very much," Carrie thought. "After all, you already wore a skirt to lunch. I suspect they might just go along with it. Your choice."

"Go for it, then," he said, drawing a deep breath. "So, what's next?"

* * *

"Girls! And Dennis!" the voice called up the stairs. "There are drinks down here for you. Do you want me to bring them up?"

Carrie looked at Dennis. "Up or down?"

"Down. Have to do it eventually."

Carrie went to the bedroom door and called back, "We'll come down, Mums!"

The four trooped downstairs and into the dining room, where the drinks stood on the table with a plate of assorted biscuits. Sylvia was waiting for them and eyebrows were inevitably raised.

"Well! It seems that I can't leave you lot alone for a minute! Who have we here?"

"Mums! This is Denise, of course."

"Oh. Right. Den, uh, Denise, you did this of your own free will?"

"I actually did, Aunt Sylvia. It was pointed out that I was half dressed as a girl to start with, and there wasn't much else I could do with these gloves on, so the experiment wasn't going to cause any problems... was it?"

Sylvia smiled. "Not to me, it doesn't, but then I'm not... Denise's mother. Gayle? Got a moment?"

Gayle came through the dining room door and stopped. "That's an interesting look, Dennis."

"Denise, Mum, while I'm like this."

"I suppose you are, at that. Is there anything you'd like to tell me, Denise? Maybe in private?"

He grinned at his mother, which looked extremely cute in his present form. "It's just a bit of wet-weather fun, Mum. I don't think I have any long-term ambitions to swap sides."

"Oh. Very well. You plan to stay like this for the rest of the day, then?"

"If you'll let me. It is interesting for any number of reasons."

"And you want to get the full flavour. I understand. Very well, then, assuming Aunt Sylvia agrees. It is her daughter's clothing you are wearing, after all."

"No objections here, Gayle. It could be an interesting change in the dynamic."

"Then I have no objections either." She gave him a look. "If you're to be my daughter, if you were not wearing those silly gloves I'd have you helping me in the kitchen!"

"Yeah," Carrie said. "There are downsides to being a girl, Denise. Be thankful you aren't suffering any of them."

The mothers went out talking and the four sat at the dining table, reaching out for their drinks.

"Oh. Is there anything special I have to do while I'm drinking this?"

"Not really," Carrie replied. "We didn't put any lipstick on you because I was worried it would go everywhere, so you just have a little bit of lipgloss on. Inevitably it'll come off on the glass but that happens to all of us. If we were all out, say at the mall, with full warpaint on, then we'd have to take precautions. You don't need to worry about any of that."

"Me? At the mall? I've been a girl for about an hour. If I wanted to go that far, and it is a very big if, I'd first want to get used to doing things like this, as Denise. That's not something I'd pick up quickly, you all have such a different set of mannerisms, of walking, of doing everything. That would take time we don't have. We're only here on holiday, after all."

"Chill. That was only a for-instance. We're just stuck in a house having a bit of fun, that's all."

"And I have to admit it, I wasn't sure at the beginning, but I am having fun now."

* * *

The four were setting out the table for dinner - well, three were, the fourth was doing as much as the gloves let him - when the man of the house came home. Sylvia had just handed a stack of plates to Dennis when he stuck his head around the dining room door.

"Hello, Syl. Not a good day today but everything seems to be holding. Hello girls - and who's this?"

"This is your other niece Denise. She turned up today, I don't know how long she'll be staying."

"Oh. Hello, Denise."

"Hello, Uncle Phil."

"Yes. Well, if you'll be staying I'll expect the same behaviour from you that I get from my daughters, understand?"

"Yes, Uncle Phil." The other three girls giggled.

He turned to Sylvia. "Do I want to know?"

"It's complicated and relatively innocent, Phil. So far. I don't think it's going to be a problem." She reached up and gave him a kiss. "The roast is okay in the oven if you're not too long, I just have to finish off the veg. Say half an hour."

Shaking his head, he backed out of the doorway. "Whatever you say, Syl."

The meal began well enough but disaster struck part way through eating the main course. A fork was fumbled in a gloved hand and gravy-covered beef fell onto a denim lap.

"Oh, no! Sorry, Aunt Sylvia. I thought I was going to be all right."

She jumped up, as did Gayle. "That's all right, we should have made allowances for your arms. Wait there, I'll go and fetch a damp cloth."

As Sylvia disappeared Gayle said, "I should have thought ahead and asked for an apron, Denise. Can you scoop that meat up?"

"I think so, Mum."

In a short while the meat in question had been eaten and the front of the skirt dabbed mostly clean with a damp cloth. Dennis sat for the rest of the meal with one tea-towel on his legs under the skirt to keep them from the damp denim and another on top of the skirt to catch any more spills. That did not prevent all the others watching him closely to make sure that nothing else happened.

He was glad when they were finished and were able to leave the table. The racks had been moved from the living room so everyone could relax in there - as much as they could. Gayle removed the tea towels and inspected the skirt closely.

"Syl, I think he can wear this the rest of the evening. It has mostly dried off and there's no point him changing now."

"Fair enough. What's the damage like? Is it clean enough to wear tomorrow? You already know there isn't much else available."

"No. It is dry enough and there is no excess food here to fall off but there is a stain. Sorry, Syl, more washing for you, and it's denim again."

"Yeah, well, what's one more item in the washing basket? We'll leave tomorrow until then, I think, maybe he can put his jeans back on."

"Hmm. We'll see."

After a short silence Phil asked, "Is somebody going to tell me what is going on? Suddenly Dennis is a girl and you all seem to have no problem with that."

There were giggles from the girls. Gayle said, "It is a combination of unlikely circumstances, Phil. I'll tell you all."

Gayle explained what had happened, which Phil didn't seem to quite believe but had to accept.

"Well, it's something to do on a wet Sunday, I suppose." He waved a finger at the four. "Just remember there is a boy somewhere under that outfit! I know you are all sensible but we don't want accidents, do we?"

Two responses of, "No, Dad," and two of, "No, Uncle Phil," along with some icked-out expressions.

"Now we've got that over with," Gayle said to Dennis, "it's probably time we took those gloves off and let your arms have some air... although, thinking about it, maybe you can spread some more ointment on them and leave them to dry naturally before bed."

"That's a good idea, Mum. That way I won't get anything on my pyjamas tonight."

"That was the point, yes. Why don't you go and fetch down the ointment and then I'll take your gloves off afterwards? That way we'll avoid any more accidents."

Dennis went upstairs and returned with the tub. Gayle then unpeeled the gloves, revealing his arms for the first time in hours.

Andrea giggled. "He looks even more like a girl now!"

Sylvia said, "Yes, well, don't embarrass the boy any more, Dree."

"I'm not embarrassed, Aunt Sylvia," Dennis responded, "I'm long past that point. It's okay to call me a girl, seeing as I look like one for now."

"If you insist, Denise. Are you going to put the ointment on now or just stand there?"

Gayle said, "Hey! That's my line!" She looked at the gloves, examining their condition. "I think you can probably wear these tomorrow, Denise, but no longer. Most of the ointment went in your skin and I can see very little on the gloves themselves, except down at the finger end. These are not meant to be worn for long periods. We might have to think of something else if this rain doesn't let up."

Sylvia added, "Don't worry for now, either of you. I'm sure we'll manage. Phil, how was your day?"

"Well, you know there are three reservoirs up Barnsdale? All three are completely full but the situation is holding for now. The middle one, Harrowby Reservoir, was looking a bit strained so -"

* * *

"What on Earth have you got on under here?"

"A crop top, Mum. Carrie decided I couldn't look like a girl properly unless I had the right shape."

"And she was right, wasn't she? You looked very presentable. Let me ease this top over your head - Oh, I see. What is it stuffed with?"

"Some old tights, I think. It felt funny walking around with those out in front of me, I can understand why some girls poke them out."

"Some girls poke them out because they have to," Gayle said. "Let me lift this up... yes, tights, old school ones by the look of things. Close your eyes... there. Now you can put your pyjama top on. Where was I? Oh, yes. Tights weigh nothing but real breasts can be really heavy, Dennis. We have to carry that weight around somehow and it can affect a girl's balance, especially when she is growing and they are changing all the time. That may be why some stick them out."

"I didn't think of that, Mum."

"Why would you need to? There, ready for bed. Anything itching? What about from all the things you wore today?"

"Nothing so far, Mum."

"Right, then, I'll leave you to your book. Don't read too late, now."

"No, Mum."

"Good night, then, Dennis. You are Dennis at the moment, aren't you?"

"I am, Mum. Good night."