Diva Dismayed: Chapter 4 – All girls together
Rachel’s apartment was small. In addition to the bedroom, it had only a single living space which served as sitting room, kitchen and diner. I was thankful to be able to flop down into one of the two easy chairs while she busied herself making us both a much needed coffee. I was almost shaking with the stress of all that had happened.

“You need to sit still and try to unwind” was her assessment. Empathetic as ever, she sensed how mentally exhausted I must be after everything I’d been through that day.

“Harvey’s the delivery guy around here. He gets a little fresh at times, but I think he’s okay. Anyway, it can’t be helped, we’ll just have to trust him to keep our secret” she mused. “Of course no-one here will have any idea about that other ‘little secret’ of yours. It will make your life a lot easier if we can keep it that way.”

I nodded in whole-hearted agreement. It was some years ago that I had first started dressing as a girl. I had been coerced into the practice by my mother’s weird ideas on discipline. After my father left us the frequency of my times in female attire had increased more and more until it wasn’t unusual for me to find myself dressed in girl’s clothing for days on end. Initially I had resisted as much as I could but found it of no avail. Each time I rebelled only made the punishment regime more severe. It wasn’t just clothes. Hair, nails and make-up were included and I was expected to adopt the corresponding girlish behaviours, practices and pastimes. Latterly I had given up the struggle altogether. It was easier to take the path of least resistance. Once I’d accepted the feminine lifestyle imposed on me, I found that there were some elements of it that I could even enjoy. My new persona had become who I was.

In the back of my head there still lurked the idea that one day my masculinity might actually be restored, though by what actual means I couldn’t determine. My prevailing dream perhaps was more of a fantasy. I had pondered the matter deeply on the long bus ride here and had come to the conclusion that I must start to make some changes if I was ever to achieve what I longed for. The thought of dispensing with all the pretence I had to keep up was unimaginably inviting. I was very aware that, while ever I lived as some sort of pseudo girl, the consequences of exposure could be quite severe. As things stood, the fewer people that got to know my birth gender the better. So while regaining my manhood was presently nothing but an idea, there was strong enough motivation for it.

Nevertheless, a glance downwards served to undermine most of my resolve by reminding me of the pair of twin obstacles on my chest which thrust themselves on my notice, literally! Their existence was enough to disrupt any plans I might entertain, as also was the extent to which the copious skirts of my wedding gown filled both the seat I was occupying and its neighbour. The illusion that my hips were a yard wide as unfounded as it was unwelcome, but it made me all too aware that my butt and thighs were rounder and bigger than any teenage youth ought to expect. It was all so confusing.

Back to the present, when Rachel had satisfied herself that I was comfortable, she went in search of some alternative clothing, returning with a couple of summery dresses from her closet. I was made to stand up so that she could hold each against me in turn. Although to me they appeared to be a little on the large side my rescuer was pleased to announce that either would satisfy my need.

That point established, she led me into the bedroom and pointed to the top drawer of her dresser. “You could probably do with some everyday underwear as well so help yourself.” Then my ministering angel left me to my own devices with the comforting words “I’ll make us a sandwich, you must be famished!”

When she had gone I hastened to strip off the too-tight wedding dress and its equally constricting underpinnings. Once I’d removed everything, I wrapped myself in a loose robe which was hanging on the back of the bedroom door. I was tempted to lay back on the bed and close my eyes, but I made a supreme effort to exert myself and opened the drawer Rachel had indicated to make my selection of underwear. All those frilly things before my eyes made an enchantingly pretty sight. Her lingerie was neatly arrayed and looked invitingly fresh and clean.

Searching for something of an everyday nature, I picked out a bra in a shade of cream. The material had pretty pink flowers and was edged with a little lace. Though obviously worn and washed many times it still in good shape. Another point in its favour was that the bra’s straps could be attached in different ways, making it suitable to be worn under a variety of styles of dresses and tops. Threading my arms though the bra straps I eased my bust into the cups then fastened the hooks behind my back. It was satisfying to put it on like that instead of joining the hooks at the front and twizzling the garment round. My mother always insisted on doing little things the ‘right’ way and much practise had made me all too adept at performing these kind of contortions.

I was also incongruously pleased to find that there were some panties which matched the bra. I slipped them on to find they were a little loose fitting but they probably would be fine, or so I reckoned. That I might come to regret this selection in just a few days’ time never crossed my mind. My friend clearly liked to coordinate her lingerie. Such a consideration wasn’t important to me, naturally. Well, perhaps just a little. Okay, a whole lot! I have to admit it was a preference I indulged whenever I could. No doubt that was strange in someone whose avowed goal was to regain their masculinity!

To know I was wearing some of my idol’s clothes seemed to form an additional bond of intimacy between us and a little frisson of excitement passed through me at the thought. That was weird! Such feelings couldn’t be right! I reflected that Rachel and I were just like sisters, so I needed to make a more determined effort to think of our relationship in that light. I turned to check my image in the mirror. The sight brought me back to reality with a bump. Standing there in bra and panties was a figure with curves which surpassed most of those of the girls in my class at high school. Aargh!

How a boy could have developed as female a body as mine might be an occasion of surprise, but the explanation is straight-forward. My mother, herself a nurse, had somehow obtained a prescription for me as part of her feminising regime. Around the time of my fourteenth birthday and thereafter there were some mysterious salmon-coloured pills for me to take each day; ‘vitamins’ as I then believed. I wasn’t given any choice in the matter and by the time I’d been subject to this medication for twelve months, I seemed to have gained weight in all the wrong places. When I queried the way in which I seemed to be ‘developing’ with my mom, she merely gave a satisfied smile and told me it was important to balance my hormones. The dosage was increased! In my innocence, and ignorance, I didn’t connect my problematic body shape with the meds at all, but before long I found that I had a bust as well-developed as many girls of my years, not to mention a bigger bottom end.

Despite my bodily curves, I knew better than to expect to fill one of Rachel’s bras and straightaway what I saw in the mirror bore out my surmise. A foundation garment which could accommodate my friend’s generous bosom would be sizes too large for mine. I fastened its band on the tightest set of hooks and tried adjusting the bra straps but the fit still wasn’t great. It was obvious that the ends of the cups were undisguisedly empty!

I had just resigned myself to the conclusion that I would have to ‘make do’, when the owner of the lingerie put her head around the door to check on my progress.

“Supper’s ready” she called, then “How are you getting on?” Seeing the dismayed expression on my face, she came into the room and looked me up and down. At the end of this scrutiny her face likewise wore a frown. “Not bad. But I think we might need to do something about your… your top half.”

Rachel stood for a moment considering, then quickly she crossed to her dresser and when she turned back to face me I could see she was holding a wad of tissues and some balls of cotton wool. To my consternation, the next moment I found that she had taken my breasts in hand, so to speak! She calmly proceeded to insert and shape the padding inside first one of the bra cups and then the other, heedless of any embarrassment I might be feeling. I experienced my chest being unceremoniously kneaded and squeezed until my bra had taken on the desired shape. She laughed gaily seeing the look of protest on my face. “Relax! I’m a nurse, remember!”

Ruefully, I did my best to surrender myself to be so helped. Her attentions were giving me some undesirable sensations down below which I had to force myself to ignore. What would she think of me if she knew?! I couldn’t be sure, but there was a look in my friend’s eyes which showed she might have been aware of these conflicting emotions. Once she had padded the bra out to her satisfaction, she stood back to admire the effect.

“Perfect! Although…”

A downward glance at my nether regions had given occasion for a further concern. “You might want to try a different pair of panties” she smiled, snapping the waist elastic of the item in question against my skin. “These are about worn out.”

To hide my blushes I ignored her word of caution and gave my attention to the dresses. I could see that both had stretchy waists, so that although their owner was at least a size bigger than me, either of them ought to fit me well enough. In my situation of total dependence I wasn’t disposed to be too critical in any case. In the end I chose to wear a full skirted frock in white with a floral pattern. Once I’d slipped it over my head Rachel pulled up the zipper and turned me around to face the mirror. I gave an involuntary gasp. The material was taut across my chest and all I seemed to see was the prominence of my newly augmented bosom. It was certainly eye-catching. Carrying it off, so to speak, would take some getting used to!

She laid some hose on the bed with a cautionary “Be careful with these, please. They’re my only spare pair.”

Once I was dressed in these clothes, I began to feel more like myself and when my friend pointed out I needed to do something about my hair I was ready for whatever she suggested. My natural hair had grown nearly to my shoulders and some months ago had been lengthened by the addition of extensions. When it had been styled for my wedding a fall had also been added in. With all this extra volume the result looked amazing but there was no way that I could keep it like that. Rachel removed the hairpiece but insisted I retain the extensions. As an experiment she braided some strands and pinned up the back into a pony tail. It was a practical style as well as being youthful and modern. Looking in the glass I felt happy with the result.

I felt even better once we were seated in the living room and were eating. Rachel tried to hide her amusement as I wolfed down the sandwiches she had made, but I didn’t care. I’d had virtually nothing at breakfast and not a morsel since.

When my appetite had been sufficiently blunted, she became practical once more. “Now the next thing we ought to do is to let your mom know where you are. She’s bound to be worried and she’s got to be contacted some time. The sooner the better if you can face it. Your fi-an-cé too, for that matter.” A covert smile accompanied her enunciation of those syllables. Then looking at the panicked expression on my face she added gently “though perhaps that can wait.”

I knew Rachel was right, but I was dreading the impending interview. I was mightily relieved when she proposed putting through the call to my parent herself. I would be spared the first fury of my mother’s displeasure and disappointment. However there was a feeling other than anxiety which I was struggling to deal with. Guilt! I knew that my mother did care for me, even if it was in her own unusual fashion, and that I’d let her down in some fashion.

The call was connected straightaway. “Hello. Mrs Cartwright? It’s Rachel… Fine, thank-you. I’m calling to let you know that Jennifer’s here with me……”
She held the receiver away from her ear for a moment. When there was a lull in its screeching, she resumed “I know….. I know….. But she just couldn’t cope with it all today, I think. She’s anxious for you to know where she is, so as not to worry you.”

Some minutes elapsed while the phone continued to squawk loudly and my mother gave vent to her feelings. Even though Rachel would not be exposed to their full force as no doubt I would have been, the exchange was unpleasant enough and my poor friend couldn’t help wincing. I was grateful that the violence of my parent’s anger had dissipated a little when eventually the handset was passed over to me.

“Well, and just what have you got to say for yourself, young lady?” Instead of launching into the monologue of disapproval for which I was bracing myself, Mom seemed to be prepared to listen to my side of things. That was unexpected! I held the telephone so that my friend could hear what was said and tried to explain.

“I’m really sorry, Mom” I started. “For all the trouble I know I’ve caused you. And the expense too, Madeleine’s as well as yours. But I just couldn’t go through with it. Not just because of the age difference, it would never have worked. Believe me!”

An awkward silence, then, “That’s all very well, but don’t you think you might have made that decision a bit sooner?”

I could tell that she was about to build up a head of steam again so put in quickly “I just never seemed to get the chance, Mom. Everything was happening so fast. The last weeks went by in such a rush. I couldn’t think straight and you were so pleased for me, too. I didn’t want to disappoint you. And I know that I have!” At this I broke down and sobbed into the mouthpiece.

Another silence, then my parent seemed to soften. She actually sounded like she wanted to comfort me. “Well, it’s no good crying. What’s done can’t be undone. At least you chose a good friend to go to, and you’re safe. That’s some small mercy! You don’t deserve such friends and when I think of what all this will have cost her I don’t know how I can look Madeleine in the face.”

“I know!” I sniffed, with a watery smile in Rachel’s direction.

I felt overwhelmingly relieved that the conversation was taking a better direction. My mother continued in this moralising vein for some minutes while I murmured acquiescing responses.

Finally my parent’s manner became business-like, as she abruptly turned her attention to plans for my future. “And now I imagine you’ll be expecting me to drive all the way over there to come and get you? Or are you planning to stay?”

The reality was that I hadn’t thought any further ahead than today but my parent’s ironic question contained a suggestion which I seized upon like a lifeline, even though I was very certain that never for a minute had she seriously entertained the idea. I knew that I would never escape my girlish trappings if I tamely went home.

“I’m going to stay!”

“Are you crazy? What about your education… and… and just who will be paying for your keep?”

I’d clearly taken the wind out of Mom’s sails for the moment and that put a little more courage into me.
“I’ll get a job, at least for the summer. It’ll give me time to decide what to do about school after that. I’m sure I can earn enough to support myself till then.”

A stunned silence then “Well what about clothes? You must have nothing at all to wear.”

At this my rescuer came once more to my aid. “Hi Mrs Cartwright, it’s me again. I can lend her some things for a day or too, so don’t worry. She will be fine here with me for as long as she wants. I think she just needs some time.”

I sat there in a dull stupor while Rachel and Mom discussed practicalities. By the end of the telephone call I felt a lot happier, although that was mainly because the ordeal was over! My mother seemed to have accepted the status quo, which was something I hadn’t dared to hope for. She had even relented enough to talk of packing up a trunk with some of my things and shipping it across. Best of all, there had been no insistence on my immediate return, the prospect of which I would have found unbearable right then. It was a huge relief for my jangled nerves that I was not to be hauled back immediately to face the music.

While I endeavoured to come to terms with this latest twist in my fortunes, another of my requirements began to make its presence felt. It dawned on me that, though her apartment had its own kitchenette, some other basic needs were not so ideally catered for.

“Er… Rachel. Where is your bathroom?” I enquired, and with some urgency.

“Oh!” she exclaimed with a wry smile. “It’s just down the hallway. But… we have to share one between all the rooms that are on this landing. Yes, and you ought to know that the lock on its door doesn’t work. As a lock that is.” Seeing my look of concern she reassured me “Though it doesn’t keep the door fastened, if you turn the inside knob then the little red indicator does get displayed on the outside to warn that the room is occupied. That way you may possibly get some privacy! But… it’s best to be quick. It’s either that or you whistle!”

With this warning in my ears, I made the short journey across the landing with a mixture of urgency and wariness in my mind. My needs were past becoming pressing! Afterwards, when I had washed my hands and was checking my make-up in the mirror over the sink, my attention was caught by footsteps hastily approaching. The sound increased until in climax, the door burst open, heralding the entrance of a small stocky female in spectacles. I gaped as without a word she dashed to the toilet and lifting her skirt, unceremoniously slid down her panties and sat to pee.

“Sorry”, she smiled apologetically. “Couldn’t wait a second longer!”

Observing my somewhat startled gaze in the mirror, she laughed disarmingly. “My name’s Della!”

“Oh, I… I’m Jennifer” I stammered, trying not to look at her.

Seeing the shocked expression on my face she pealed with laughter again. “Hi, Jennifer. Nice to know you! Don’t look so worried. We’re all girls together here!”
All girls together? Not even close!