While Heath enjoyed sports, he wasn't strong or agile enough to really be good. When it came to picking teams, he wasn't the last to be chosen but he was certainly never in the first half of those selected. Working out and practicing to become stronger and more agile were not things he wanted to do. The school jocks generally didn't give him the time of day and they certainly didn't want a loser like him hanging with them.
The group Heath ended up hanging with was with the wanna-be tough guys. At least twice a week he ended up in detention. His parents were frustrated with his lack of drive and inclination to get into all sorts of mischief. Parent-teacher conferences always boiled down to the fact that Heath was not living up to his potential and hanging with the wrong bunch of kids. At home he didn't want to do any chores. He had to be screamed at before he'd take out the garbage. His bedroom looked like a garbage dump. His clothes were baggy, oversized and patched. His sneakers were threadbare. He wore his scraggly fiery red hair well past his shoulders simply because he knew it irritated the hell out of his parents. Nothing his parents did ever suited him.
Heath's parents were firmly in the upper-middle class. They really cared about their son but were so frustrated with his laziness and poor attitude they were ready to throw in the towel. His mother, Helen, 39, did not have a job but did extensive volunteer work. She did her best to keep their home clean and comfortable and was a great cook. She was a lady in every sense of the word. His father, Fred, 41, was a structural engineer for Balkut Engineering, a small but dynamic privately owned engineering firm. Year after year he hoped for a promotion to become a project manager but each opening seemed to go to one of the other engineers who had a little more experience in that particular area. While this frustrated him, his boss and owner of the business, Harry Balkut, 55, recognized Fred's skills and made sure his pay was always tops. Thus, the carrot always dangled.
Heath had hit puberty at 13. The first sign was a growth spurt. In the summer of that year he grew from a chunky 110 pounds 4 feet 10 inch boy into a lanky 115 pound 5 feet 4 inch awkward teenager. Then came erections in the night and wet dreams. It didn't take long for him to build up a clandestine collection of pornographic magazines which he used to satiate his seemingly constant arousal. Naturally Bay Watch reruns were his favorite TV shows. By the time he reached 14, his voice was at that awkward stage where it would crack at the most inopportune times. Like most boys at his age and development, he could think of little besides sex and girls. Sex he could only dream about. Girls he could only look at since no girl gave him a second glance and the few times he asked a girl out they laughed in his face. The only relief he could obtain was by his own hands.
And look he did. At every opportunity. Last year just before completing the eighth grade he even snuck into the girls' locker room but could find no place to hide. He hurriedly fled when he heard the girls returning. During the summer on cloudy nights he'd lock himself into his bedroom then slip out the window to wander about his neighborhood attempting to peer into the windows of the prettier girls and women. A few times he did manage to catch sight of some curvy flesh. More often, however, he encountered a not too friendly dog. Once he was chased by the cops but managed to escape. Still he persisted in his voyeuristic adventures.
He began the ninth grade on Wednesday. By Thursday he had already earned a session of after school detention. The afternoon was warm and bright. Heath was quite dejected. His love life was zilch. He had no close friends. As he walked out of the school, he just wanted to be alone to brood upon his meager existence. To avoid the other students meandering down the sidewalks, Heath decided to take a shortcut home.
The path Heath chose was shorter in distance but the terrain was such that it would take him longer. That prospect didn't bother him since there was nothing for him at home except more nagging from his parents. Behind the school was a steep heavily wooded rocky hill. Abrupt cliffs and steep inclines were the reason the area had never been developed as had virtually every other area in his community. It was still virgin forest with many trees more than a hundred years old and quite a few considerably older than that. As he sought a path up the jagged face of the cliff behind the school, he was lost in his misery. Upon reaching the top he heard giggling happy girlish voices that sounded quite clear coming from his left. Curious because he knew there was a cliff on his immediate left, he began to investigate. It took a few moments to pinpoint the exact location of the voices but he was unable to see anything through the dense foliage. Looking about for a better vantage point he saw an ancient oak tree with a trunk at least eight feet in diameter. The old oak towered above the smaller trees rooted lower down the rugged cliff face. About twenty feet up was a crotch formed by six branches spreading in different directions. A smaller tree had fallen against the mighty oak and the eight-inch trunk formed a ramp up to the crotch. After scrambling up the fallen tree trunk he stood in the sizeable crotch of the oak and looked in the direction of the voices. The line of sight was unobstructed and to his delight he spied the cheerleaders practicing!
Now the school officials were well aware how fascinated many of the teenage boys and not a few men were with the cheerleaders. In an effort to keep the leering voyeurs at bay, the administrators had enclosed a flat grassy area behind the school building at the base of the inaccessible wooded cliff with a twelve-foot high brick wall. The girls practiced their routines inside, safe from the prying eyes of sex-starved teens boys. Because of this security, they were considerably less inhibited. About half the girls wore body hugging leotards. The others wore skin tight biker shorts and matching really snug sports bras. The girls also often engaged in quite lewd spirited play. They tried to outdo each other in their ability to utilize their tantalizing teenage girlish charms to strike provocative poses.
What Heath discovered that day was every horny boy's dream. The perfect spot that overlooked the enclosed practice area allowing an unblemished view of the sexy cheerleaders while they practiced. At the same time he was camouflaged by the trees so the cheerleaders would never spot him. Needless to say the boy was delighted. Even at a distance of 200 feet he could see enough to excite his lust. He settled into the crotch of the tree as if it were an easy chair and opened his fly. By the time the cheerleaders finished their practice, so had Heath.
Harry Balkut also had a rather significant day. A little after noon while on an extended executive lunch he suffered a fatal heart attack in the bed of his 18 year-old mistress. The news swept through the stunned office like a wild fire. No one was really surprised since they all knew Harry's predilection for sexy young girls. Most people assumed that when his wife had fatally overdosed on sleeping pills 15 years ago it had been out of frustration due to Harry's incessant philandering. That death had put a severe strain on the relationship between Fred and Harry. The two couples had been close friends. Most of the men in the office knew that Harry had often claimed he wanted to die with a smile on his face in the bed of a hot girl.
The main concern of most of the employees was what would happen to the very successful business. If it was sold, how would that affect their jobs? The only relative and most likely the sole beneficiary of Harry's estate would be his estranged daughter Hillary. Unfortunately, no one in the office knew a thing about Hillary since she had left home at 16 just after her mother's funeral.
Fred Reilly came home with a heavy heart. His friend and boss was gone. Not only that, but he was greatly concerned about his job security. What would the new owner do with a highly paid employee with 17 years of experience who never managed a project?
Helen was making supper when Fred entered the kitchen to give her his welcome home hug and receive her welcome home kiss. Before he could even tell her about his terrible day, she broke into tears of frustration over Heath. The school had called to inform her about Heath earning detention on the second day of classes.
This was more than Fred could take. With his face beet red he stormed from the kitchen to Heath's bedroom. Helen had never seen Fred so angry and meekly followed. Without knocking he barged right into the room to discover Heath naked sitting against the headboard of his bed. A well worn heavily stained porno mag was lying open on his lap since his hands were otherwise occupied.
Heath gasped in surprise but was unable to stop his eruption. As Fred stopped short, Helen bumped into him. Both witnessed Heath's all too healthy ejaculation splash all over the naked centerfold. Both parents were shocked. In a blind fury Fred stormed to the bed and slapped Heath across the face.
"So this is why you can't do your homework," Fred ranted as he snatched the soggy magazine and shook it in front of Heath's face.
Droplets of semen sprinkled from the fluttering pages to land all over the naked teen and his bed. A bright red hand print appeared on the side of Heath's face as tears of pain and terror filled his eyes. Helen was simply unable to cope with the situation and just placed her hands over her face and fled from the room in tears.
"You little snotnosed son of a bitch," Fred yelled as he flung the sticky magazine onto Heath's chest. "This is the thanks your mother and I get for giving you everything. You filthy pervert! What do you think your mother thinks of you now? This smut... in our house... after getting detention on the second day of school! Your ass is grass, boy! Clean this filth up... NOW! I want every filthy magazine or book you have in the trash can. If you have any cigarettes or drugs, they better be in there too. I want a full accounting of every piece of shit you have. I'll be back in an hour so you can show me what you have. Then I'm going to search this room from top to bottom. May heaven help you if I find anything! I'll decide what your punishment will be after I've seen everything. Maybe by then I'll be calm enough not to strangle you!"
With that he turned to leave but stopped in the door. "If you try to sneak out your window, I will kill you," Fred brusquely whispered through clenched teeth. "Officer O'Brien called me two weeks ago to see if you were home. He thought he spotted you peeping into windows over on Jefferson street. I told him it had to be some other boy since you were in your room. After he hung up, I checked your room. You weren't here and your window was open. I was outside when you came sneaking home to crawl back inside. If you want to call the cops about child abuse, think about that first." Fred turned and slammed the door.
Helen was still in the hall outside the bedroom. Her sobbing had stopped but tears still trickled down her cheeks. She had not wanted to stay in the room during the confrontation between Heath and Fred, yet she was afraid to go too far away in case Fred flipped out and began to beat Heath. As a result, she heard everything that had been said. Her son was not only on his way to becoming a complete delinquent. He apparently was also well on the way to becoming a pervert! She knew she had to do something to turn Heath around but was at a total loss about what to do.
Heath sat on his bed trembling. His dad knew about his peeping. He caught him masturbating. His mom had seen him doing it. He knew he was dead meat. If he didn't get all his illicit stuff together and his dad found it, he knew whatever punishment he was going to get would be far worse than it was already bound to be. It would be hopeless to accuse his parents of chid abuse because they'd just turn him in for being a peeping Tom. In short, he was screwed. For the first time in months, Heath felt remorseful for his misdeeds. With tears trickling from his eyes and his left cheek stinging from the slap that had rattled his teeth, he grabbed some tissues and began to clean himself.
It had been years since his dad had laid a hand upon him. Never before had he seen his father so lividly angry. Slowly he dressed, choosing clothes that fit and were clean rather than his normal oversized sloppy clothes. Then he pulled out his meager porno collection which he’d scavenged from trash cans. Then came his cigarettes which he really didn't like anyway. He only smoked because it was cool. For a while he thought about trying to hide his pot, but thought better of it and tossed the baggy full of weed into the waste basket. Then like a man awaiting the electric chair, he sat and waited.
Helen anxiously followed Fred into the living room after he left Heath's room. She had been shocked to see her little boy doing that. She knew boys did those things, but had refused to face the possibility that her son would do it. She was also quite worried about Fred. Something bad had to have happened at work to set him off so harshly when confronted with Heath's detention.
Fred entered the living room with determination. Without even looking at Helen who was silently following, he went to the liquor cabinet, took out his prized bottle of 20 year-old scotch and broke the seal. Helen watched in numbed silence as he put the bottle to his lips and chugged about a third of the golden nectar. She now knew something horrible had happened at work since Fred seldom drank and then only in extreme moderation. She also knew to keep quiet.
When he pulled the bottle from his lips, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. With a loud belch and a deep sigh he looked at his fearful wife. "I'm sorry but you may as well not finish supper," he stated softly as he collapsed in his lounge chair. "After I check Heath's room, I'm going to get drunk... if I make it that long."
With that he took another long slug from the bottle while Helen waited. "Harry had a heart attack in his girlfriend's bed. He's dead."
Helen gasped. They had often joked about such a thing happening but had never really considered it likely. Now it had happened. She knew of Fred's worries about his job. They had often discussed what they would do if he lost his job with Balkut Engineering. She also understood Fred's blow up over Heath's detention. "I'll put the food away," Helen said softly. "I think we need to be together tonight."
Fred glumly nodded and smiled weakly as Helen left the room.
When the hour was up, Fred returned to Heath's bedroom. By that time he was feeling little pain and had drifted into a melancholy funk. Helen accompanied him. Heath was shocked to see his father was near drunk. Never before had he sen him that way. This only reinforced his fears and anxiety.
"I'm sorry for slapping you earlier," Fred began in a slow and deliberate manner. "Harry Balkut died this afternoon. I may not have a job much longer. I'm afraid I took my frustration out on you. But son, you have been driving us to this point for the past two years. Is this everything?"
Fred began to rummage through the waste basket. "Marijuana... cigarettes... porn...,” Fred mumbled as he searched. "This isn't what we expect from our son. But I suppose this is all you'll give us... heartache and stupidity. Can we ever expect more from you? We can punish you for this... but will it do any good? Your mother and I are at the end of rope. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Heath was stunned. He never expected this. Rather, he expected a long tedious lecture... not brutal honesty. "I... I don't know," Heath stuttered. "I guess I never thought about it."
"That's quite obvious," Fred replied sadly. "I'm willing to forget about all this and start clean. You'll be closely watched. I'll be searching your room and you without warning. If I find even a trace of this junk, we're through with you. Harry Balkut suggested I send you to a tough military academy last year when we first began to have serious problems. Now I'm ready to send you there. But we'll give you one last chance. No more detention, no more porn, no more cigarettes, no more drugs, no more trouble, is that clear?"
Heath meekly nodded his head.
"We also expect you to do better in school," Helen added. "Not straight A's, although that would be nice, but a few A's and a lot of B's. Can you do that for us and yourself? We love you and want to keep you home with us, but if you can't straighten up, we'll have no choice but to send you away."
"I'll try," Heath replied softly.
"Good," Fred snorted as he picked up the trash. "Now let's all get some sleep so we can start anew tomorrow."
With that they all turned in for a rather sleepless night.
Heath was scared. There had been no long lecture. There had been no spanking. There was only the warning to be good or else. Just the thought of a military school sent shivers through his body. With a sigh of surrender he decided he'd better toe the line for a while. At least until his father's concerns about work eased. He could survive without the cigarettes and drugs. After all he never really cared for them. Giving up the porn would be harder. But at least he still had his secret spot from which he could watch the cheerleaders. With these thoughts he fell asleep.
Heath managed to keep his nose clean on Friday. After school... with no detention... he scurried to his oak tree outpost and snuggled into his nest with a pair of binoculars so he could see the cute girls better. Knowing this would be his only daily chance to relieve his teenage angst, he took full advantage of the opportunity.
That same morning, the day after Harry's death, Fred sat in his office nursing a tremendous hangover while trying to work. Kaye Gantz, the company's 50 year-old executive secretary, buzzed him to come to the conference room. As he left his office, he noted everyone else in the office was heading for the conference room. Something big was up. Upon entering the office he saw a beautiful blonde woman about 30 years old arrogantly sitting in Harry Balkut's chair.
Fred joined the other men in silently drinking in the woman's natural beauty. She was dressed in a tight red business suit that showed of her voluptuous figure. Suddenly Fred recognized her. She was Hillary Balkut, Harry's estranged daughter! It certainly had not taken her long to return. Quietly he sidled to the back of the room and leaned against the wall.
Once everyone was assembled, Hillary spoke. "I'm Hillary Balkut. I don't like beating around the bush so I'll be blunt. My father and I hadn't spoken in 15 years. Our estrangment was strictly personal and I will not go into details. Suffice it to say I hated his guts. Despite this, my father left everything to me. I now own Balkut Engineering. You each work for me. My father's funeral will be Monday morning. The office will be closed so everyone can attend. Business will resume on Tuesday."
"I will be taking over the daily operations and have no desire to sell the business," Hillary continued. "I have a BA degree in business administration and a Master’s degree in Engineering. I'm not some incompetent dummy you can slip things past. If you want to work for me, I'll expect you to work hard. In return, I'll pay you well, better than my father, but you will earn it."
"I arrived early this morning and spent the time reviewing each of your records," Hillary stated. "I'm not satisfied with what I've seen. There are too many days off, too few hours worked, and too many deadlines missed. I've dictated my recommendations for each of you and Kaye will be typing them up. You'll receive your copies on Tuesday morning. I expect you to sign the recommendations and adhere to them. I want them back by Tuesday afternoon at 3:00. Anyone not returning the signed recommendations to me by then will be considered terminated with a one month severance pay. I still have a lot to review, so please don't bother me now. On Wednesday morning I'll hold a meeting for those of you who are still employed here. It will be an open session so bring your questions then. Thank you for coming. You may go."
With that curt dismissal, the concerned employees filed out of the board room. Whispered worries about their individual future with the firm created a soft rumble. As Fred waited the others to leave, he thought back to the last time he had seen Hillary.
It had been at her mother's funeral. The then teenage Hillary had been pale and silent. She had refused to stand next to her father at the grave site and had flinched when he touched her shoulder when it was time to leave. She had left home the next day.
"Mr. Reilly, would you please come to my office," Hillary stated as she rose from the chair at the head of the table and headed for the door.
Fred was surprised. Hillary's polite request was really an order. Fears that he was going to be fired immediately engulfed him. Yet he could not help leering at her shapely legs so tantalizingly revealed by her miniskirt and so enticingly accentuated by the 3 inch heels she wore.
With tremendous anxiety, Fred resignedly followed, struggling to control the bulge in his trousers as his eyes irresistibly focused upon her sexily swaying backside. Hillary never looked back to see if Fred was following. She knew that he was there and what he was watching. Once inside her father's office, she sat in his chair behind his huge desk. Fred was relieved her gorgeous legs were once more hidden from his wanton view as he closed the door behind him as he entered.
"Please have a seat," Hillary stated with a sad smile. "I'm going to be quite blunt and what I have to say is not to leave this office.”
Fred took the offered seat with growing concern. While he was not a chauvinist, it ate at him that his future was in the hands of this young woman. "I understand," Fred replied. "I will keep everything confidential from the staff. But I share all my concerns with my wife. If this is something you don't want her to hear, please don't tell me.”
"I'm glad you're still here," Hillary replied with a touch of relief. "You can relax. I have no intention of firing you. Your open honesty is quite refreshing. You and Helen were the only true friends my mother really had. I also know that after her death, you ended your social relationship with my father. I appreciate that, and I'd like to have you tell Helen what I'm going to tell you. I always felt that Helen was almost like an older sister. I'd like her to be a friend to me like she was to my mother. I need that."
"Thank you," Fred relaxed and smiled weakly. "I was quite concerned. I'm sure Helen will be delighted to be your friend."
"I apologize," Hillary stated. "I guess I have all the employees worried after my little speech. I did that on purpose to let them know that I'm the boss now. I have no intentions of firing anyone, but please don't let them know that."
"You know the business better than anyone else except Kaye," Hillary stated. "But she is not an engineer. I need your expertise to help me keep the business running smoothly and at a profit."
"I'll be glad to assist in any way I can," Fred nodded seriously.
"I was sure you would," Hillary answered softly. "But first I feel compelled to tell you why my mother committed suicide. I've never told anyone what really happened. This isn't going to be easy so please bear with me."
"I'll be patient," Fred replied gently. "Helen and I always suspected her death wasn't an accident."
"It wasn't an accident," Hillary sobbed quietly. "Mother killed herself because of me... but it wasn't my fault... she knew how daddy kept chasing young girls... she never tried to stop him... she let it happen." Hillary broke down in tears.
Fred felt his heart go out to the woman. With genuine sincerity he crossed to her chair and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Hillary reacted to his touch like a scalded cat. Angrily she flung his hand off her shoulder and stood facing Fred in a karate defensive stance. The anger that flashed in her eyes made Fred shiver. Fred put his hands up in an effort to fend off an attack by the she-devil before him. An expression of shock and fear filled his face.
Hillary gasped then relaxed. "I'm sorry," she stated with a shaky voice. “Please, go back to your seat." Hillary wiped the tears from her eyes and sat in her chair.
Fred cautiously returned to his seat but never took his eyes off Hillary. He worried that the young woman was schizophrenic.
"What you just saw is part of what I have to tell you," Hillary explained in a tired voice. "I react like that whenever a man touches me. It goes back to my mother's death. As I said, my father had a thing for pretty teenage girls. I... I was not exempt from his... lust."
Fred gasped. Never had he expected to hear this. Harry had molested his own daughter! It was unconscionable. "Hillary... I'm so sorry," Fred apologized. "If I'd have known... I'd have killed him...."
"I know," Hillary replied. "That was one of the reasons I never told anyone. Mother knew... she tried to help me through the trauma, but he wouldn't stop him. Night after night... he came into my bedroom. Mother killed herself when I became pregnant."
"Oh my God," Fred gasped. "That monster."
"I left home the day after mother's funeral," Hillary continued. "Daddy paid for me to go to a private school that dealt with pregnant teens. I've waited and prepared for his death ever since I left. I had my baby... Leslie Lynn. I completed high school, and went on to college. I hired a nanny to raise Leslie while I studied and worked. Daddy paid for it all... dearly paid. I gave him no other option. You could call it blackmail, but I feel it was quite justified. I refused to talk to him or let him see his child/grandchild."
"I'm hoping the funeral will let me put all my hatred behind me," Hillary added softly.
"I don't know what to say," Fred replied honestly. "Of course I'll help you any way I can. But I think it would be better if you told Helen yourself. If you'd like, I'll call Helen and invite her to meet you for lunch at Guido's. You can get a private booth and tell her all about your father."
"I think I'd like that," Hillary replied. "Does Guido still run the place?"
"You bet," Fred chuckled. "He's a little greyer and has more of a paunch, but he still has the best Italian restaurant in the state."
Helen was delighted to learn that Fred's job was secure and that Hillary was taking control of the business. When Fred told her that Hillary wanted to meet her for lunch at Guido's to talk about her mother, Helen knew a long awaited revelation was going occur.
Helen was stunned to hear all that Hillary had to say about her parents and promised to be a good friend and confidant. After quite a long discussion, it was decided the women would go to the Balkut home. Upon arriving, Helen first met the nanny Hillary had employed since the birth of her child. Joyce Moore was a plain woman now 28 years old. Judging from her appearance and demeanor the woman while not overly intelligent, was obviously a person who could firmly control any children placed under her control.
After exchanging pleasantries, the efficient nanny left to bring Leslie to meet Helen. Helen was delighted to meet Leslie Lynn Balkut. Upon entering the room, the teenager responded to the introduction with a precise curtsey after which Joyce quietly left. The demure 14 year old pretty blonde lass was polite and well dressed. It was obvious from the loud rustling whenever Leslie moved that there were several full crinoline petticoats beneath her full skirted knee length pink satin dress since the skirt billowed saucily almost a foot from her slim legs. The Peter Pan collar was edged with a dainty ruffle trimmed in lace. The empire bodice demurely accentuated Leslie's pert girlish breasts without being outlandish. A two inch wide pink satin sash about her trim waist was tied into a quaint bow at the small of her back. The short sleeves ballooned about her slender upper arms to end in lace trimmed ruffled cuffs just above her elbows. Cute pink satin bows firmly secured the ends of the twin braids that hung down the front of her shoulders to her nipped in waist. Pert curled bangs whispered against her forehead accentuating her wide innocent baby blue eyes. A cute upturned button nose was centered between her naturally rosy cheeks. The only make up she wore was a delicate pink gloss on her sensuous full lips. Shiny black patent leather cross-strap Mary-Jane shoes adorned her feet and darling lace topped ruffled anklets adorned her slender ankles. All in all Leslie was the essence of dainty Victorian girlhood. Her flesh, where visible, was a delicate white porcelain china.
"Well, Leslie, I must compliment you," Helen enthused. "You are a very delightful young lady. I didn't think girls like you existed anymore. I'm delighted to discover there is at least one."
"Thank you, Mrs. Reilly," Leslie replied with a genuine smile accompanied by another curtsey. "I enjoy being a gracious young miss."
Just then Joyce returned pushing a fully equipped tea cart. Without a word being said, Leslie politely excused herself for a moment. Going to the tea cart she pulled a ruffled pinafore style apron from a shelf hidden by the lace coverlet. With little effort that evidenced great practice, Leslie quickly donned the old-fashioned pinafore and served tea to an impressed Helen and her mother. When everyone had been served she carefully smoothed her full skirts as she sat daintily upon a straight-backed chair with her knees primly together and her hands folded demurely upon her lap. A few moments of polite conversation followed during which Leslie politely answered all of Helen's questions. The young girl attended a strict parochial school because the boys were much too uncouth at the public schools. Leslie loved her soft frilly clothes. Her favorite pastimes were playing the piano, dancing, and reading. She was also an avid doll collector. Once she opened up Leslie proved to be a very talkative girl.
When Joyce coughed softly, Leslie blushed. "Please forgive for monopolizing your time," she stated primly as she rose from her seat. After refreshing the women's tea, she curtseyed sweetly once more and left the room to follow her nanny.
"What a perfect young lady," Helen enthused. "I didn't know any girls like her still existed. You must be very proud of her."
"I am proud of Leslie," Hillary replied with a smile. "I've instructed Joyce to make sure she is a prime example of sugar and spice."
"Well you've certainly succeeded," Helen replied. "You don't know how often I wished for a daughter to pamper and spoil."
"Leslie is pampered but not spoiled," Hillary replied. "I remember how you used to fuss over me whenever you'd visit. I loved the attention and knew I was like a little sister to you."
"My, you certainly were perceptive," Helen sighed. "I plead guilty as charged."
"I asked you here to have a very private conversation," Hillary stated quite seriously. "There's more to my story than I've told you and you must promise not to tell anyone, including Fred."
"Of course, my dear," Helen replied seriously. "I could tell you were holding something back."
"When I was at the home to have my baby," Hillary began. "I was 16, pregnant from my father, and my mother had just committed suicide. I was lonely, hurt, and angry. At first I lashed out at everyone. I was really miserable. Then I met Joyce. She was just 14 and like me pregnant. Her older brother did it, but when she told her parents, they blamed her and threw her out of the house telling her to never return. Now Joyce isn't the smartest person in the world. In many ways she's quite backward. But she is full of love. Somehow she found her way to the home, but only after two months of living on the streets. She lived solely for the baby she carried. She loved that unborn child since it was the only thing she had. I realized she was in far worse shape than me yet she had a goal in life... to raise her child. That knowledge snapped me out of my self-pity. I was still angry and hurt, but now I gained a purpose. That was to be a friend to Joyce. We became more than friends as our pregnancies developed. We became like sisters."
"Joyce went into labor the same day I did. We shared the delivery room. I gave birth to Leslie. Joyce developed major problems. They tried to do a C-section but it was too late. Her baby was stillborn. She was so ripped up inside they did a hysterectomy on her. Joyce gave up. The only thing she had lived for was gone and she could never have another child. I stayed by her side as she recovered. She just laid there and waited to die. Nothing I did or said mattered. We returned to the home but she was like a bump on the log. They wanted to commit her but I begged them to wait. I was worn out trying to get Joyce to recover and taking care of Leslie. I think those two o’clock feedings almost killed me. Two days after I begged them not to commit Joyce, I slept through the night. At first I was scared something had happened to Leslie. But when I threw back the covers, and sat up, I found Joyce sitting in the rocker rocking the baby. She had taken care of the two o’clock feeding."
"She knew her baby was dead and that Leslie was my baby. We cried in each other's arms. That's when I decided that I had to take care of Joyce. To do that I needed to become the breadwinner. That's when I contacted my father. I told him he either gave me enough money to rent an apartment for myself, the baby, and Joyce plus pay for my schooling and living expenses or I'd return home and tell everyone the truth. He came through. Joyce has been raising Leslie ever since."
"That's wonderful," Helen replied as she dabbed tears from her eyes. "There is nothing wrong with that. I don't see why you don't want Fred to know."
"This morning your husband joined the other men drooling over me," Hillary replied coldly. "I had hoped he wouldn't do that, but now I realize that he's just like all the others. Well, not quite. He didn't attempt to hit on me."
"Fred would never do anything like that," Helen stated. "He was always quite disgusted with your father's philandering. Fred appreciates beautiful women, but he's devoted to me."
"I know," Hillary answered. "For a man, Fred's probably as good as they get. That's where my other problem comes in. I hate men. I can't bear to have a man touch me. But I'm a very sensual person. I need love just like any other woman. Only I can never love a man."
Helen sat silently for a few moments as she thought about what Hillary had said. Suddenly she gasped and her eyes grew wide. "Oh my God," she gasped. "You're one of those women... a le...lesbian? You and Joyce are lovers, right?"
"Yes, I am a lesbian and Joyce is my lover," Hillary answered without flinching. "As you just saw, Joyce and I keep our relationship on a business level except in the privacy of our bedroom. I know how this town feels about lesbians. That's why I'd like to keep it a secret. Helen, I feel that you really are like an older sister. I'm not asking for your approval of my love affair but I would like your acceptance."
"I don't know what to say," Helen replied clearly stunned by the unexpected revelation. "I've always thought of you as a kid sister and I really appreciate your reciprocation of those feelings. Of course your secret is safe with me, but... I just don't know if I can handle it."
"That's all I'm asking for," Hillary answered. "But there is one other secret. This one is even more outlandish and I need your solemn vow never to reveal it to anyone."
"There's more," Helen asked clearly surprised. "I don't know if I can handle anything more, especially if it's more outlandish than... you know. But I promise to keep it a secret."
"Thank you," Hillary smiled weakly. "As I already said, due to my father's actions I can't stand to be touched by a male. I also cannot stand to touch a male. I realized this before I gave birth to Leslie. I dreaded the thought of having a baby boy."
"I can understand that," Helen responded sympathetically. "It's a good thing you had a baby girl."
Hillary blushed, sighed deeply, and looked at the floor.
"Oh my God," Helen exclaimed as the bizarre truth hit her. "Leslie isn't a girl? But her face... her figure... she's so feminine."
"Leslie is a girl mentally, just not physically... yet," Hillary replied softly with no obvious guilt. "But she thinks she's a girl. I knew I could never raise a son but I was unwilling to give up the child. I decided even before the birth to name her Leslie Lynn because the name was suitable for a boy or a girl. Once Joyce, Leslie, and I moved out of the home, it was easy to simply put the baby in dresses. Leslie has never worn pants. Over the years I did some discreet investigating. I found a highly skilled doctor who was eminently qualified to handle Leslie's special situation. What makes the doctor even better for handling delicate situations is that she's a woman and has no hang ups about the ludicrous idea of the superiority of males. Leslie was eight when she first saw Doctor Trate. Once Cassandra... that's Dr. Trate's first name... was assured that Leslie was a happy little girl and that I was dead serious about turning Leslie into a complete girl, she removed two tiny useless tumors from between her legs. Then she gathered all the loose flesh that was present and tucked it up inside her groin so that she appeared to be a normal girl. When Leslie was eleven, the doctor provided us with a prescription of female hormones. Leslie has been taking them ever since. As you saw, she's developed like a normal girl going through puberty except of course she's never had a period. Just this past summer we saw to it that Leslie had the surgery to become a complete female."
"So she knows she's really a boy," Helen asked incredulously.
"We told her last year before we arranged the surgery that she was a very special and unique girl," Hillary replied. "When her classmates complained about their periods, she had no idea what they were talking about. We had to tell her the truth. I told her everything, including the fact that her father and grandfather were the same man. She was upset at first but only because she wasn't a real girl. In fact, she was glad that she hadn't been raised as, in her own words, a 'yucky boy'. She's been very understanding and realized I had done the only thing I could do. She has fully accepted her fate as a girl. After all, she only knows life as a girl. Besides, the castration and the female hormones have destroyed her masculinity. Even if she wanted to try to become a man, it's impossible. What was left of her male parts were shriveled up and totally useless before the final surgery."
"I don't know what to say," Helen replied candidly as she tried to take everything in. "I've heard of things like this happening on some of those bizarre talk shows. But this is the first time I've KNOWN it to be true."
"I understand how difficult this is for you," Hillary answered. "I just hope we can renew our friendship. That's why I had to tell you."
"I appreciate your honesty," Helen said finally. "I'm going to need a few days to think this all over."
"I know," Hillary replied. "You always were a ponderer. Will you be coming to the funeral?"
"Of course," Helen responded. "I wouldn't miss seeing that bastard buried. After all, your problems are really his fault."
"I was hoping you'd see things that way," Hillary replied.
With that the women hugged and parted.
Fred was the first one home. Heath arrived home shortly thereafter. Heath assured his father he'd stayed out of trouble that day. Heath breathed a little easier as his father laid into him about all the junk he'd had in his room. That meant things were going better at work. Heath promised to try to do better. It was after six when Helen made it home.
The weekend was very tense in the Reilly home. Helen's secret knowledge about Hillary and Heath's problems, Fred's knowledge of Harry Balkut's indiscretions and Heath's problems, and Heath with his problems and the lack of opportunities to relieve his tensions all combined to make a short fused terse relationship.
Helen found herself thinking about Leslie. The child was a very pretty girl. She represented everything she'd always wanted in a daughter. The fact that she was the same age as Heath only made her son's problems seem worse. Leslie was such a polite well-behaved girl while Heath was an insufferable slovenly boy. Every time she saw Heath or thought of his problems she compared his irreverent macho attitude to that of demure Leslie. The longer the weekend went, the more she understood why Hillary had raised the child as a girl. Helen began to think that if she had to do it all over again, knowing the problems that awaited raising a son, she'd raise Heath as a girl! Once this thought occurred, the next thought came as a matter of logical progression. She began to wonder if it was too late to turn Heath into a sweet daughter. After all, he was just entering male puberty. Most of the obvious physical manifestations had not yet appeared. If she were to slip him some female hormones, perhaps she could derail his masculinity and supplant it with demure girlishness. Maybe she could even take him to the doctor Hillary had found. But that idea was simply too wild to even consider not to mention the fact that Fred would never go along with transforming his son into a girl.
Of course, there was an alternative. The fact that she had a complete hysterectomy five years before only made her daydreaming about turning Heath into a girl even more viable since she had a prescription of female hormones for herself. All she had to do was get a second prescription from her doctor. That would be easy, she'd just tell him she was switching pharmacies. Then she could at least partially do to Heath what had been done to Leslie. The thought of seeing perky little breasts budding from his chest made her feel warm inside. The idea was very tempting, especially when Heath was being his normal callous boyish self.
Monday finally arrived. Heath was allowed to stay home from school to attend the funeral. That was a bit of consolation since Heath hated getting dressed in a suit. Wearing a tie was really the pits. But he knew he had no choice. The viewing was held at one o’clock with the funeral at three. Despite his interests in the macabre, Heath really didn't want to go see a dead man. Still, he obediently followed his parents as they got in line to file past the casket. He had no idea what he would say to Hillary Balkut and her daughter Leslie.
As they slowly made their way through the line, Heath let his mind wonder. All weekend all his mother talked about was Leslie Lynn Balkut. She couldn't get done talking about how pretty she was and how nicely she dressed. Every time he did something his mother didn't like, which was practically everything, she sighed and dreamily told him how Leslie was so polite and well behaved. Heath didn't think too much of his mother's opinion about what constituted a pretty girl. He certainly couldn't imagine any girl being as much of a goody two shoes as his mother claimed for Leslie.
As they neared the casket Heath overheard other people saying how nice Harry Balkut looked, like he was sleeping and would wake up at any moment. Heath almost chuckled as he thought about how fast the place would clear if Harry Balkut suddenly sat up. When it was their turn, Heath looked closely at the body while trying to see what the others were seeing. In Heath's opinion Harry Balkut didn't look like he was sleeping, he looked dead. Looking at the dead man gave Heath the willies.
As they turned to pay their respects to the family, Heath almost tripped over his feet. The woman, dressed in a slinky low-cut black dress that showed her body and legs to great advantage, was gorgeous. She had to be Hillary Balkut. Heath felt a most unsolemn stirring inside his dress slacks as his pulse quickened and his breathing became labored. Heath tried to politely shake her hand but found he couldn't take his eyes off the soft white flesh of her cleavage. It was only when Hillary softly cleared her throat and squeezed his hand that he flushed and turned to see the wonder girl.
The blonde girl was a total knock out! He hastily decided his mother's lavish praise hadn't done her justice. Heath was so stricken with Leslie's beauty that this time he did trip over his feet. With a resounding THUD he fell flat on his face at the pretty girl's feet clad in unbelievably glossy black patent leather T-strap shoes with one inch heels. Slowly his gaze rose from her shoes to follow her slender ankles. The young girl's silken legs were clad in sheer black hose that showed off her shapely legs. Looking up sheepishly he had a perfect view beneath her full pleated black velvet skirt. Beneath her dainty skirt he could see the lace edged ruffles of her white crinoline petticoat. The ruffled petticoat hid the juncture of her thighs from his view so he was unable to see her panties but he correctly imagined they were as delicately lace trimmed as her petticoat. From his prone position he was unable to see her face, but at the moment he didn't care. Mesmerized by the sight, he found himself unable to move.
Fred quickly realized what was happening and hastily leaned over to hoist his infatuated son to his feet. Fred remained silent because he understood how overwhelmed his son was by the unblemished beauty of the teenage girl. He too had wondered if Helen's relentless descriptions had been fact or fable. Now he knew they were fact. The black velvet sleeveless dress hugged the teenage girl's curvaceous body like a glove. The low-cut bodice was filled out nicely. Instead of revealing her cleavage the cut out was filled with delicate black lace through which her fine white flesh was visible while hiding all details. Her slender arms were encased in stretch black lace that matched that which hid her cleavage. Matching black lace stretch gloves encased her primly folded hands in her lap. Her long silken blonde hair fell luxuriously about her shoulders and except for her pert bangs was held back from her face by a black velvet band tied into a large bow atop her head. Her face looked like that of an exquisite porcelain doll. Fred's heart rate increased dramatically as he drank in the young girl's undeniable girlishness. If he had a daughter, he would have wanted her to be like Leslie.
Fred held Heath on his unsteady feet before Leslie. Momentarily the duo were awestruck by the teenage girl's unblemished beauty. Heath became hopelessly lost the moment his eyes met Leslie's eyes. Fred finally snapped himself out of his trance and had to practically drag poor Heath away.
Leslie blushed and lowered her eyes as the boy fell. His look of lust made her feel very vulnerable. Hillary placed a comforting arm on her daughter's shoulder. They had another long discussion about the birds and the bees over the weekend. Hillary's experiences in the office had reminded her about her own sexual appeal and how men reacted to pretty girls. Then there was Helen's tale about Heath's burgeoning sexuality. This caused Hillary to face the fact that the female hormones had been causing Leslie to blossom into an attractive teenage girl who would find men and boys beginning to pay attention to her. Now she was glad she had done so. Helen had been correct, Heath Reilly certainly qualified as a testosterone-overloaded boy. Once more she was glad she had turned her baby into a girl.
Heath was a virtual basket case during the rest of the viewing and funeral. The be-smitten boy could only look longingly at his new goddess, Leslie Lynn Balkut. Fred took the boy by the shoulder and guided him through the proceedings with a minimal amount of disturbance. It didn't take everyone long to realize that the boy was totally infatuated with the winsome girl. All the men could understand why and chuckled at Heath's adolescent angst. The women found the situation amusing. It proved to them that males thought first with their genitals.
At first Leslie was unnerved by Heath's enraptured admiration. Up until now she had led a sheltered life. Her mother's blunt discussion about the birds and bees had startled her but it also answered a myriad of questions. This was the first time a boy had really paid such wanton attention to her girlishness. Before today her main relationships with boys had been limited to her efforts to foil their attempts to flip her skirt. The knowledge that she was desirable made her taut breasts tingle with excitement. Once she overcame the initial surprise of Heath's adoration she began to enjoy it. At every opportunity she glanced to see if he was still watching her. When their eyes met she would smile coquettishly, blush, and demurely look away. Hillary would have laughed if she hadn't been so concerned about her daughter. It was an obvious case of two way puppy love.
Leslie had been enrolled in St. Patrick Parochial School so Heath was unable to see her in school. While he wasn't too happy about not being able to see her every day there was some consolation in the fact that the other guys in his school could not hit upon Leslie. Besides, from what he knew about St. Patrick Parochial School, the boys there were not allowed to mingle with the girls. Heath knew that he was the only boy with whom Leslie had individual contact. During the ensuing weeks, Heath made sure to be on his best behavior in hopes of being allowed to visit Leslie.
Helen was embarrassed by and furious about Heath's unbridled lust for Leslie. The only thing Helen appreciated was Heath's willingness to finally try to be a good boy.
While Helen did not feel comfortable around males, she did recall the fun she had flirting with boys before her father molested her. Hillary was determined to allow Leslie to enjoy flirting and even dating boys. However, she intended to see that Leslie was never hurt as she had been. There would be strict rules and supervision until Hillary felt Leslie was able to handle herself. Thus, Hillary encouraged the fledgling romance between Heath and Leslie for two reasons. It reinforced Leslie's desire to become a complete female and it reinforced her friendship with Fred and Helen.
Hillary invited Helen and Heath to visit at least twice a week. Each time the puppy love between the teens was obvious. When Heath realized that Leslie was flirting with him his desire for her tripled. Of course, the young couple was never left alone to explore their young love. Heath was too tongue tied to even talk to Leslie about his infatuation and Leslie was much too shy to even consider discussing her feelings for Heath. All the youngsters could do was smile and nod their head in response to their polite conversation. They usually played a game like Scrabble or watched movies that Hillary had preselected. During these happy visits Heath saw for himself that Leslie was demurely girlish and polite. She was everything his mother had said... and more.
While Hillary continued to encourage the mutual infatuation of the teenagers, she also noted Helen's growing ire with her son. It didn't take much encouragement for Helen to spill her soul to Hillary about all the problems she had endured with Heath.
"You certainly did the right thing by raising Leslie as a girl," Helen commented several times during each visit. "I think I'd do the same to Heath if I had it to do over again."
At first Hillary smiled sympathetically and filed that information away. When the bitter comments continued, Hillary decided to speak. "Dr. Trate does treat older boys and men. If you're interested, I'm sure I could make arrangements for you to speak to her about the matter."
"Oh I'm not really serious," Helen smiled guiltily. "I was just venting some steam."
After the first week, Helen became so agitated with Heath's past conduct and his testosterone driven lust for Leslie that she decided to cool his ardor. His obnoxious behavior was more than she could stand while at the same time her exposure to demure Leslie made her desire for a daughter of her own to balloon. She obtained a second prescription for female hormones from her doctor and began to slip Heath a secret dose each day.
The changes didn't take long. Within one week, Heath's aggressive nature subsided. Within two weeks he had become quite meek. The school was delighted with Heath's improved behavior and study habits. Heath managed to stay out of trouble and in the process quickly shed his loose-knit circle of troublesome friends. Still, every nice day Heath hurried from the school to his oak nook. With his jeans dropped and binoculars in hand, he relieved his lust as he watched the cheerleaders. So infatuated was he with Leslie that he now imagined the giggling bouncing cheerleaders to be Leslie.
Leslie was also changing. The awakening of her sexuality created many new thoughts and desires. Heath's obvious infatuation spurred her on to explore her femininity. Now in a new school she was able to shed her former quiet mousey persona and blossom into a spritely, flirtatious, giggly teenage girl. No longer did she blush when discussions with her female classmates turned to boys. She was now able to relate to most of what they said. She began to look forward to the time when she could kiss a boy and make out a bit.
Of course, the closeness to Heath made her sometimes wonder what she'd have been like if she had been raised as the boy she had been born. Up until meeting Heath, every boy she'd known had been a terror to a sweet demure girl. Heath was far from being an angel and tended to be risque, but he was kind and considerate to her. Even her mother had said that boys weren't all bad. Several times she tried to imagine living as a boy. She watched the boys in her class at St. Patrick Parochial School. They all seemed so intent on proving their masculinity and were never satisfied with what they achieved. It was like they always had to be on top. She noticed they never allowed themselves to cry or to giggle, things she treasured as a girl. In the end, she decided that she was glad to be a girl and that if she had been a boy she'd have asked her mother to allow her to become a girl. She could not understand why anyone would want to be a rough, crude boy when they could be a sweet, polite girl. While she was happy to be a girl, she was still naturally curious about what it was like to be a boy.
One rainy, dreary Saturday in mid October she and Heath were sitting in the family room of the Balkut home. The heavy rain was pounding upon the French doors but inside it was nice and cozy. Hillary and Helen sat in the sitting room next door, out of earshot but well within sight. Leslie had once more crushed Heath at Scrabble even though he was steadily improving his game.
"Heath, what's it like being a boy," Leslie asked seizing the opportunity for a quiet serious discussion.
"Huh," Heath who had been trying to catch glimpses of Leslie's petticoats responded obviously totally caught off guard. "What's it like to be a boy? That's really hard to answer. That's like me asking you what it's like to be a girl. Why do you want to know? I hope you're not thinking about becoming a tomboy."
"Of course I don't want to be a tomboy," Leslie blushed and responded defensively. "I love being a girl. I was just curious, that's all."
The teens fell silent for a few moments but the question had kindled never before aroused curiosity in Heath.
"Maybe if you tell me what it's like being a girl I'll have some idea how to tell you what it's like being a boy," Heath finally stated in a desperate hope that Leslie might reveal some of her dainty underthings.
"All right, that sounds fair enough," Leslie stated as she bit her lip in thought. She stood and walked in a circle swishing her petticoated skirts while Heath practically drooled. "You're right, it is difficult to put into words what it's like being a girl. I guess to me being a girl means being soft and delicate, like a flower. I simply love dressing up in soft frilly clothes and looking pretty. The way people smile at me when I'm dressed up really prissyish makes me feel all warm and cozy inside. The clothing itself is really nice too. We girls get to wear nice silky clothes with lots of ribbon and lace. We can also cry whenever we feel like it. We can giggle too. We don't have to hide our feelings like boys do. We can relax and be ourselves. We don't have to put on some fake tough guy exterior to show how much of a man we are. Girls can do anything a boy can do, maybe not as well, but we can at least try. Boys can't do that. Girls can play sports or play with dolls. Boys can only play sports. Girls can climb trees or wear frilly dresses. Boys can only climb trees. It's really not fair that girls can do girly things and boyish things while boys can only do boyish things."
While Leslie swished about a much captivated Heath, the enamored lad drank in her overt femininity. Leslie was clad in a pink flowered dress with three-quarter length sleeves. The sleeves ended in ruffled cuffs that matched the ruffles on the high Victorian neck. The princess seamed bodice clung to her slender body to enticingly conceal the details but reveals the curvaceous outline of her slender teenage figure. The knee length full skirt seemed to spring from her narrow waist to a petticoat enhanced fullness that made her seem so delicate and fragile. The incessant rustling of the dainty petticoats in response to her slightest movement was like a siren's song to Heath. Delicate rose patterned tights encased her shapely legs. Shiny white patent leather Mary Jane shoes adorned her small feet. Her long silken blonde hair, except for her dainty curled bangs, was pulled back into a full high ponytail secured in place by pink satin ribbons tied into large bows. The ponytail bounced and swayed enticingly in response to even the slightest movement of her head.
"Well... ah... I don't think it's unfair," Heath retorted defensively when he realized Leslie had stopped talking and was looking directly at him. He was embarrassed to have been caught ogling her femininity. Discreetly he attempted to make the tightness in his crotch more tolerable. "Any boy who would want to play dolls or wear a frilly dress has to be a sissy."
"But that's what I'm talking about," Leslie argued. "What if a boy wanted to play with dolls or wear a frilly dress. He's teased and tormented as a sissy. It's not fair! Now, please Heath, be honest with me. I promise not to tease you or to tell anyone how you answer. But haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to dress up in a frilly outfit? Aren't you curious about how it feels?"
"Me, wear a dumb dress," Heath huffed indignantly. "No, never, I wouldn't do it!"
"Heath," Leslie demanded in a harsh tone. "I'm not asking you to actually do it, I'd just like to know if you are curious about how it feels. It's quite obvious you like to watch me when I'm wearing frilly outfits."
"Well, I guess I am a little curious," he whispered while blushing deeply now that she admitted knowing he was leering at her. "But I'd never ever want to find out!"
"But that's stupid," Leslie declared. "It's just a dumb macho thing you boys have to put up with. Girls are free to do boy things so boys should be free to do girl things."
"Well, maybe," Heath conceded. "But I still won't ever find out what it feels like to wear a dumb dress!"
"So tell me then," Leslie asked. "How does it feel to be limited in the things you can or can't do?"
"I never thought about it that way before," Heath concluded in a perplexed voice. "I guess you do have a point. Only I don't know of any guy who would ever even try doing girly stuff."
"Well, that's your loss then," Leslie added. "If I wanted, I could dress like you and play the same things you do. But you can't dress like me and play the same things I do. I'm just glad I'm a girl. Being a boy seems really dumb when you're so restricted. I really don't understand why boys insist on being so macho all the time. They miss out on so much that's so very nice."
"Well, that's the price of being a guy," Heath huffed.
Just then their mothers entered the room and the conversation ended. Leslie was more firmly convinced being a girl was the smartest and best thing in the world. Heath was left with some gnawing questions. While he had never before thought about the inequity between boys and girls, he had always assumed boys had the better end of the deal. Now Leslie had pointed out that it was the girls who truly had it better. This made him question his beliefs about male superiority. It also brought forth a question that wanted an answer he certainly didn't want answered. Now that she had raised the issue, he did wonder what it felt like to wear frilly girlish outfits. That really bothered his injured masculinity. He took a bit of consolation secure in the knowledge that he was determined to never answer that question!
During the next week the weather grew steadily more chilly. Heath watched the interplay of the girls and boys at his school and began to realize that Leslie was right Girls did have it better. They could be a rough and tumble tomboy one day and a femme fatale the next. They did giggle and cry freely while guys had to be constantly stoic. While he never questioned his sexuality or the fact that he was all boy, he had a growing resentment to the unfair rigid sexist roles they had to live.
Heath also realized that the cheerleaders would soon stay indoors to practice. This would deprive him of his sole source of release. This really bothered him because he noticed that during the last several weeks he had begun to have trouble becoming hard and staying erect. Then just after that rainy Saturday when Leslie questioned him what it was like to be a boy his ability to function as a boy nearly disappeared and another problem began. An irritating tenderness appeared on his chest and was steadily growing worse. He also noticed his general strength and stamina seemed to be decreasing. Little did he know or suspect that these problems were due to the fact that he'd been taking daily doses of female hormones for the last seven weeks.
The last day of October... Halloween... was an unseasonably warm afternoon. Heath had been in a deep funk for the last two weeks due to the diminishing and finally loss of his sexual functions. With little hope of success, but still driven to at least try, Heath trudged forlornly to his eyrie. As he had expected, the cheerleaders were down to the bare minimum of clothing. They wore tight sports bras and biker shorts that revealed practically everything. As he eagerly watched the sexy girls, he was once more unable to consummate his lust. Angry and frustrated, Heath leaned back in his perch and looked up at the swirling clouds. What was happening to him? Why had he lost the ability to play with himself? Was it because of his weird discussion with Leslie? No, the problems had started before that. These were very difficult questions for a boy his age. With no answers, he sighed and closed his eyes.
Heath must have dozed off because he was suddenly awakened by a gurgling cackle. Peering down from his nook he spied a tiny man, about two feet tall dressed in green with his pants dropped about his ankles. The little man was staring at the cheerleaders and had his hand busy between his legs.
Although startled, Heath somehow remained silent. The tiny man had to be a Leprechaun! With his Irish ancestry Heath knew that if he could catch the Leprechaun, he'd get a pot of gold or three wishes! With unusual stealth, coupled with the fact the little man was quite preoccupied, Heath climbed down from his perch and leapt upon the little man.
Now if you've ever been tackled by surprise, you know it's difficult to escape. That is doubly so when your opponent is nearly three times your size, your pants are around your ankles, and you have a very important piece of your anatomy in your hand. Needless to say Heath quickly subdued the surprised Leprechaun and sat upon him.
The little man cried in a thick Irish brogue as he stopped struggling.
"If you value you life, boy, let me go now;
or sorry you will be, I make this dire vow.
If you doubt my powers, you'll soon rue this day;
or my name isn't Patrick Seamus O'Shea"
Heath gazed at the little man. The pointed elf ears made him look like a miniature Vulcan from Star Trek. Heath guessed him to be about thirty years old. "I know you're a Leprechaun, Patrick Seamus O'Shea. I won't let you go until you promise to grant me three wishes," Heath finally declared
The little man saw the determination and gleam in Heath's eyes and knew he was truly caught. Besides, his magic powers were negated by daylight. He was powerless until the sun went down. With a sigh he stopped resisting.
"All right, I promise to grant you three wishes;
but please let me restore my lowered britches.
But then perhaps, young man, are you one of those;
who desire to love men and add to my woes?"
The little man's implication that he might be a faggot infuriated Heath, but then he quickly realized the little man was just trying to get him angry in order to escape. According to legends once a human accepted a promise from a Leprechaun, the little man could never break his word although he would try to twist what whatever was wished, especially if he were provoked. "You won't trick me so easily, Patrick Seamus O'Shea," Heath laughed. "I intend to hld you to your promise." Heath promptly released the little man.
After being released the little man rolled over and quicky tugged his green britches back into place. Then the ruddy faced Leprechaun turned to face Heath and chuckled mirthlessly as he shook his head.
"After all these years you would think that I'd learn;
alas my doom, for pretty lassies I yearn.
Dear Ireland I left because of this weakness;
in America I'd hoped to find success.
Alas the drastic change did me little good;
though the girls are less shy of their maidenhood.
Twas in a stream nearby I spied three nude girls;
a lad caught me while bewitched by pubic curls.
He was a skinny, lonely lad much like you;
and caught me by surprise in the morning dew.
Eric Murphy's three wishes gave him new life;
'til now I've been cautious to avoid such strife.
This sad day my luck ran out, much to my woe;
young Eric caught me 'bout forty years ago."
"Forty years ago," Heath gasped as he looked at the little man. "That means you have to be at least 60 years old. You sure don't look 60 years old! Do you always speak in rhymes?"
The Leprechaun chuckled and sized Heath up.
"Why lad I am four hundred fifty years old;
and still far from my grave, oh so dark and cold.
We Leprechauns always in this manner talk;
it's you humans whose harsh phrases make one balk.
Now hurry dear boy, with your wishes, make haste;
I give you five minutes or the wishes waste.
Your three wishes can only pertain to you;
and the wishes don't become instantly true.
By nature, is powered, Leprechaun magic;
time is needed to avoid outcome tragic.
Leprechaun magic shifts things out of balance
so adjustments, the world, must make allowance.
The bigger the wish, the longer changes take;
to avoid undo questions someone might make.
When fulfilled by nature are your wishes three;
a gold Leprechaun coin will be left for thee.
Under your pillow the fine coin you will find;
to always of your wishes you to remind.
This you, Heath Reilly, must clearly understand;
so please do not make any wishes too grand."
"Yes, I understand," Heath replied as his mind worked to think of three good wishes. "Can't I have a little more time?"
The little man asked with a jovial chuckle.
"Are you a foolish boy? Is that your first wish?
Or are you overwhelmed by this magic dish?"
"NO, that's not my first wish" Heath exclaimed. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking."
The little man chuckled and waited impatiently, capering about in a nervous tizzy. Both knew the Leprechaun was attempting to befuddle Heath.
"The first thing I want is to get my parents off my back," Heath declared after a few moments. "I don't want them hurt or killed or anything like that. I just want them not to hassle me so much about behaving."
“Your wish is acceptable, it will be done;
but do not ask how, you foolish human son.
Your wish is now sent to the plane magical;
which surrounds all things like weather mystical."
"Okay," Heath replied a little upset because the Leprechaun anticipated his question about how the magic would make his wish come true. "The second thing I want is to live a very long life while being wealthy, happy, healthy and good looking."
The Leprechaun giggled and replied.
"You must understand this, oh boy so haughty;
to be happy all the time would be naughty.
The times that are good will far outweigh those bad;
the sad times will be smothered by those times glad.
So you will be happy at most times I'm sure;
these are the limits, or nature can't endure.
The other parts of your second wish are fine;
healthy, happy, and good looking will be thine.
Your wish is acceptable, it will be done;
but do not ask how, you foolish human son.
Your wish is now sent to the plane magical;
which surrounds all things like weather mystical."
"All right," Heath began as a far away smile appeared upon his face. "The last thing I want is to get into Leslie Lynn Balkut's panties every day."
The Leprechaun leaped into the air and clapped his hands, exclaiming as he sprinted into the underbrush.
"Your wish is acceptable, it will be done;
but do not ask how, you foolish human son.
Your wish is now sent to the plane magical;
which surrounds all things like weather mystical."
Three wishes I granted, I'm free from your hold;
tonight your wishes to my wants I will mold!"
Heath chuckled and watched the funny little man go. The idea that the Leprechaun could warp his wishes was just another ploy by the little man to rattle him. For the first time in weeks he felt hopeful. With a smile on his face he climbed back into his perch to watch the still practicing cheerleaders. To his delight he was finally able to relieve himself! With that accomplished he once more leaned back and dozed off.
Heath's slumber was troubled. In a surreal dream he saw the Leprechaun dancing about a fire in a cozy cave. There were tree roots dangling from the roof. The flickering flames made them seem alive. The shadow of the Leprechaun on the walls of the cave looked hideous and evil as he pranced about the roaring blaze laughing and singing.
"T'is sin to waste magic on a mere mortal;
and drain my life's essence through nature's portal.
Oh Mother Gia heed my Leprechaun call;
I must bring about this haughty boy's downfall!
To the wording of his wishes we'll stay true;
yet I must make them something that he will rue!
By his grief my lost essence will be restored;
like a vampire I'll feed on his just reward.
His wishes I must twist to not what he meant;
into a sweet teen girl we will change his scent.
With his three wishes we need a conjunction,
insure as a male he must never function!
About this fact he will surely have no joy;
when his scent is no longer that of a boy.
Let us give the lad an experience strange;
see how manly he is after a sex change!
The first wish to get his parents off his back;
without harm to them so the whip they won't crack.
Out of love do his parents discipline him;
but their chances of succeeding are quite slim.
To have the lad arrested and sent to jail;
I'd like that but with other wishes won't sail.
What can we do to make this wish be so right;
a twisted answer will come with fresh insight.
I know! Mother and father about him sob;
so send the parents away to a new job!
Then Heath with Miss Hillary Balkut will live;
a new life in girlhood to him she will give!
The wish for a long, rich, happy, healthy life;
and good looking... all possible... as a wife!
As a cute girl he'll be sad for quite a while;
but some day Heather, a pretty lass will smile.
Upon his anguish and frustration I'll feast;
to restore my essence like a wily beast!
His boyish lust, that ability soon nil;
his last wish will be a delight to fulfill!
To get into Leslie Lynn's panties each day;
will be done in a most unusual way.
He hoped to enjoy Miss Balkut's girlish charms;
without setting off adult worry alarms.
All this can be done while putting him in place;
he will wear her panties of satin and lace!
All three of his wishes will have been granted;
in a manner that is Leprechaun slanted.
From a boy to a cute girl let Heath transform;
in this way the unruly lad will reform!"
The Leprechaun laughed so hard he clutched his stomach and fell to the floor before the roaring fire. He was laughing so hard tears were trickling from his eyes. When he regained control, he turned his head and seemed to be looking directly at Heath and spoke.
"Until my life essence is again complete;
in this den I'll be trapped with little to eat.
Through Mother Gia my cruel plot must shine;
I must be patient until vengeance is mine.
Boys seek to catch Leprechauns for wishes three;
will young boys learn not to mess with folks wee?
Whenever they catch us we twist their desire;
those aggressive boys never children will sire!
Thanks to me Heath Reilly will soon be no more;
another pesky boy, I've silenced his roar.
As a lover he wanted many a girl;
Now it's him whom before boys his skirts will swirl!
Heather Reilly's beauty will make boys' knees weak;
many boys his girlish affection will seek.
I know you can hear me in your oak bower;
know, lad, your wishes have been granted this hour."
"No... no... I don't want to become a dumb girl," Heath muttered in terror. "You can have the three wishes back. I don't want them!" Heath awoke with a start. It was dark and he was sweating profusely. The cool night air made him shiver. The street lamps around the school cast an eerie light that was reduced to a weak shimmering by the trees. The hooting of an owl startled him.
Had he dreamed the entire encounter with the Leprechaun? It had to be a dream. Leprechauns were simply a fable. They didn't exist. The dream... no, it was more like a nightmare... made him quite uneasy. Perhaps it was merely a result of his frustration with his inability to function as a guy. That had to be it. It was all a silly nightmare. There was just no way he could have caught a Leprechaun and gotten three wishes. With a weary chuckle he laughed. His imagination was certainly working overtime. What made his subconscious come up with that bizarre interpretation of such innocent wishes? Maybe he'd been watching too many Tales of the Crypt on TV. They always had bizarre plot twists. That had to be it.
The idea of his father getting a new job and transferring there while leaving him with the Balkut's was not too bad. He certainly would not mind living in the same house as Leslie. Imagine, being turned into a girl by Hillary Balkut and getting into Leslie's panties by wearing them! That was really funny now that he could look at it from a more rational point of view. His uneasy chuckle died as he recalled the all too embarrassing frustration of not being able to even become erect when he first climbed the tree this afternoon to watch the cheerleaders. Reaching down he tried to bring himself to erection while mentally picturing the cheerleaders but nothing happened. The inability to function proved that he had to have dreamed about doing it after the encounter with the Leprechaun. At least it confirmed that it had all been a weird dream.
This led to the sad realization that something was seriously wrong with him. Perhaps his subconscious was using the Leprechaun nightmare to warn him to get help. Maybe there was something about his inability to function as a boy that led to an unknown subconscious terror that if he wasn't a boy he had to be changing into a girl. Now that was a scary thought!
Heath shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He had no idea how late it was but he knew his parents had to be quite worried. They would really lay into him when he arrived home. With a sense of foreboding he clambered down from his perch and slowly made his way out of the forest. The only way he could think of to get out of the mess was to confess his clandestine trips to the old oak tree and their purpose along with his physical inability to function as a guy. Besides, maybe they could come up with a way to restore his manhood. Right now he needed their help and had nothing more to lose. Or did he? What if the Leprechaun had been real? With tears forming in his eyes and shivering from the cool night air against his sweated clothes, he picked his way through the trees and underbrush as fast as he safely could.
"Heath...," Helen cried as she flung her arms about him. "My God, you're freezing! Where on earth have you been! We've been worried sick!"
"Just where the hell have you been," Fred demanded. "You'd better have a damn good excuse."
"I... I'm sor... sorry," Heath stuttered through his chattering teeth. "I went into the woods behind the school and laid down in the sun. I fell asleep and just woke up. I came right home. I'm sorry."
"Well since he's home I'll be leaving," the police officer stated as he closed his notebook. With that he left.
"Do you really expect us to believe that stupid story," Fred demanded.
"Fred, he's frozen," Helen declared firmly ending further interrogation. "Go fill the tub with hot water while I get him undressed."
Not waiting for a response, she led Heath to his room. Fred's fury left him as concern for Heath once more surfaced. He headed for the bathroom.
As Helen undressed her shivering son, she noted the increased size of his nipples and the unmistakable beginning of a gentle swelling beneath them. Glancing at his testicles she also noted how small they seemed while his penis was only about the size of a toddler. The female hormones were taking a toll! While this excited her it also made her worry that perhaps his tale of falling asleep was true and if so did it relate to his clandestine ingestion of the illicit hormones.
In a few moments Heath was settled into the steaming water as his parents hovered beside the tub. With a sigh of resignation he sadly looked up at them. They could tell there was more to his story of falling asleep. They also knew he was going to tell them so it must be quite serious.
Heath proceeded to confess about his discovery of the old oak tree behind the school and his daily excursions to watch the cheerleaders. Almost everything came out, including his self abuse while watching the girls. The only part he held back was about the Leprechaun. His parents just listened in silence and waited as he made his confession.
"But the worst thing is that I think there is something seriously wrong with me," Heath wearily added as tears trickled down his cheeks. "During the last couple of weeks, I started having problems getting it up. Lately, I can't get it up at all. I think I'm even shrinking down there. Then last week my chest started hurting. This afternoon when I couldn't even get a reaction out of it I was so frustrated I just laid back and closed my eyes. I really did fall asleep, honest. Mom, dad, there's got to be something physically wrong with me!"
Heath was so obviously emotionally distraught that his parents knew he was telling the truth. The subtle swelling under his nipples and the enlarged areolas gave even more credence to his tale. Fred understood how important a boy's sexuality was to his well being and was very concerned. Helen knew that she was responsible for the obvious devastation Heath was suffering.
"We'll call a doctor and get you an appointment," Fred stated as he took charge of the situation. "We'll find out what's causing these problems. But that doesn't mean you're off the hook for peeping at the cheerleaders. Whatever is causing these problems is obviously punishing you already for your transgressions so we won't punish you further. However, since you are obviously depressed and not feeling well, until your problems are resolved you will not leave this house unless accompanied by your mother or me. Your mother will take you to school and pick you up. If you want to go to the mall or movies, one of us will be nearby. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Heath replied in an uncharacteristic subdued voice. It was plainly evident he was so worried and overwhelmed by the situation that he had no will to protest or resist the restrictions. Just a few weeks ago he'd have been screaming about how unfair such restrictions were to a 14-year-old boy. Now he meekly acquiesced. This further reinforced his father's concern.
A half hour later after a bowl of warm chicken noodle soup, Heath was sound asleep. Once assured he was resting, Fred and Helen sat to discuss Heath.
"I never heard of anything like this happening," Fred gravely stated. "I haven’t the faintest idea what could be causing his problems.”
"Maybe he has some sort of infection," Helen suggested softly. "He said it began a few weeks ago and grew steadily worse. That would have been about the time he was in that tree. Maybe he picked up some sort of bug in that tree. Maybe a tick bit him. Or maybe he picked up some sort of fungus. God only knows what sort of stuff could have infected him while he was perched in that tree doing that horrid stuff to himself. I just can't believe Heath would stoop so low as to sexually abuse those unsuspecting cheerleaders."
She was not about to reveal her clandestine administration of powerful female hormones to Heath. Her initial guilt about what she had done to the boy was fighting with her outrage over his spying on the cheerleaders and masturbating. Having seen him doing it in his room two months before had been shocking enough. To learn that he had not stopped but had become progressively worse in his perversion quickly overrode her natural motherly concern. The boy was getting exactly what he deserved! Who knows how far his sexual lust would have progressed if she had not derailed his testosterone express. Why he might have raped some unfortunate girl! No, the female hormones had been the right thing to do.
"You're probably right," Fred said. "That redness and tenderness on his chest might be some sort of poison ivy. Heck, if that got into his privates that might account for everything. As far as his sexually abusing the cheerleaders, he never touched them and they know nothing about what he was doing. Every boy fantasizes about cheerleaders, it's simply a part of growing up. Just find a good doctor and get him straightened out. I'm so busy at work right now I don't have time to spend on this foolishness."
"I'll take care of Heath," Helen declared while controlling her fury about Fred's acceptance of Heath's perversion. She knew full well that Fred had no idea about the double meaning of her words. "Hillary seems to be doing a good job running the business," she added in order to get him onto something else.
"For a woman she really knows her stuff," Fred stated unaware that his condescending words further raised Helen's hackles. "She's cutting a deal right now that would land us an exclusive contract to oversee the construction of a hydroelectric dam in Africa. I've been coordinating the departments to develop the quote. Hillary really likes my work, just like her father did. Hopefully she'll give me this job once we land it."
"What would that involve," Helen asked knowing that it probably meant at least four years on the site.
"Well, the preliminary estimate is one year for survey and site preparation," Fred stated. "Then four years for construction, and one year for start up, about six years all together. If I can land this management position, we'll be set for life."
"Six years is a long time," Helen stated the obvious. "I don't want to be separated that long. If you get the position, I'll be coming with you. Our only problem will be Heath. I doubt if the schools in Africa can match our quality."
"Not to seem cruel," Fred sighed. "But I think we'd be better off enrolling Heath in a boarding school. It would give him the structure he needs."
"I'm not too crazy about a boarding school," Helen declared. "They're so impersonal and seem to just foster outlandish macho behavior. I'd fell better enrolling him in a private day academy but living in someone's home where he can feel a sense of family."
"You have a point," Fred stated. "He really needs a family environment right now. But I have no idea who we could impose upon to take him in."
"I'll discreetly check around," Helen stated already knowing that she would ask Hillary Balkut. She would see that Heath got what he deserved. "Now it's well past midnight. Let's go to bed."
The next day was Saturday but Fred headed into the office to work on the African plan. Despite having slept all afternoon and evening, Heath was so distraught and worn out by the emotional turmoil of his problems that he still slept in late. After a lot of soul searching and inner debate, Helen decided to confide in Hillary all she had done to Heath, especially since Hillary had so thoroughly feminized Leslie and had offered to put her into contact with the doctor who discreetly handled such matters. Hopefully she could get Heath to that doctor.
The vague meanderings of the initial portion of the call had let Hillary know that Helen had something important to discuss. Hillary was not surprised when Helen finally spilled the beans about giving Heath female hormones. After listening to the symptoms that indicated Heath had already succumbed to the irresistible effects of the female hormones, Hillary stated that she would gladly call the doctor that was treating Leslie and have the doctor call Helen to set up an appointment.
It was a bit after noon when the phone rang. Heath was in the living room watching a SAVED BY THE BELL rerun and eating a sandwich. Helen took the call in the den.
"Mrs. Reilly, I'm Dr. Cassandra Trate," the woman stated. "Hillary Balkut called me this morning and gave me a brief explanation of your situation with your son. I might be able to assist him with his condition. Is it safe to discuss the matter now?"
"Yes, we can talk," Helen replied nervously. "My husband is at work and Heath is watching TV."
"Very good," Dr. Trate stated firmly. "I'm extremely busy so I need to be quite blunt and get straight to the heart of the matter. I'm a plastic surgeon, an endocrinologist, and a hypno-therapist. I specialize in sexual dysfunction problems. Hillary told me that Heath had been spying on the cheerleaders for two months. The fact that you've been secretly giving Heath female hormones to curb his teenage sexual explorations finally put an end to that. From what Hillary told me he has lost all function of his sex organs and is on the verge of entering puberty as a teenage girl. I need to know how far into girlhood you want to take the boy."
"I'm not really sure," Helen replied sheepishly. "I haven't really thought this through. I just know I'm totally disgusted with Heath's stubborn macho behavior. I'm also quite captivated by Leslie Lynn Balkut. She is such an adorable young miss. I've always wanted a sweet daughter like her. When Hillary told me Leslie was really a boy I was stunned and wondered if my Heath could be made into a pretty girl. At first I pushed that idea right out of my mind. But when I discovered how perverted he was becoming, I just flipped out and put him on the hormones. Now they've shut down his boyhood and he's on the verge of entering puberty like a girl. Last night Heath broke down and confessed to all his perversions and the problem with his sex organs. While I'd truly love having him become my daughter, my husband would never allow Heath to become a girl. He's really upset about what's happening to Heath. I did manage to put the idea in his head that maybe Heath came down with an infection or fungus while spying on the cheerleaders from the tree, or that it could be from a tick bite. Fred thought that seemed plausible and even suggested that it might be some type of poison ivy."
"That was quick thinking," Dr. Trate chuckled. "I'm sure I can use those ideas as a basis to explain Heath's loss of masculinity and his unwanted entry into girlhood. With a little research and a lot of medical mumbo jumbo I should be able to convince both Heath and your husband that the boy's transformation into girlhood is irreversible and the result of an infection. Of course I'll only do this if you want a daughter."
"Yes, I want a daughter," Helen stated firmly. "What do we do to get things moving?"
"You've already accomplished that," Dr. Trate laughed. "I'll just continue the changes. My last appointment is at 1:45 today. Can you and your husband bring Heath in at 1:30 to fill out a health history and sign treatment forms?"
"I can get Heath there," Helen replied delighted with the prompt appointment. "I'll call my husband to see if he can meet us there."
"Tell him I insist on speaking with both parents in a case like this," Dr. Trate insisted. "I'll see to it that my receptionist gives him and Heath a beverage with a mild sedative coupled with a trance inducing drug. If your husband and son are typical red-blooded males, they'll be so captivated with my receptionist they'll never notice the drug. Your husband will be too busy drooling to read the permission to treat forms. Once the drug has taken effect, I'll be able to hypnotize them before I explain my theory about what's happening to Heath. While they'll be upset, neither will question my diagnosis. They'll accept the irreversibility of Heath's transformation into Heather."
"You can do that," Helen asked incredulously.
"Of course," Dr. Trate chuckled. "It's quite true that you cannot hypnotize someone to do something against their will. But it certainly is possible to give them a plausible explanation for symptoms and results of treatments. I can make them believe what I tell them. In this way, they simply accept as fact the changes and their irreversibility. Then I tell them that rather than struggle with the changes, if they truly want to avoid undo mental stress and anguish, that I can hypnotize them to accept and even enjoy the changes. Once they do this they are willingly allowing me to make the changes through hypnosis. It hasn't failed yet."
"I don't want to sound ungrateful," Helen asked sheepishly. "But to how many boys have you done something like this?"
"I don't mind that question," Dr. Trate laughed. "I'm proud of my record in converting rowdy males into sweet docile females. Heath will be the 39th teenage boy that I've changed into a teenage girl. Then there have been 52 rough and tumble little boys that I've changed into darling little girls Leslie is one of those. Then there have been 65 men that I've changed into women. Of those 155 males, 143 never wanted to become females yet all are now completely at ease as females and quite happy with their feminine lives. My record speaks for itself."
"I'll say it does," Helen agreed. "You certainly seem to enjoy your work."
"That I do," Dr. Trate chuckled. "I need to know what beverages your husband and son like so I can make sure my receptionist gives them something they'll drink."
"Fred likes coffee and Heath likes Coke," Helen replied.
"We have those on hand," Dr. Trate answered. "I'll see you about 2:00."
Hillary had gone into the office to work with Fred on the final details of their African proposal after calling Dr. Trate. They were hard at work when Fred's phone rang.
"That's great, Helen," Fred stated when his wife told him about the appointment with Dr. Trate. "I'm kind of tied up right now. I'm reviewing the African proposal with Hillary so I don't know if I can make it."
"But honey," Helen complained in her best hurt little woman voice. "The doctor said it was important we both be there with Heath."
"All right," Fred sighed. "Let me check with Hillary."
"Hillary," Fred said as he cupped the mouthpiece of the phone. "Heath's feeling under the weather and Helen managed to get an appointment with a specialist for this afternoon. The doctor wants both parents there. Do you think we could finish reviewing this later?"
"Of course, Fred," Hillary replied knowing whom Fred was going to see. "I hope Heath isn't seriously ill."
"I don't think it's too serious, “Fred answered, "But it is to a 14-year-old boy."
"Then by all means, go," Hillary replied. "I like a man who is willing to put family before business. It shows me his priorities are in the right order. It also has convinced me to offer you the management of this project when we land it."
"Are you serious," Fred exclaimed. "I'll get the job? Hillary, you have no idea what this means to me! Thank you!"
"It's I who need to thank you, Fred," Hillary replied. "Now go home and take care of Heath."
"Honey, I'll be right home," Fred said enthusiastically into the phone.
"I heard, darling," Helen explained. "Congratulations! I'll see you in a few minutes. I'll have Heath take a shower and change into clean clothes. We should be ready by the time you get here."
Heath and his mother were waiting on the front steps when Fred arrived home. The car had hardly come to a halt before he leaped out and ran across the lawn to hug Helen. Heath had never seen his father so happy. Once in the car, Fred explained what Hillary had told him about getting the African job and how it meant six years in Africa.
Heath knew his father had wanted to manage a big project for years and ordinarily he'd have been happy for his father. It was the chance of a lifetime, a big promotion. Yet it was exactly what the Leprechaun had pronounced in his bizarre dance about the fire in his cave! With a shiver of dread he recalled the exact phrases:
“I know! Mother and father about him sob;
so send the parents away to a new job!
Then Heath with Miss Hillary Balkut will live;
a new life in girlhood to him she will give!”
When nothing but silence from the rear seat greeted this news, Helen turned to look at Heath. She knew that he was well aware of how much his father wanted this job and should have been delighted. As she looked at him, she could see that Heath was pale and sweated.
"Heath, are you all right," she asked with motherly concern.
"Yeah," Heath muttered. "I'm sorry. That's great news, dad. I'm just nervous about going to this doctor. Will he have to check my private parts?"
Those words shifted the concern back to Heath. "Of course the doctor will have to check your private parts," Fred explained. "They do it for every physical. They may even give you a prostate exam."
"What's that," Heath asked sensing it wasn't something too pleasant.
"Well, it doesn't really hurt," Fred began. "But it is embarrassing as hell. The doctor puts on rubber gloves, has you drop your drawers and bend over, then after using Vaseline to grease your butt, slips a finger inside to feel the prostrate gland to make sure there is nothing wrong."
"You mean the doctor is going to stick his finger up my ass," Heath exclaimed in horror! "No way! I'm not gonna do it. I'm no fag!"
"Just calm down," Fred stated firmly. "I've had it done several times and I'm no fag. It's not pleasant but it is necessary. Every doctor I've gone to has been very professional about it. After all, they're guys too. They know how embarrassing it is. It's an unpleasant but necessary ordeal."
Heath folded his arms and sank back into his seat. Now he had to worry about some stranger sticking a finger in his ass. This entire thing was just too strange. What if he hadn't dreamed about the Leprechaun? What if it was all real? Was he going to become a girl?
Helen could see Heath was lost in a deep funk. She certainly wasn't about to tell Heath or Fred that Dr. Trate was not a man but a woman. That would only make matters worse.
They arrived at Dr. Trate's office at 1:30. The plaque on the door read: C. Trate, MD. Plastic surgeon, Endocrinologist, Hypnotherapist. Upon entering, Fred and Heath were awestruck by the receptionist. She appeared to be about 18 years old with long, silken honey blonde hair that reached to her waist. The name tag pinned to her blouse at her left breast identified her as Candi Trate. They all assumed she was the doctor's daughter. Helen was more than a bit miffed at the puppy dog expressions on the faces of her leering husband and son. Since the males were too tongue tied to speak, Helen identified themselves. Candi gave them a medical history form several pages long as well as several legal documents giving Dr. Trate legal permission to treat Heath.
It was a good thing Helen was with her husband and son since both were obviously so infatuated with the coquettish receptionist they heard little of what she told them. Fred and Heath were both taken in by the overt sexiness of the receptionist. Her big innocent green eyes sparkled and her little upturned nose wrinkled cutely as she gave them a dazzling smile. The white sheer satin blouse she wore allowed a virtually unobstructed view of her full firm breasts which were barely contained in a lace bra that clearly revealed large erect nipples. Helen had to nudge both Heath and Fred to draw them away from Candi to their seats.
When Candi saw Fred beginning to read the legal forms, she left her desk to ask them if they'd like a cup of coffee or Coke. The guys were now awed by her shapely nylon clad legs that disappeared so enticingly beneath her micro-miniskirt. The four inch heels she wore clicked across the tile floor in a heart pounding staccato the fellows found irresistibly sexy, especially since it was accompanied by a full view of her undulating hips. Neither objected to the beverages and eagerly drank the concoctions.
Helen knew the receptionist was only doing her job but it was clear that she enjoyed flirting and teasing the males with her vivacious body. Still, she was upset by the reaction of her husband and son. Candi proved that they were totally male chauvinist pigs. Helen smiled inwardly knowing that they were ingesting the hypnotic inducing drug that Dr. Trate had the receptionist put in their drinks. It served the horny males right.
The number of pages and forms was a bit overwhelming to Fred, especially when coupled with Candi's overt sexuality. Thus quite distracted, Fred merely skimmed through the legalese of the consent forms and hastily signed on the appropriate lines. Helen signed the consent forms with a secret grin. She knew that she was signing away Heath's masculinity. Fred had no idea that he was sentencing his son to life as a girl.
Little did the Reilly's realize that the lovely receptionist had once been Dr. Trate's husband. When she discovered he was cheating on her, she decided to fix him... permanently. He was the first male she transformed into a female. The man had not wanted to be a woman but Dr. Trate's treatment left him no choice. He was now a wanton woman in every way. The thrill Dr. Trate received from transforming her husband into a woman had been the impetuous to begin treating males to convert them into females. It was now a very satisfying and lucrative sideline to her practice.
A beautiful well-proportioned woman with fiery red hair cut in an easy to care pixie style entered the waiting room a few moments after Candi took the completed forms into the doctor. She too had green eyes, but her eyes blazed with an inner glow that left no doubt she was not a woman with whom to trifle. An open immaculate white lab coat revealed that she wore a form fitting white mini dress that revealed the outline of her generous curves but effectively hid all details. Long, powerful yet shapely legs emerged beneath her short skirt. Unlike the receptionist she wore sensible white flat slip on shoes. A stethoscope was suspended about her neck and she carried the clipboard Candi had taken into the back. She appeared to be about 38 years old and quite self-confident.
"Mr. and Mrs. Reilly," she said as she held out her hand to Fred. "I'm Dr. Cassandra Trate."
Fred's eyes grew wide as he drank in the dominant femininity of the woman. He looked at the left breast of her lab coat to see Dr. Trate embroidered there as he meekly accepted her powerful hand shake. The surprised man had never expected a female doctor.
Helen smiled and accepted the warm handshake Dr. Trate offered her. The reassuring squeeze just before they parted went unnoticed by the males. Helen was truly impressed by Dr. Trate.
"You must be Heath," Dr. Trate smiled as she reached out to shake the startled lad's hand. "Your case looks quite interesting and I'm sure I can straighten everything out for you.”
Heath quivered with apprehension. If this woman was the doctor then she had to do the examination! Desperately he looked to his father for guidance.
"Ah... I don't want to sound sexist but there's really no other way to say this," Fred began as he realized Heath's concerns. "With the nature of Heath's problems we were expecting a male doctor. I'm afraid Heath will be too embarrassed to undress before you and submit to a thorough examination."
"I understand," Dr. Trate replied with a smile. "I know how I feel when I had to go to a male gynecologist for an examination. There really is no need for concern. I'm a professional and the patient is my concern, regardless of sex. As an expert Endocrinologist I've successfully treated hundreds of males for various sexual dysfunctions. I'll tell you what, let's go back to an examination room. I'll do the normal portions of the physical before getting to the nitty gritty. If by then you still doubt my professionalism, I'll be glad to refer you to a male Endocrinologist. Dr. McCrae is as qualified as I am. Unfortunately, he's affiliated with Mercy Hospital and quite busy so it would probably take at least six to eight weeks to get an appointment with him. If you prefer to wait, I'll set you up."
"Thank you Dr. Trate," Helen replied. "I apologize for my sexist husband and son. I knew you were a female when we spoke on the phone. It's like you said, many women, including myself, go to a male gynecologist. Having you exam Heath is no different. Heath's concerns about his condition warrant immediate attention. We can't wait six to eight weeks. Let's go back and get started."
Fred and Heath really had no choice but to follow Helen and Dr. Trate. Once in the examination room, Dr. Trate handed Heath a hospital gown and told him to step into the adjoining restroom to put it on after removing all of his clothes. She also gave him a small cup with snap on lid in which to place a urine sample.
Heath nervously took the cup and entered the room to change. Fears about exposing himself to the woman doctor continued to fester as he stripped. Worries about the veracity of the Leprechaun dream continued. Filling the sample cup was no problem. Getting into the hospital gown proved to be quite a struggle.
"Mr. Reilly," Dr. Trate stated firmly as soon as Heath had left. "Do you want your son cured?"
"Of course," Fred replied. "Why wouldn't I want that?"
"You tell me," replied Dr. Trate. "You're the one who brought up the male-female issue. Are you such a chauvinist that you'd endanger your son's life?"
"Endanger his life," Fred gasped. "Do you think there's something seriously wrong with Heath? How can you tell?"
"Mr. Reilly, I'm one of the best Endocrinologist in the state," Dr. Trate replied. "I keep up on the latest research. I'm extremely busy and it normally takes a patient six to eight weeks to get an appointment to see me. When I was appraised of your son's symptoms, I decided to try to see him immediately. Now I don't want to say anything more until after I've had a chance to examine him. I know he'll be nervous to have me checking his genitals and prostrate. I need you to tell him it's all right. If he refuses to cooperate, I'll do my best to get him in to see Dr. McCrae as soon as possible. But I will not be held responsible for the consequences."
Fred was sweating. He looked at Dr. Trate and blinked his eyes in fear and concern. Helen had silently watched the exchange marveling at the way Dr. Trate so easily manipulated Fred. Of course, she knew a great deal was probably due to the effects of the drug he'd ingested with his coffee. But still, Dr. Trate had effectively cut off Fred's concerns about a female doctor, instilled the fear that something serious was wrong with Heath without being specific, and then wrapped it all up by insisting that he support the doctor or be responsible for the possible consequences which he naturally assumed to be dire.
"Fred, we have to let Dr. Trate examine Heath," Helen insisted with a touch of panic in her voice as she played along following the doctor's lead.
"Yes... yes, of course," Fred stuttered as he pulled out his hanky to mop his brow. "Thank you Dr. Trate. I never suspected this could be so serious."
"It may not be serious," Dr. Trate responded softly. "But the only way to find out is to examine Heath."
When Heath sheepishly emerged from the restroom, he felt silly. Wearing the examination gown was almost like wearing a dress. The thoughts of the Leprechaun's predication that he would become a girl gave him the willies.
"Relax, Heath," Dr. Trate stated softly as she smiled at him. "I've been talking with your parents and they agree that I should give you a complete exam. I'll be gentle and you can ask me any questions you want. If what I'm doing disturbs you, please ask me to stop and I'll explain what I'm doing and why. Many times knowing those things will make the exam go easier. Now, do you have any questions before I start?"
Heath looked at his parents to confirm Dr. Trate's words. His father had tight lips which meant he was prepared to back up the doctor's words. His mother just smiled and nodded her head. "Okay," he finally agreed.
The initial portion of the exam was quite routine. Taking his blood pressure and pulse, listening to his heart and lungs, checking his ears, eyes, and throat were all accomplished with ease. Dr. Trate's bedside manner was gentle and patient. The smile on her face and her gentle instructions put Heath at ease. This was greatly aided by the drugs he had ingested in the Coke.
Finally it came down to the nitty gritty. Heath timidly climbed up onto the examination table. Dr. Trate pulled out a white sheet and draped it over his legs up to his waist.
"Before I begin the physical portion of the exam, I need to ask you a few highly personal questions," Dr. Trate informed Heath. "Let me begin by saying that it's quite normal for a boy you age to masturbate at least once a day and many boys do so more than once day. This is nothing to be ashamed of since it's a normal biological consequence of male puberty. Now I need to know if, in that sense, you were a normal boy until these problems began."
Heath blushed and nervously bit his lips. After a sheepish glance to his parents he tentatively nodded his head.
"Thank you for being honest," Dr. Trate praised him. "I need to know all the facts before I can determine what the problem could be. I certainly can't begin any treatment until I understand the cause."
After having Heath lie back on the table, she lifted the examination gown to reveal his chest. Heath anxiously watched her face as she touched and prodded his chest, especially the puffy areas beneath his nipples. He winced when she pinched the enlarged nipples and was embarrassed to see the nipples responded by swelling and standing erect.
"There is definitely something out of the ordinary," Dr. Trate stated as she looked Heath straight in the eye. "I'm not sure what's causing this situation but it looks as if you're developing breasts. Your development and sensitivity is almost like that of a young girl entering puberty."
Heath blushed and lowered his eyes. "Can you stop it," he asked softly.
"I don't know," Dr. Trate replied with compassion as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "First I must complete the exam, get blood samples and have your urine sample tested, then combine the results to try to figure out what's happening. Are you ready to let me check your genitals?"
Heath glanced apprehensively at his parents. Fred and Helen were holding hands and smiling bravely. They nodded their heads. Heath swallowed and nodded his head.
"All right," Dr. Trate replied as she slipped on a pair of rubber gloves. "I know it won't be easy but just try to relax."
With that she restored the examination gown to cover him to the waist. Then she slowly slid the white sheet to reveal his groin. Heath clenched his eyes shut and held his breath.
"It might be easier if you watched," Dr. Trate stated softy. "I'll explain what I'm doing as we go."
Heath cautiously opened his eyes and looked down at his exposed crotch.
"First I need to examine your testicles," Dr. Trate stated as she gently grasped first one and then the other small ovid to squeeze and prod. "Your scrotum seems quite underdeveloped. Your testicles are small for a 14-year-old boy. You said you masturbated at least once a day and told your parents that you began having problems about four weeks ago."
"Yes," Heath whispered. "The problems have gotten steadily worse since then."
Holding onto his sac with one hand, Dr. Trate began to manipulate his penis with the other. "Has your penis gotten smaller during this time," she asked. Upon seeing his embarrassed nod she continued. "I'd guess it's been at least a week since you were able to even become erect. Is that about right?"
Heath blushed a deep red and meekly nodded his assent. He couldn't even look at his parents.
"Thank you," Dr. Trate again praised him as she released his genitals and once more covered his groin with the sheet. "Now the next part is a bit intrusive, I need to examine your prostrate gland."
Heath drew in a quick breath and glanced nervously towards his father. Fred grimly nodded his head. With a sigh of defeat heath lowered his head.
"I need you to lie on your side and raise your knees to your chest," Dr. Trate ordered as she opened a tube of K-Y jelly.
Heath followed the instructions and waited.
"Please try to relax," Dr. Trate ordered as she raised the sheet to reveal his butt. After squeezing some jelly onto her gloved finger, she gently applied it to his puckered anus. "If you tense up, this may hurt a bit. I'm about to insert my finger," she said as she applied a steady but unyielding gentle pressure.
Heath caught his breath as he felt the pressure. Embarrassed, he screwed his eyes tightly shut.
Suddenly her finger slipped inside his rectum up to the second knuckle. Heath gasped and opened his eyes in shock.
"Just relax," Dr. Trate soothed as she held her finger steady. "Now that doesn't hurt, does it?" With her free hand she was tenderly stoking his buttocks.
Much to Heath's amazement it didn't really hurt. It did feel quite unusual, but was only slightly uncomfortable. The gentle stroking helped calm his taut nerves. Gingerly he relaxed and shook his head.
"Excellent," Dr. Trate enthused as she began to once more apply pressure. "Now just stay relaxed. I need to push in just a bit further. There, now you can feel me probing your prostate."
Heath shivered as he felt her gentle prodding. The insistent contact felt good, almost like it did when he climaxed.
"Everything seems normal," Dr. Trate stated as she picked up a test tube with her free hand. "I'm going to slip a test tube over your penis," she explained as she did exactly that. "Now I'm going to apply pressure to your prostate gland to see if I can retrieve a sperm sample."
Heath caught his breath as he felt the pressure increase inside his bottom. A most pleasant sensation began, just like it did before he shot his wad. Suddenly there was a churning in his testicles and he felt a discharge erupt from the tip of his penis. "Oh... oh...," Heath gasped, instantly knowing that he had come without becoming erect!
"Very good," Dr. Trate praised him as she withdrew her finger and the test tube and restored the sheet to cover his groin. "Here are a few tissues to clean yourself."
Heath blushed as he cleaned both his damp penis and his greasy rectum. When he was done, he rolled over to look at the doctor. He saw her holding the test tube before her where they could all see it. There was about half an inch of clear fluid in the bottom. If that was his cum, Heath knew there was something very wrong with him. In the past his cum had always been a pearly white. From reading the porno magazines and ribald conversations with his buddies, Heath knew that all cum was that white. The expression on Dr. Trate's face spoke of great seriousness. Heath grew worried.
"I'll send this out for a lab check," Dr. Trate stated as she shook the test tube a bit. "But to judge by the looks of this, his sperm count has to be practically zero." With that she capped the test tube, placed a tag on it, and put in a carrier with the urine and blood samples.
"Heath, you told your parents you would climb a tree to spy on the cheerleaders while they practiced," Dr. Trate stated gently when she turned around to face him. "You also said that you would masturbate while you watched the cheerleders."
Heath sheepishly nodded is head.
"What happened to you sperm when you climaxed," Dr. Trate asked.
"I guess it shot onto the tree," Heath whispered after a few moments of thought.
"So your sperm just went onto the tree." Dr. Trate queried.
Heath nodded.
"Did you usually do it at the same spot," Dr. Trate asked.
"Yeah," Heath sheepishly replied.
"Was there a lot of moss on the bark where you did it," Dr. Trate questioned.
"Yeah, it was thick and soft," Heath answered.
"Did your sperm soak into the moss," Dr. Trate asked.
"I guess so," Heath replied. "I never really paid attention. It just seemed to disappear."
"Well, that could be the reason for your problems," Dr. Trate stated. "Of course I need to get the results of the lab tests to verify my suspicions."
"What do you think it is," Fred asked. "Is it serious?"
"If I'm right, and I'm not saying I am," Dr. Trate sighed as she looked from Fred to Heath. "It could be fatal if left untreated. Fortunately I'm certain we've caught it soon enough to allow treatment. I'll begin by giving Heath a powerful antibiotic which must be started immediately. If my suspicion is wrong taking the antibiotic won't hurt, but if I'm right it will save his life."
"What is it," Heath begged near tears.
"Moss is a fungus," Dr. Trate stated. "In a tree where it's thick and moist, it is a breeding ground for bacteria and germs. Semen is almost all protein, so if your sperm landed on nearly the same spot every day, you were in effect fertilizing that breeding ground. What I think happened is that the fungi, viruses, and germs thrived, multiplied, and mutated by reacting to each other and the fertilizing semen. By doing it every day at the same spot you also exposed yourself to whatever resulted. When your penis is erect, the urethra is a perfect conduit into your body. If you placed your hand unto the spot where this hodge podge fungal/virus was growing as you settled in, you got some of it on your hand. When you stroked yourself to climax, you smeared it all over your penis. I think it entered your urethra and traveled down to your testicles. If I'm correct, since semen was the primary food for it's growth and mutation and your testicles are the source of semen production, that is where it would head. In addition, since it fed on your sperm, it ingested your DNA so when it re-entered your body, your immune system would not recognize it as foreign so it wouldn’t attack th infection. It's been growing there ever since, literally devouring your manhood."
It took all of Helen's will power to keep a serious expression upon her face as Fred and Heath gasped with horror. Heath reached down to his crotch as if to protect his genitals.
"I'm going to be perfectly blunt," Dr. Trate stated. "Your testicles are probably already dead. That means they are no longer producing testosterone. Your body was accustomed to a high level of sex hormones due to your regular masturbation. When your testicles were attacked and devoured by the fungal/virus they stopped supplying those sex hormones. Your brain sensed this loss and sought alternative sources to produce sex hormones. Your brain sent out signals to your entire body to drastically increase the production of sex hormones. Unfortunately, testosterone is produced only in the testicles. The other sex hormone producing spots produce estrogen and progestogen, the female sex hormones. Normally the testosterone normally keeps their production limited. However, without the testosterone, your body went nuts. Every organ in your body that can produce sex hormones went into maximum overdrive. Your body has been and will continue to be flooded with female sex hormones. Your breast development is like that of a girl entering female puberty because YOU are entering female puberty."
Again Helen struggled to appear sincerely concerned as Heath and Fred gasped.
"I'm afraid there is more you won't like," Dr. Trate continued in a gentle compassionate voice. "The antibiotics cannot stop the fungal/virus, it can at best slow it down and keep it from spreading. However, since it is in a highly mutative state, it will only take a few days to overcome the antibiotic. Once it has devoured your testicles and penis, it will enter your body proper. Once it gets inside, I'm afraid there is nothing that can be done. It will kill you. During the few days the antibiotics are effective, I'll get the lab results. If my theory is right, the only way to save your life will be to surgically remove the infection. We'll need to completely remove your penis and testicles as soon as possible if the lab results confirm my theory. If we hesitate, it could be too late to save your life."
Helen bit her lip to keep from laughing. Fred sank back into his seat, totally shocked and defeated by Dr. Trate's hypotheses. Heath clutched his genitals and began to cry.
"Isn't there something you can do to save my balls," he sobbed in a plaintive voice.
"Well, if I'm proven right, there is only one way we could save your balls," Dr. Trate said as Heath and Fred perked up. "Once they have been removed from your body, I could sterilize them to kill the fungal/virus. You could then have them bronzed to keep as a memento. Otherwise they would be discarded in the infectious waste trash and incinerated. I've had several men who have had their family jewels preserved in that way when it was necessary for them to be castrated. A few even had the bronzed beauties gold plated and made into earrings."
Helen burst out laughing when she saw the looks of abject horror on the faces of Heath and Fred. Fortunately she was quick witted enough to fake a coughing spell to cover her loss of control. They were so shocked neither guy noticed her faux pas. Helen wondered how Dr. Trate was able to keep a straight face as she spun her tale. She also wondered how many sets of family jewels had been made into earrings.
"That's horrible," Fred gasped. "Why would anyone want to do that?"
"A lot of people have a major hang up over preserving the family jewels," Dr. Trate stated calmly and seriously. "Most men have spent all their lives reaching between their legs several times a day to adjust their testicles. At night many males lie in bed and idly play with their testicles. They claim it's quite relaxing."
Fred and Heath blushed revealing that both had often played with their balls. Dr. Trate knew exactly what she was talking about.
"As you have already sensed, losing your testicles can be quite traumatic," Dr. Trate continued after a brief pause. "By bronzing them, you can keep them. I have several patients who keep their family jewels nearby so they can fondle them and recall the times they hung between their legs. It's sort of like a charm. I highly recommend it."
"I think that sounds like a good idea," Helen proclaimed as Fred shook his head while Heath softly sobbed and longingly squeezed his balls. "Once they're in the trash, they're gone forever. By having them bronzed you can keep them. If you change your mind, you can always throw them in the trash later."
"Mom," Heath sobbed. "I want my balls where they belong!"
"I'm sorry Heath," Helen rebuked him sternly. "But if you had been behaving yourself none of this would have happened, now would it?"
"No," Heath sobbed quietly with great chagrin.
"So you have no one to blame for this but yourself," Helen continued. "Now it's no use crying over spilled milk... or in this case spilled sperm. There is also obviously no sense in punishing you for your transgressions since your fate is more than adequate punishment. What we need to do is find out what will happen once the fungal/virus is removed and destroyed."
"What does it matter," Heath moaned. "Without my balls and stuff what do I have to live for?"
"Heath Reilly," Helen scolded. "You'll have just as much to live for as you had before you began to play with yourself. When you were younger, you liked to play games. You liked to read. You liked to learn. You liked to go places and explore. Do you remember doing those things and having a good time?"
"Yeah," Heath whispered cowed by her forceful manner.
"Well you only stopped doing and enjoying those things when you discovered masturbation," Helen proclaimed. "Now you can go back to doing the things you liked. There is a great deal to live for."
"Your mother is right, son," Fred added weakly after being nudged by Helen. "Most of the things I do have no bearing on whether or not I have my male genitals."
"Heath, it is a proven fact that the majority of crimes of passion are the direct result of testosterone," Dr. Trate stated. "It's been a joke amongst women for years that many men think with their sex organs rather than their brains. From what your mother just said you had fallen victim to thinking with your sex organs. If you hadn't been so consumed by your lust, you would have never been in that tree. Every male I've castrated has benefitted by the loss and moved on to become a happier and more fulfilled person."
"That all sounds good," Heath cried. "But what am I supposed to do about gym class. If the guys see I don't have my male stuff, they'll harass me to no end. What about dating? How am I supposed to date a girl knowing I have nothing between my legs? What about getting married? What girl would want a man without sex organs? What about all that?"
"That's an entirely different situation and one that you will never have to face," Dr. Trate stated firmly but with great compassion. "You must remember what has already began. Your body has already adapted to the loss of male sex hormones by switching over to the production of female sex hormones. Your entry into male puberty was stopped cold and permanently. Your body reacted by realigning itself to continue entry into puberty. But since the possibility of continuing male puberty has been eliminated by the fungal/virus, the only option open was to convert to feminine puberty. The breast development already evident on your chest is just the beginning. It won't stop there. You will continue through puberty as if you were a girl. You will develop all the secondary sexual characteristics of a normal girl. Without you male parts between your legs, you will appear to be a normal girl. When I remove your male parts, I must create a way for you to urinate. Since I'm a qualified plastic surgeon, it will be quite easy to take the flesh from your scrotum and penis and refashion it into a functional approximation of female genitalia. You will look like a girl between your legs. You will relieve your bladder like a girl. You will even be able to engage in sexual intercourse as a girl. In effect, you will be a girl. The only difference is that you will not have monthly periods and can never become pregnant. Since you will in effect be a girl, there is now way you would be allowed to go into the locker room with the guys. You'll go into the girl's locker room. Since you will be a girl, you'll date boys. If you marry, you'll be the wife. That answers your questions about what you'll do about gym class, dating, and marriage."
"Y... you're going to t.. turn me into a g... girl," Heath stuttered. "But I don't want to be a dumb girl!"
"I won't be turning you into a girl," Dr. Trate stated coldly. "You did that when you played with yourself in the tree. All I'll do is save your life by completing what YOU began so that you can live a normal life. Another thing, young man, and I use that term VERY loosely, girls are not dumb. You don't see girls thinking with their genitals. You don't see girls showing off to prove their vaunted masculinity. You don't see girls getting into fights or starting wars. No, those are male things. It's the women who pick up the pieces after the men have screwed things up. It’s the men who are dumb! If women are dumb, it's because we put up with men in the first place! Mr. Reilly, tell me honestly, am I right or wrong in this matter."
Fred was caught completely off guard. His mind was lost in thoughts of losing his son. He had followed Dr. Trate's reasoning that Heath had already begun to change into a girl and that having her complete the transformation made sense. But that was on the logical level. On the instinctual level the entire idea was repulsive. To transform a boy into a girl was simply atrocious. Yet Fred realized it was the only practical alternative for Heath.
Seeing that Fred was momentarily befuddled, Helen jumped into the fray. "Fred, tell Heath that women are not stupid and that being a female is not repulsive," she stated in a firm, authoritative voice. "You're a mature male, you've been through puberty. You know how testosterone makes guys do stupid things. Tell Heath that if you faced his situation knowing that it was all a result of thinking with your sex organs, you would accept your fate and make the best of becoming a girl."
Fred stared at Helen as her words sank into his fevered brain. Thanks to the trance inducing drug he had ingested, he responded to the commanding tone of Helen's voice as well as to the meaning of her words. He felt and was in fact compelled to agree with her. "Heath...," Fred began hesitatingly as he sought the right words. "I know this all hard to grasp and has come as a complete shock, but Dr. Trate and your mother are right. Women are not dumb. In many ways they are superior to men. You were thinking with your sex organs when you did this. I thought with my sex organs many times. Most men do. Most times when we guys think with our sex organs we screw things up. While I would not want to give up my sex organs, if I faced a situation like yours where I had no other option but to give them up, I'd gladly accept becoming a female. It is certainly preferable to dying or going through life as a eunuch."
Heath cried. He too was under the compulsion factor of the trance inducing drug he had ingested. All that had been said burned into his brain, boring through the stubborn macho horror and repulsion that he had about losing his prized masculinity and becoming a girl. "I don't want to become a girl," he blubbered helplessly.
As he cried the memory of his encounter with the Leprechaun flooded back into his mind. Had it happened? It seemed so bizarre, yet everything the man had said was coming true with a heated vengeance. The little man had cursed him;
“Then Heath with Miss Hillary Balkut will live;
a new life in girlhood to him she will give!
The wish for a long, rich, happy, healthy life;
and good looking... all possible... as a wife!
As a cute girl he'll be sad for quite a while;
but some day Heather, a pretty lass will smile.
That last line said that he'd be unhappy as a girl for a while but that he'd soon be smiling as Heather. That fit right in with everything Dr. Trate and his mother said. The Leprechaun had also said that the changes would take time and that happiness would not be possible all the time but that he could and would be happy most of the time and that the good would heavily outweigh the bad. This was little consolation. Heath still didn't want to become Heather. But then what choice did he have.
"I'll rush these out to the lab today," Dr. Trate promised. "I should have the results by Monday afternoon. I'll contact the hospital now and arrange for Heath to be admitted immediately. We'll begin an IV antibiotic treatment right away and put him on complete bed rest. I can also administer sedatives to keep you relaxed and calm. If I don't, your anxiety could cause the fungal/virus to mutate faster and spread. If the lab results confirm my suspicions, I'll do the surgery Monday afternoon."
Helen was amazed by the nonstop barrage of ideas, orders, and suggestions that Dr. Trate created. Fred and Heath were so overwhelmed and dazed they merely nodded their heads acknowledging their hapless consent with her recommendations.
"I recommend you contact the school and notify them that Heath is ill and will be out for a while," Dr. Trate continued. "I'll provide an excuse. If we operate, Heath will become Heather. Once he... SHE, has recovered it will be virtually impossible for him... HER, to return to his old school as a girl. It would be best for him... HER, to be enrolled in St. Patrick’s Parochial School as a young lady. The nuns on the staff have been quite cooperative in the past about enrolling my patients. They'll simply tell the secular staff that Heather was a confirmed tomboy who with the advent of her puberty is now ready to learn how to become a proper young miss. The change in school environments and the stricter routine of St. Patrick’s Parochial School will make the transition into girlhood easier. During HER recovery I can use my hypnotherapeutic skills to assist Heather in adapting to life as a girl."
"That sounds like a satisfactory game plan," Helen commented as Fred and Heath exchanged bewildered helpless looks. "Heath, get dressed so we can get over to the hospital. The sooner we get you on the antibiotics the better I'll feel."
"I'll call ahead and make the arrangements," Dr. Trate stated. "Then I'll be over to make sure he receives the proper medications."
Heath continued to sob as he dressed. When he emerged, his mother was waiting.
"Your father went to get the car," Helen told Heath as she embraced him. "Everything will be all right, darling. We won't let anything bad happen to you. Now dry those tears and let's go," she added as she handed him a tissue.
Fifteen minutes later they entered the hospital. Upon identifying themselves at the desk, Helen and Heath were escorted to a ward while Fred entered the admissions office to begin the task of filling out the required paperwork. By the time Fred joined his family, Dr. Trate was already there. Heath was stretched out on a hospital bed with an IV in his left arm that was hooked to a bag of saline solution that hung by the bed. Heath appeared totally wiped out and just stared at the steady drip of the clear fluid from the bag into the tube.
"Dr. Trate put the antibiotic into the saline solution and injected a sedative into the line," Helen whispered as she clasped Fred's arm. "As you can see, it's already taken effect. His blood pressure and pulse was quite high until the sedative hit, now he's back to normal."
"That should take care of everything," Dr. Trate assured the adults. "I've left instructions for the nurses to keep the saline solution and antibiotic flowing continuously. They'll also give him a dose of the sedative every six hours. It should keep him pretty well out of it until Monday. I'll check up on him tomorrow."
"Thank you for everything you've done, Dr. Trate," Helen stated with firm conviction. "I don't know what we'd have done without your assistance."
"Ahh... yeah, thank you," Fred added after Helen jabbed him in the ribs.
"I'm always glad to help a boy find a way to live a better life," Dr. Trate replied. "Heath will be fine, the nurses will take special care of him. I strongly suggest you both get something to eat then go home and get a good night's sleep. Things will be pretty hectic by Monday and you'll want to be rested."
Helen understood that Dr. Trate was still using the trance inducing drug to make Fred amenable to the situation. "Dr. Trate, do you have something you could give us to help keep us calm and get some rest until Monday," Helen asked quite innocently.
"Of course," replied Dr. Trate giving Helen a wink while Fred was forlornly watching Heath. "I'll write out a few prescriptions and leave them with the nurses to fill. You can pick them up when you leave."
"Fred, you MUST take the medication I'm leaving," Dr. Trate ordered in a firm voice. "The gravity of Heath's condition and loss hasn't fully hit you yet. You will need this medication to stay cool and calm in order to be able to make rational decisions as the needs arise. Helen will handle the medication and make sure you both receive the proper doses. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Fred replied softly.
"Good, then I must be going," Dr. Trate added. "The medications should be ready in half an hour. If we miss each other tomorrow, I'll see you Monday."
After the doctor left, Fred stepped up to Heath's bed and placed a hand upon the boy's hand. Heath tore his eyes away from the steady dripping of the IV and sadly looked at his father.
"Daddy," Heath softly began using the term of address he'd abandoned when he reached school age. "It really is my fault. You see, I didn't tell you everything that happened yesterday."
"That doesn't matter, son," Fred declared as he fought back tears. "What's done is done. We'll get through this. Everything will work out, I promise."
"Thanks daddy," Heath giggled and smiled up deliriously. "But I really have to tell you everything about yesterday. It's really important!"
"All right," Fred acquiesced. "Tell me what happened."
"Well, you know those stories grandpa used to tell about the Leprechauns back in Ireland and how some of them came to this country with the Irish immigrants," Heath began.
"Yes," Fred replied as Helen joined him. "But what has that got to do with what happened yesterday"
"Well, I wasn't asleep in the tree for that entire time," Heath explained gently. "A cackling noise woke me up while the cheerleaders were still practicing. I looked down from my perch and saw a little man about two feet talk all dressed in green standing at the base of the tree. He was watching the girls and playing with himself. I knew he was a Leprechaun and that if I caught him I'd get three wishes just like grandpa said. So that's what I did. I caught him."
Heath continued to babble on telling all that had happened including the verses. At first Fred and Helen gently humored their son assuming his prattling was the result of the sedative. But once he began reciting the long rhymed verses of the Leprechaun's poem-speeches, they began to grow concerned. Heath had never shown any poetic leanings and to now have him come up with such elaborate verse was inconceivable. The only semi-logical explanation was that Heath was telling the truth and had encountered a Leprechaun.
"I should have listened to Great grandpa when he warned me to never mess with a Leprechaun because they're so tricky," Heath sobbed quietly. "It's all my fault.”
"Leprechauns are only fairytales," Fred began. “They don't really exist. You had to have dreamed the whole thing."
"Then how did I know that I was going to be changed into a girl," Heath whispered as tears filled his eyes. "How did I know you were going to get a job that would take you and mom far away to a place I couldn't go? I did want to make out with Leslie, I did want to get into her panties. Now it looks as if I will. It had to be the Leprechaun! There is no other explanation!"
"Anything is possible," Helen soothed her son. "But what's done is done. There is nothing we can do but go on. The Leprechaun did say you would learn to be happy being a pretty girl and that you would marry. So things can't be all that bad. Just think of that as the end of the rainbow."
"Yeah, I guess I should," Heath whispered as he settled beneath the covers. "I think I'm going to sleep now."
In seconds the boy was out. Fred and Helen exchanged bewildered looks.
"Do you think he did find a Leprechaun," Fred asked. "Grandpa was dead serious when he told those tales. I always thought he was trying to frighten us kids. Now I'm not sure."
"It has to be his imagination," Helen declared with greater confidence then she felt. "The problems with his body began before yesterday."
"Are you sure," Fred asked. "The Leprechaun said the wishes would come true as nature made minor changes to reality. The only way we know that Heath was having sexual problems before yesterday was because he told us he had been having them. What if the magic made him remember having problems when none existed. This entire fungal/virus could be a result of the magic. Heath never knew we were talking about leaving him here while we went to Africa. He never even knew about the possibility of me getting such a job until we were in the car riding to see the doctor. The idea of Hillary Balkut taking him in isn't all that outlandish, especially once she discovers he's becoming a girl. That would put he and Leslie in the same grade. Dr. Trate said we should enroll him in St. Patrick’s Parochial School, the same school Leslie attends! Then there's the entire deal about him getting into Leslie's panties. That can easily happen when two girls the same age live together. There are simply too many coincidences here. He had to have encountered a Leprechaun!"
"It does seem like a lot of coincidences," Helen agreed warily. She began to wonder if perhaps the magic could have made her remember giving Heath her hormone pills. It would only be a minor alteration in reality to make all that appear to have happened. "But what about the Leprechaun stating that the changes had to be small and secret so as not to disturb nature's fabric?"
"So who would believe Heath's story," Fred explained. "We only have doubts because we heard his tale first hand. The more the story is repeated, the more far fetched it will sound. No one will believe us. It will be like spotting a flying saucer. They'll write the entire thing off to our nerves. Who knows, they may be right."
"Yes, you're probably correct," Helen replied as she thought about how she had no choice but to keep quiet about giving Heath the hormones. "I guess we'll never know if he encountered a Leprechaun. However, the idea of asking Hillary to take him in sounds quite good. We know and trust her. Living in the same house with Leslie would surely help Heath adjust to being Heather. He'd have a friend and classmate in his new school. I think I'll call Hillary when we get home and explain all that's happened."
"That sounds like a good idea," Fred added. "I guess we'd better go home."
Helen made sure to give Fred the medication Dr. Trate prescribed. After they ate supper, they called the hospital to make sure Heath was doing all right. Then Fred turned in for the night.
Helen began checking her receipts from the drug store to make sure she hadn’t imagined giving Heath the female hormones but everything was there as she remembered. Still, it all could have been a part of the magic. She began to wonder if she had done all that she did. Finally she called Hillary.
Hillary listened as Helen spilled everything, including Heath's tale about the Leprechaun. "Well, Heath certainly has a wild imagination," Hillary laughed. "I never saw that side of him. But his idea of coming to live with me sounds perfect. I'm sure Leslie would be VERY understanding and helpful as he makes the transition into girlhood. Joyce would simply love to have another delightful cherub under her motherly wings. I guarantee that Heath will become a thoroughly delightful and happy Heather in short order. Isn't Dr. Trate marvelous? She certainly knows how to manipulate males! Her imagination is as good as Heath's when it comes to creating scenarios that preclude a male from continuing in his gender while forcing him to become a female. I'll bring Leslie and Joyce to visit Heath tomorrow while you and Fred are there. I'll make it a point to invite Heath to live with us when you and Fred go to Africa. Now it sounds like you've had a full day. Please get some rest. See you tomorrow!"
Helen hung up the phone and shook her head. Things were moving too fast, much faster than she had anticipated. It seemed as if Hillary was just as anxious as Dr. Trate to convert Heath into a girl. Her doubts grew, her concerns about Heath's Leprechaun grew, but so did her fear of what would happen if she attempted to derail Heath's projected sex change at this late point. She'd go to jail for what she did if the truth came out. But what if the Leprechaun had created the entire thing? Had the Leprechaun magic really created a fungus/virus infection in Heath's testicles? Was Heath's life in danger if she stopped the surgery? There was no way she could take that risk. She could only go forward and transform her son into her daughter. With that unsatisfactory conclusion, Helen took a sedative and crawled into bed beside Fred.
Early the next morning Helen and Fred went to the hospital. Heath was awake but still pretty well out of it due to the sedatives and tranquilizers placed in his IV. The family sat making small talk, reading the Sunday newspaper, and watching TV. Abut mid-afternoon Hillary, Leslie, and Joyce arrived.
The pretty girl was a vision of girlish loveliness wearing a vibrant yellow satin empire waist dress. The long sleeves ended in a ruffled cuffs trimmed with delicate white lace to match the lace edged ruffles of the Peter Pan collar. Matching lace edged ruffles delineated the princess seams of the body hugging bodice that piquantly outlined yet fully hid Leslie's pert breasts. The skirt saucily flared out from the empire waist. The knee length full skirt, hemmed with a lace-edged ruffle that matched the other cute ruffles, was obviously held out by several crinkly bouffant petticoats that rustled sweetly with even her tiniest movement. Rose patterned yellow tights accentuated her shapely legs. Yellow ankle strap yellow patent leather pumps with two inch heels adorned her dainty feet. Leslie's face was made up to accentuate her youthful innocence while revealing her burgeoning femininity. A soft blue eye shadow accentuated her baby blue eyes. A slight touch of rose blush made her cheeks appear virginally pure. A soft yet glossy baby pink lipstick detailed her pouty full lips. Cute softly curled bangs whispered gently against her the delicate arches of her eye brows. Her long blond hair was parted own the center. The silken tresses were gathered into identical bunches just above and behind her ears. Yellow satin ribbons tied into perky bows secured the bouncy ponytails so that her shimmering locks seemed to erupt from the sides of her head and cascade past her shoulders like golden water from a magic fountain. A small yellow patent leather purse hung from her left shoulder. Taking all aspects of her appearance together, Leslie presented an image that was childishly pure and innocent yet bespoke of an enchanting teenage sexiness.
At first Heath smiled drunkenly when he saw Leslie, then unexpectedly he began to cry. The girl of his dreams had become the girl of his nightmare. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any harm," he blubbered. "It's all the Leprechaun's fault. I really like you, Leslie, but I don't want to be like you. I'm a boy, I don't want to be a girl. I meant it as a compliment when I said I wanted to get into your panties. Please, I want to be your boyfriend, not your girlfriend. Don't let them change me into a girl."
"I accept your apology, Heath," Leslie assured the crying lad. "But from what I understand you turned yourself into a girl. The doctor will just be finishing what you started. Your mother told my mother and she told me all about your dream about encountering a Leprechaun. You either have a pretty good imagination or you're psychic. I hope you're psychic, we could have a lot of fun," Leslie giggled as she wrinkled up her nose.
"My mother thinks your idea about moving in with us when your parents go off to Africa is just great," Leslie declared. "After your surgery when you're a complete girl we'll be like sisters! We'll be in the same class at St. Patrick Parochial School. We can even share a bedroom! I think we'll even be able to exchange clothes. So you see, you will be able to get into my panties every day! We'll be best girlfriends!"
"But Leslie, you don't understand," Heath wailed. "I'm a boy! I don't want to be a girl. I'll never get used to wearing skirts and stuff."
"Of course you will," Leslie laughed. "Besides, just because you WERE a boy doesn't mean you can't become a girl. There are lots of girls who used to be boys."
"Yeah, right," Heath sobbed. "If there are girls who used to be boys they probably look real ugly."
"Am I ugly," Leslie asked softly as she took Heath's hand in hers.
"No, you're real pretty," Heath sniffled sadly. "But then you are a real girl. Oh I so wanted to be your boyfriend."
"You were my boyfriend for a while," Leslie cooed softly. "But you're wrong about me being a real girl. I was born a boy just like you. Only my mother raised me as a girl. It was only last June after school left out that Dr. Trate operated on me to make me a complete girl. You think I'm pretty? Well, I think you'll be just as pretty as I am when your surgery is completed. I'll be with you every step of the way as you learn about being a girl. I'll help you adjust. I understand how you feel now and how you will feel once you accept being girl. I'm sure the Leprechaun in your dream was right when he said you'll learn to be happy as a girl."
Fred gaped at Leslie. Then he looked to Helen and Hillary to see both women nod to affirm what Leslie had announced. Fred felt his heart flutter as he thought about how crazy everything was becoming.
Heath just stared at Leslie in disbelief. "You're just trying to make me feel better," he sobbed. "There's no way you were ever a boy!"
"Oh I beg to differ," Dr. Trate declared as she entered the room. "Leslie was a boy with all the sex organs of a boy. I changed her into the girl she is today."
"Well... that's because she was raised as a girl,” Heath declared indignantly. "No boy who wasn’t raised as a girl could ever become a pretty girl."
"You're wrong, sweety," Dr. Trate laughed. "I've changed dozens of boys into girls and quite a few men into women. They all look beautiful."
"Baloney," Heath declared with a weak trembling voice.
"Do you remember meeting my receptionist yesterday," Dr. Trate asked.
"Yeah," Heath replied apprehensively.
"She is quite pretty, isn't she," Dr. Trate persisted. "She looks to be about 18 or 19 years old, doesn't she?"
"Yeah," Heath answered hoarsely. "You're not going to tell me she was your son are you?"
"Of course not," Dr. Trate laughed. "If I had a son that I converted into a pretty girl she wouldn't need to work. No, Candi was my husband until I caught him cheating on me. Now Candi is a lovely girl, complete in every way, and she loves to date men. I made her look so young and pretty it's hard to believe that she's really 38 years old."
Heath just stared at the smiling doctor in disbelief. Fred choked. He too had a great deal of difficulty believing that sexy young Candi was 38 and had once been man. Helen was equally stunned by the revelation.
"Candi was the first male I transformed into a girl," Dr. Trate proudly declared. "I did him out of anger for betraying my love and discovered I enjoyed doing it. When I heard other women complaining about their problems with males, I offered my assistance. I'm proud of my record in converting rowdy males into sweet docile females. Heath will be the 39th teenage boy that I've changed into a teenage girl. Then there have been 52 rough and tumble little boys that I've changed into darling little girls Leslie is one of those. Then there have been 65 men that I've changed into women. Of those 155 males, 143 never wanted to become females yet all are now completely at ease as females and quite happy with their feminine lives. My record speaks for itself. If you ever see that Leprechaun of yours, send him to me. I could use some of his magic to help me transform boys into girls."
With that she began to examine Heath while the boy sobbed and blubbered. Leslie stepped to the head of the bed and took his right hand in hers, squeezing it reassuringly and smiling.
"I can verify all that Dr. Trate has told you is true," Hillary explained as she drew Fred and Helen to one side. "Helen already knew about Leslie but I had asked her to keep it a secret. After what my father did to me I hated all males entirely too much. When Leslie was born, there was simply no way I could bring myself to raise a son. Joyce had been my friend at the home for unwed mothers but her baby was stillborn. She was devastated, so when Leslie was born I hired her to be Leslie's nanny. I used the money I received after I blackmailed my father into supporting me. We've been together ever since. Over the years I've learned to handle my hatred for men but I'll never be able to become intimate with a male. I guess since I've told you this much I may as well tell you everything. Joyce and I are lovers."
Fred shook his head in disbelief. "This is simply too bizarre," he whispered as he tried to assimilate all that was happening.
"Hillary confided in me that first day when she returned," Helen confessed. "But she made me promise to keep her secrets. I'm sorry dear."
"Leslie was correct about my offer to take in Heath," Hillary stated. "I received a telegram late last night. The African's have tentatively approved the deal. I'd like you and Helen to be in Africa by Friday. You can sign the deal for Balkut Engineering and get started on the project. Heath will be awake by then so you can say goodbye. When he's discharged, I'll bring him home and settle him in Leslie's bedroom. Joyce will look after them. She'll take them to St. Patrick’s Parochial School and pick them up. She'll escort them to all extra curricula activities. She'll see to it that Heath learns to be Heather. Pack what you want to take with you. I'll have movers come in and remove Heath's boy things and donate them to charity. Then I'll have the movers pack up and label everything else and move it into storage, all at company expense of course. Then I'll hire a rental agency to rent out your home until you return. The agency will see that your home is properly maintained and pay for any needed maintenance out of the rental. Naturally, all the profits will go directly into your accounts."
"I don't know," Fred declared shaking his head. "This is all happening so fast. I think Heath needs us more than I need that position."
"That's quite admirable," Hillary praised. "But reality dictates otherwise. Heath will be a girl. You will not be able to look at her without seeing your lost son. Your presence, your masculinity, will hinder her ability to adapt to and accept her new life. By allowing her to make a clean break with the past, you are giving her the freedom to accept being a girl. In my home there will be no reminders of masculinity. Heather will be surrounded by femininity and have three females who care a great deal about her to help her make this difficult transition. If you do this for Heather, she'll be comfortable with her girlishness by summer. She can come to you in Africa and spend the summer. By the time you greet your daughter, she'll be so girlish you'll have no choice but to fully accept her femininity. Of course, we'll keep in touch during this time. Weekly phone calls and daily e-mail will keep you and her abreast of the changes in your lives. Think, Fred, you know I'm right."
"Why pick on me," Fred snapped. "It seems as if you two have already settled this."
"We discussed it last night," Helen stated as tears filled her eyes. "But I never agreed to do it. However, all that she's said is true. I will hate to leave Heath but it's really for the best."
Fred sighed and hung his head. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Then he looked up at Hillary with steely eyes. "I thought your father was a shrewd businessman. You've got him beat by a mile."
"That's because I consider the human side of every business deal," Hillary explained. "Just as I'm doing with you. Considering human feelings and emotions is not something that can be discounted. I honestly believe in making deals where every party comes out a winner. I promise to love Heather as if she were my own daughter. I promise to give her back to you a happy, healthy pretty girl."
"What if Heath doesn't need the surgery," Fred asked after a few moments of thought. "You can't take him in if he's not a girl."
"No, I can't," Hillary agreed. "But think how obnoxious Heath will be if he comes through this debacle with his masculinity intact. You must agree he was a horror as a teenage boy. Think what he'll be like with an invincibility complex. If he doesn't kill himself in a car wreck or with drugs, he'll probably end up in jail."
"Hillary's right, dear," Helen agreed. "Look how angry you were with him when you found those drugs in his bedroom. You know how rebellious he had become. This shutdown of testosterone has shown that he can be a decent person. What will he be like as an arrogant teenager with a drivers license?"
"I don't believe this," Fred exclaimed. "Let me get this right. You're both saying we should transform him into a girl whether or not it's warranted?"
"Yes," the women said together.
"That's nuts," Fred stated with astonishment. "You're both as crazy as Dr. Trate! Why would I want to destroy my son?"
"To save his life," Dr. Trate declared as she joined the group. "Think about his chances for survival to 18 if the lab tests don't show a fungal/virus. He'll surely kill himself one way or another. There's a good possibility he could take some innocent people with him. How would you feel then?"
"But how will he feel if he finds out the surgery wasn't needed," Fred asked.
"Why does he need to know," Dr. Trate declared. "Why do YOU need to know? If you both think he needed the surgery because of the fungal/virus, it gets done and you'll accept his life as a girl. If you know he didn't need the surgery, you'll emotionally rip yourself apart. If you don't change his sex and he kills himself, how will you feel then knowing you passed up an opportunity to save his life? It's far better if you never know the truth. I'll tell you he has the fungal/virus whether or not he does and do the surgery. I can use hypnotherapy to help you accept his fate and to believe that I told you the truth. So, do you want to save the life of your child?"
Fred shivered. "I don't know," he mumbled. "This is all giving me a headache."
"Come down the hall with me, Fred," Dr. Trate ordered as she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "There's a private consultation room there. We can talk this over. I'll give you a little dose of a trance inducing drug so we can try a little hypnotherapy. If it makes you feel better, we'll give you a stronger dose and a longer session."
"Helen...," a much bewildered Fred asked as he stumbled after the doctor.
"Give it a try, honey," Helen suggested. "If you don't think it will help after a short try, we'll think of some way out of this mess."
Hillary smiled and hugged Helen as Fred disappeared though the door. "Dr. Trate will convince him the test results will come back positive. By tomorrow night you'll be the proud mother of a lovely teenage daughter."
"I just hope I'm doing the right thing," Helen declared nervously.
"Of course you are," Hillary declared as she took Helen's arm. "Maybe you should join Fred and let Dr. Trate alleviate your concerns too."
"I...I don't know," Helen stuttered as she followed Hillary down the hall.
"First, make sure the toilet seat is down," Leslie instructed as Heather did as she was told. "It's quite embarrassing to fall down into the water. Then stand in front of the toilet as if you were going to sit. Slip your panties down to your ankles. Now lift the hem of your nightie over your butt, then sit and release the hem making sure to expose your thighs. Great, you're doing fine, girl. Now spread your knees a bit, about three inches. Too much more and you'll spray all over the place. Any less and you'll spray all over your thighs. That's perfect, Heather, you're doing fine. Now, just relax your bladder and let nature do its thing."
Heather bushed and did as she was told. "Ah, nothing's happening," she whispered in obvious confusion.
"I had that problem at first too," Leslie reassured her. “It's an entirely different set of muscles now. Your body seems to know which ones to use to keep it in check but you don’t know which ones to relax. This will help."
With that she turned on the faucet so a steady light flow of water ran into the basin. The sound of the splashing water intensified Heather's need to go.
"Oh, I really need to go now," Heather gasped as she wriggled on the seat.
"Just try to relax everything down there," Leslie instructed. "It'll come."
Heather bit her lip and concentrated on relaxing her groin. The sound of the splashing water was driving her need to pee to tremendous heights. Suddenly as if of it's own volition the urine exploded from her groin.
"Oh," Heather gasped obviously startled. She instinctively squeezed her thighs together and tensed. This almost immediately shut off the much needed release, but not before saturating her thighs. "Oh gross," she exclaimed as she quickly opened her thighs.
"I did the same thing," Leslie chuckled handing her some toilet tissue. "Clean yourself and let's try again. Just remember to keep your knees apart."
Heather gingerly wiped her thighs dry, then repositioned herself. This time as she began to slowly relax, she could feel the flow begin. With trepidation she sought to control the release. Her efforts were successful. In seconds a steady splashing was heard from the bowl as the urine emptied from her bladder. A guilty smile filled her face.
"See, it wasn't difficult to learn," Leslie exclaimed. "Of course, you'll make a few mistakes until it becomes natural, but you'll get it. Now, GENTLY wipe yourself dry by going from the front to the back. If go the other way, you could get a nasty infection. If you don't get it all, you'll get a bladder infection and that really hurts. If you wipe too hard, you'll irritate yourself down there and you don't want to be sore or tender down there. If you wipe too long, you'll get turned on. That's not all that bad, but it can make you take too long."
Heather giggled nervously and cautiously followed Leslie's instructions. She immediately understood what she meant by wiping too long. It felt so naughty and yet so nice. A few moments later, with her panties and modesty restored, Heather washed her hands and returned to bed. She was a much wiser girl. The simple biological experience of relieving her bladder had served as another nail to drive shut the coffin of her boyish past. Heather was rapidly on her way to becoming a complete girl.
Leslie spent Friday night and all of Saturday in the hospital with Heather. The two had been friends but now they became best girlfriends. Heather found the comradery of someone who was undeniably a prissy girl but had been born a boy to be a tremendous aid in adapting to her own girlishness. Of course, Heather still didn't think of herself as a prissy girl, she felt more like a tomboy coming of age. The inner arguments ceased as the three aspects of her personality slowly blended into one. By Sunday morning, there was very little left of BBIV. The macho portion was permanently silenced and really consisted of boyish memories. TSIV totally merged with CGIV once it realized the only difference between the two was their gender. Once TSIV was lucid enough to understand and accept that it could never again be male, it melded smoothly with CGIV. Of course, this was all facilitated by Leslie's insipid sexuality. She didn't miss an opportunity to show Heather just how nice it was to be a pretty girl.
Whenever Heather began to slip into self pity or self loathing about losing her masculinity and being transformed into a girl, Leslie promptly snuggled up to the new girl and took her in her arms to comfort her. Naturally, each time Leslie turned her hugs of compassion into caresses of lust. Poor Heather, still partially in the mind set of a constantly horny teenage boy found great comfort and release in sexual gratification, even though it was now a very feminine gratification rather than the accustomed male self-abuse. This was highly effective since, like most boys, Heath had associated sexual gratification with pleasure. The fact that the arousal was now feminine and of greater magnitude and duration steadily erased the dejected, sorry emotions that emerged whenever Heath sighed about the loss of his male genitals. Instead, every time Heath seemed to emerge, Leslie pounced on the unsteady boy and drove home the fact that he was a girl by bringing him to a tremendous feminine orgasm.
This strengthened Heather and made her look forward to making out with Leslie. Saturday night, Heather woke up in the middle of the night feeling the loss of her boyhood. She reached over and tentatively began to caress Leslie's perky breasts. Leslie instantly woke up and moaned, rolling to offer Heather better accessibility to her breasts while reaching out to fondle Heather's budding beauties. In moments the satisfied girls snuggled together, basking together in the delicious warm afterglow of mutual multiple orgasms.
It was late Sunday morning when Dr. Trate arrived to find the giggling 14 year old girls cuddled together on the bed. "Well, Heather, it seems as if you're beginning to enjoy being a pretty teenage girl," she said with a smile.
"I guess I'm getting used to being a girl," Heather responded softly. "I wouldn't say I'm enjoying it."
"Don't believe her," Leslie retorted saucily. "Her answer was just a left over load of macho crap. She loves being a girl! She's turning into a regular nymphomaniac. Heck, all I have to do is cup her breast and she starts coming!"
"Leslie," Heather indignantly exclaimed as she turned beet red and modestly attempted to shield her budding breasts.
"Don't go trying to be so pure and virginal, girl," Leslie retorted. "You are one horny sexy little bitch."
Heather bit her lip and lowered her eyes. Despite her embarrassment, having Leslie say those things made her pert breasts tingle with excitement. "I can't help it when you touch me like that," Heather snapped defensively.
"Yeah, right," Leslie laughed. "Once you're healed, girlfriend, you and I are going to date a couple of the cuter guys at St. Patrick's. We'll see then if it's my touch or not."
"Leslie," Heather gasped as she shivered with a mixture of dread, terror, and anticipation. She guiltily found herself wondering what it would feel like to have a guy fondling her sensitive breasts.
"You'll do just fine as a girl," Dr. Trate reassured Heather. "You're just super sensitive right now do to the surgery and the absence of testosterone. Currently, your body has a much higher level of female hormones than is normal. Things will settle down once you endocrine system adjusts to being girl. You'll settle down in about for three or four weeks. Leslie was quite a little minx for about the same time after her surgery. Right now I think she's just playing with you. She knows how delightful it is to be a girl. She's trying to help you learn to enjoy your girlishness."
Heather frowned and looked at Leslie. "So you've been playing with me," she scolded as Leslie became visibly apprehensive. "Well, you'd just better keep it up and do it right! Gotcha!" Both girls began to giggle.
"You two are going to make quite a pair," Dr. Trate observed. "Unfortunately, it's time for one of the things that is not too pleasant for a girl. Heather, I'm going to have to give you an internal examination to make sure everything is healing properly inside."
Heather had heard her mother complain about going to the gynecologist for an exam. She blushed deeply and glanced at Leslie who had paled a bit. "Does it hurt," she tentatively asked.
"Not really," Dr. Trate replied. "I'm very gentle, Leslie will vouch for that. It's just uncomfortable and invasive."
A few moments later Heather found herself lying back on the bed, naked below her waist. Leslie held her hand and smiled bravely. Dr. Trate secured a pair of leg braces with stirrups to the bottom of the bed, then took Heather's legs and placed her feet in the stirrups, strapping her legs to the frame supports to prevent her from moving. Once Heather was securely trussed, Dr. Trate spread the stirrups so the new girl's legs were spread wide and raised high, totally exposing her newly remodeled groin. Dr. Trate then placed a stool between Heather's outstretched thighs.
"Now, I have to remove your vaginal form," Dr. Trate explained as she slid the penile shaped plastic device from Heather's feminine depths.
Heather gasped and squirmed a tiny bit. The removal of the vaginal form was by that time a familiar sensation but having it done in her current helpless prone position made her feel weak and vulnerable. Images of the busty women from the stash of porno magazines flashed into his mind. Back then, when he was still a boy, seeing a smiling buxom babe with her legs spread wide to reveal her well fucked cum filled pussy had been a tremendous turn on. Tears of humiliation came to Heather's eyes as she recalled the many times she'd beat her meat while drooling over such lewd pictures. When she had been a boy, such pictures had seemed exciting and naughty. Now that she was a girl and found herself spread in a similar manner, such pictures seemed demeaning and horrible. A shiver swept through her body as she realized that in her present restrained position, if a boy were present, he could freely have his way with her.
"I know this isn't easy for you, Heather," Dr. Trate soothed. "There are no boys around and none will see you like this. Now, I'm going to insert a tool inside you. It will allow me to spread you apart enough so I can see all the way inside. It's made of stainless steel so it can be sterilized to prevent the introduction of any infections. Unfortunately this also means that it is cold. I'll be as quick as I possible. Are you ready?"
Heather looked to Leslie for reassurance. Leslie smiled the that half-hearted smile that says what's abut to happen isn't pleasant but it is bearable and necessary. Heather swallowed bravely then glanced at Dr. Trate with pleading eyes as she bit her lip and curtly nodded her head.
Dr. Trate was as good as her word. The examination was done with alacrity and deftness. Heather twitched and gasped as the cold steel touched her highly sensitive flesh. The anxious girl screwed her eyes shut and tightly squeezed Leslie's hand. The device was only about six inches long, an inch across, and a quarter inch thick. As Dr. Trate inserted it in her, Heather felt as if her entire body were being invaded. As it slipped into her feminine sheath, Heather thought the six-inch length felt as if it were six feet. The sensations, she discovered, were quite unpleasant and the entire procedure felt most demeaning. As the device was sliding into her body touching the sensitive flesh of her new vagina, Heather shivered as she remembered her super sensitive vaginal flesh had been the skin of her penis! It now served the exact opposite purpose for which it had been genetically designed. A single tear trickled down one cheek as she guiltily recalled how often, when she had been Heath, he had wished to slip his proud randy man-flesh into a nice tight wet vagina. Now the very emblem of his masculinity had been converted into the ultimate emblem of submissive femininity. Instead of penetrating a vagina with his penis, she would be penetrated in her vagina by a penis. The fact that her vagina was his former penis was even more disturbing. For the shaken new girl, this humbling insight served as the final nail in the coffin of her former masculinity.
"Everything looks just fine, Heather," Dr. Trate informed her once she'd completed the examination and released the girl. "The incisions are healing properly. Although I don't recommend you try, in about a month you should be capable of intercourse without fear of injury."
"She told me the same thing and I'm still a virgin," Leslie giggled as Heather blushed profusely. "Of course, I haven't dated any boys yet. So far the closest I've come to having a boyfriend had been Heath. You know how intimate we became. I think you and I will begin dating guys together, you know, double dates. I think it'll be a lot safer that way and we'll have each other to depend upon to not let the guys get too fresh."
"I don't think I'm ready to date guys," Heather anxiously whispered. "I don't think I could handle it yet."
"Nonsense," Dr. Trate stated. "I think Leslie has the right idea. Both of you are afraid of guys, and with good reason. However, you'll have to deal with guys and dating sooner or later so why push it off. Do it soon while you're still shy enough about your femininity to be overly modest. If you wait until later, you may find yourself victimized by a slick man. Begin to date boys your own age. They're just as scared and inexperienced as you are. Heather, you know how boys your age think, and it's not with their brains. You know how insecure they are about their masculinity. Learn how to use that insecurity against them. Use your brain and make sure you're in control of the date."
"I think you have the secret for a good date," Leslie agreed. "Boys always want to get into a girl's panties. Yet they are too unsure of themselves to force the issue. If we make the guys think we're attached to them, they'll stop thinking with their brains. When they become too randy, all we need to do is to chop down their manhood a few pegs to make them uncertain and afraid of doing something wrong that could embarrass them. We just have to play a balance game with them."
"Precisely," Dr. Trate replied. "Another thing you could do to begin dating is to pick out guys who are already unsure of their manhood. You might even find a boy or two who would be better off being a girl."
"No boy wants to be a girl," Heather declared. "Unless they were raised as a girl like Leslie."
"In most cases you're right," Dr. Trate stated. "But there are boys who should be girls but don't know it. Heather, you were one of those boys."
"I was not," Heather snapped defensively. "I was all boy. I had never even thought about being a girl until it happened."
"That's exactly what I mean," Dr. Trate affirmed much to Heather's confusion. "You thought you were all boy because you didn't know any different. Now just listen honestly to what I'm about to explain. First, Heather, you are now a beautiful girl, right?"
"Yes," Heather softly replied guiltily.
"Keeping that in mind, compare your physical appearance as a boy and now as a girl," Dr. Trate declared. "If it was so easy to turn you into a beautiful girl, how masculine could you have been to begin with?"
"I guess I didn't look like much of a boy," Heather guiltily confessed.
"Second," Dr. Trate continued. "You have discovered that sex as a girl is far superior to the sex you had as a boy, right?"
Heather blushed deeply and lidded her eyes as she meekly nodded her agreement.
"Third," Dr. Trate went on, "As Heath you were never satisfied with your sexual prowess. You were never sure enough of your masculinity to even try to make a move on Leslie, right?"
Again Heather was forced to agree.
"Fourth," Dr. Trate pressed on. "You had to constantly be on your guard against anything that had the potential to make you look like a sissy, right?"
"Yeah," Heather admitted with growing concern.
"Fifth," Dr. Trate pressed on. "You could not afford to slack off on your ceaseless efforts to prove your masculinity, right?"
"Yeah," Heather agreed. "But..."
"Now lets take those five points together," Dr. Trate cut the girl off. "Physically your masculinity left a lot to be desired if you were so easily changed into a pretty girl. Now add in the fact that sex as a boy was far inferior to sex as a girl. Then consider that you knew your masculine sexuality was questionable or you would have tried to make a move on Leslie. Taken together this proves that your masculinity was never secure, in fact, it was so fragile that you had to constantly struggle to prove and reprove your vaunted manhood. One of your biggest fears was that someone would call you a sissy. Is this all true?"
"Well, yeah," Heather admitted sheepishly. "But I still never wanted to be a girl."
"So you admit you were totally dissatisfied with virtually every aspect of your life as a boy," Dr. Trate triumphantly proclaimed. "Can't you see that your masculinity blinded you to these problems in an effort to save itself?"
"I guess so," Heather gingerly admitted.
"Heather, don't you see what this means," Dr. Trate asked. "Genetically you were a boy. As such you were forced to assume the role of a boy. You thought you were a boy and struggled desperately all your life to be the boy you thought yourself to be. In self defense you blinded yourself to these brutal truths. Now this has not been meant as a put down, this is honest truth, and you agreed it's honest. What all this means is that even when you were Heath, you were more of a girl than you were a boy. You should have been born a girl. Your infection was a blessing in disguise. It forced you to physically become the girl you were meant to be. Think, my sweet young miss, about how quickly you're adapting to girlhood. Could a real boy have become as girlish as you have in five days?"
Heather gasped and sighed as she looked deep into her memories and her past actions. Everything seemed to bear out all that Dr. Trate had pointed out. Her stubborn masculinity had blinded her to the truth about her fraudulent boyhood. "I see what you mean," Heather agreed in obvious shock over the revelation. "I guess I never really was much of a boy. I mean, I knew I was different from the other guys. I always had to work a lot hard to keep up with them. I must have blinded myself to my boyish shortcomings. But should I have been born a girl? I don't know about that. I mean, I know a lot of guys like me... or like I was. If what you're saying is true, that I should have been born a girl, then there are a heck of lot of other guys out there who should have been born girls too."
"That's precisely my point, Heather," Dr. Trate declared triumphantly. "There are a great many boys who should have been born girls. Just as you were, they are blinded to that truth by their desperate boyhood. You lucked out when you developed the infection. In five days you've already discovered that your life will be better as a girl than it could ever have been as a boy. What about those other unhappy boys? You know they're out there, you admitted you recognized them. Shouldn't they have the chance to discover their girlishness? Shouldn't they have the opportunity to break out of their boyish hell where they have to fight to prove their false boyhood? Shouldn't they have the chance to become happy girls like you?"
"Well, yeah, I guess,' Heather admitted confused by Dr. Trate's logic. "But they won't want to become girls because that's exactly the opposite of what they're trying to be. They'd hate becoming girls."
"Just as you did," Dr. Trate reminded Heather. "But also just like you they would quickly discover their true girlishness and learn to love being a soft, pretty girl."
"I guess you're right," Heather conceded. "It just doesn't seem right. Besides, how would you get them to see the truth like I have?"
"That is quite a dilemma," Dr. Trate declared. "But don't we owe it to those poor boys to at least try to reveal the truth? Shouldn't we try to show them a better life as a girl?"
"I suppose so," Heather agreed. "But how would we do it?”
"We discussed this very situation on Friday afternoon," Dr. Trate explained as she concealed her excitement. Heather had asked how WE could do it. This meant she had accepted the logic of converting boys into girls for their own sake. "There are several ways it could be done. Leslie told us that it's so much easier being raised as a girl than it is to change in midstream like you've done, Heather. She suggested that maybe I could isolate the fungal/virus that destroyed your masculinity so I could give it to other boys. I told her that I'd much prefer to have you and her find a way to change those boys into girls. I know that you and Leslie are both very bright young ladies. You also know from first hand experience how much nicer life is as a girl. I'd like to sponsor both of you through a pre-med college curriculum, and on through medical school. Two intelligent and knowledgeable girls such as you will make very capable additions to my practice. It will take at least 14 more years of schooling, but I look forward to having you both as partners in my practice. Just think of the fun you'll have changing unhappy boys into happy sweet girls!"
"I'm not sure about that," Heather stated with obvious reservations.
"Well I'm sure," Leslie declared. "It makes my panties wet just thinking about it!"
"Dr. Trate," Heather began as she blushed at Leslie's ribald remark. "Do you enjoy changing boys into girls?"
"Yes, I do," Dr. Trate affirmed. "I feel I'm doing a public service."
"The other day you said you've transformed a lot of boys into girls. Did most want to be girls," Heather asked.
"Almost none of them," Dr. Trate replied. “Leslie was one of five who wanted to become a girl."
"Did they all have some sort of fungal/virus like me," Heather asked.
"No, most were fairly normal boys when they first came to see me," Dr. Trate confessed. "For one reason or another, they were brought to me because they had behavior problems. It was hoped my hypnotherapy could correct their behavior. I could have done so, but after talking to the mother, or in some cases an aunt or grandmother, I determined the adult had no idea how to raise a boy and longed to raise a girl. The solution was quite obvious. I corrected the boy's behavior by turning him into a sweet girl."
"That's terrible," Heather declared with true horror. "How do you do it," she promptly asked with timid curiosity
"We just finished discussing that quite a few boys should have been born girls," Dr. Trate reminded Heather. "All those I've done fit that category so it can't be horrible if I'm helping them be happier, now can it?"
"I guess not," Heather conceded uneasily.
"As to how I do it, it's quite simple," Dr. Trate continued. "Generally I start with a blood test to see if there are any abnormalities that may account for the bad behavior. Then I use those results to begin a hormonal drug therapy that destroys the male sex and institutes a female puberty. Eventually they become so feminine they can no longer appear as boys. At that point I announce the irreversibility of the condition that caused the derailing of the masculine puberty and the start of the female puberty. I casually add that as the male sex organs atrophy, the decrepit organs will die and become gangrenous. The only way to save the boy's life is to remove the male organs completely, and while I'm at and since no one wants to be sexless, I recommend that I redesign his body to match his feminine puberty. Once they agree to the procedure I suggest they enroll at St. Patrick Parochial School. Mother Superior Erin Murphy and the nuns on the staff are quite cooperative about accepting the special new girls as students. They make sure all the girls behave like proper young ladies."
"I'll vouch for that," Leslie declared.
"What you described sounds almost like what happened to me," Heather exclaimed after a moment. "But what do you do if the blood test comes back okay?"
"I send all my blood samples to a lab that I own," Dr. Trate chuckled. "The test results always come back showing some sort of imbalance."
"Did I really have a fungal/virus infection," Heather asked with deep suspicion.
"It really doesn't matter anymore, does it," Dr. Trate replied with a smug smile of satisfaction.
"No, I guess it doesn't," Heather replied softly. "So what you're saying is that you really do it to boys just because you want to do it."
"Yes," Dr. Trate answered. "My efforts at eradicating juvenile delinquents has come to the attention of several ardent feminist female lawyers, police officers, prosecutors, and judges who handle the legal paperwork needed to change my patients from boys into girls. They like the idea too. They're trying to set up a program with the juvenile courts where troublesome boys would be sent to me for therapy rather than going into conventional juvenile detention. Of course these boys would have to be physically capable of becoming attractive girls and have family's who would be amendable to my treatments of changing the bad boys into good girls, even it would sometimes require a little hypnotherapy. If it takes off, I'll be quite busy. I'll need partners like you and Leslie to help with the practice."
"That sounds like fun, right Heather," Leslie giggled mischievously.
"I don't know," Heather replied. "I'm still not sure it's right to change boys into girls when they don't have to be transformed."
"Don't get so high and mighty just because you're a girl now," Leslie scolded. "You had no qualms about jerking off while you spied on the cheerleaders."
"Okay, okay," Heather blushed. "I get your point."
"I'm glad," Leslie chuckled. "Like I said, it sounds like it can be a lot of fun to change boys into girls when they don't want to do it. But it's a long time until we become doctors. I don't really want to wait that long."
"I think you should tell Heather your idea," Dr. Trate snickered. "If it works out, you and Heather won't have to wait."
Heather's curiosity was peaked. The new girl was all ears as she waited for Leslie to continue.
"Well, I know the nuns at St. Patrick Parochial School get fed up with the antics of some of the boys," Leslie began with mounting excitement. "From what I've gathered since I've been there, each year several boys are enrolled because of behavior problems and their parents or guardians hope the stricter school can help straighten out the boys. I'm pretty sure that since Mother Superior Erin Murphy and the nuns know about and accept what Dr. Trate does to boys, perhaps they could recommend to the concerned parents that the troublesome boys see Dr. Trate for hypnotherapy to help them behave. They already have the boy's records and know the family situation. They could screen the boys for suitability before they send them to Dr. Trate."
"I visited Mother Superior Erin Murphy to discuss Leslie's idea and she sounded quite interested," Dr. Trate stated. "She's definitely looking into the possibility of referring boys to me for counseling treatment and thanks you for the wonderful idea, Leslie."
"It's my pleasure," Leslie exclaimed. "I hope they let Heather and I help pick out the boys!"
"I'm sure Mother Superior Erin Murphy would appreciate your assistance," Dr. Trate stated. "Heather, I also told her about your encounter with the Leprechaun. Now I've met her several times but that was the first time I ever saw her become upset. She was quite shaken by your tale and wants to discuss it with you. I think she actually believes in Leprechauns and that you actually encountered one. I never saw her as anxious and excited about anything as she was about your Leprechaun story, but then again she is Irish."
"It wasn't a tale," Heather declared with a pout obviously upset that no one believed she'd actually encountered a Leprechaun. "It really happened."
"I know you believe it happened," Dr. Trate soothed. "But Leprechauns are simply fairytales. I think your encounter was an extremely vivid dream brought on by your subconscious to give you a reason to explain your failure to function as a male."
"But then what about all the other stuff," Heather exclaimed. "Like my dad getting that job and me going to live with the Balkuts."
"That could have been your subconscious too," Dr. Trate explained. "Heath did want to get into Leslie's panties, so your frustration in your inability to perform as a male twisted your desires."
"Well, I still say it really happened," Heather firmly announced.
"I suppose anything is possible," Leslie declared. "If we could find the Leprechaun it would prove Heather's story. Maybe we could get him to help us change other boys into girls!"
"Since you're really interested in helping change other boys into girls," Dr. Trate began with a mischievous grin. "There is a way you and Heather can help now. As I mentioned earlier there are several feminist lawyers, police officers, prosecutors and judges who are aware of my unusual practice. A few have approached me about the possibility of transforming some boys and men into girls without their cooperation or the complete cooperation of their parents or guardians if they're underage. With you and Heather as ringers, the feminist lawyers have agreed to work hand in hand with me. We should be able to coerce even the most resistant male or, if he's underage, his parent or guardian to agree to my treatment."
"How could that be," Heather asked.
"Simple," Dr. Trate continued with a broad anticipatory grin. "It would require that you and Leslie, two quite virginal and innocent young teenage girls, date those males. We can figure out how they'll meet you on an individual basis. Now we all know what males want when they take a girl out, especially if she is a pretty, feminine, and innocent girl. Knowing this but playing as if you don't, you date them. Because of your supposed juvenile naivete they manage to seduce you. This would mean that you allow them to have their way with you without too much protest and no threats to fix them. You'd have to behave as if you loved doing it, even agreeing to see them again if they ask. As soon as you get home, we rush you to the hospital where you plead date rape. Right now that would be statutory rape, an even more serious crime. We'd make sure the case goes to a sympathetic police officer and a tough feminist prosecutor. They agree to hold off pressing charges if the culprit and, if he's underage, his parents or guardians come to me for hypnotherapy sessions. From there the case would be mine."
"I don't really like the sounds of that," Heather said. "I'm certainly not sure about getting seduced."
"I can help you handle that," Dr. Trate replied.
"That's what I was afraid you'd say," Heather whispered as she shivered with dread. "I don't know if I could handle making out with boys. As far as letting a boy go all the way... I know I'm not ready for that. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for that. As far as adult guys... there's simply no way I could do anything with a man."
"With a bit of hypnotherapy you could do it all," Dr. Trate soothed as she began to induce Heather into a trance.
"Dr. Trate," Leslie stated firmly in a loud voice that promptly disrupted Heather's slide into the trance. "I agree with Heather. I'd like to help trap boys into becoming girls, but not at the expense of my virginity. I'm not as opposed to going all the way with a guy as Heather is, but when I do it, it will be with the guy I intend to marry. If you want Heather and I to join your practice, it has to be as less senior equals, not hypnotized subordinates."
Heather shook her head to dispel the lingering effects of the almost induced trance. With fear clearly evident upon her face she shrank away from Dr. Trate.
"Very well, Leslie, you're right. I'll do it your way," Dr. Trate surrendered. "Heather, I apologize for attempting to hypnotize you. Girl, please understand, changing unwilling boys into girls is such a tremendous turn-on that it sometimes clouds my judgement. It's one of the reasons I've avoided cooperating with the feminist lawyers and police in forcibly changing boys into girls. It was the idea of you two joining me that pushed me over the edge. Please forgive me."
"I understand," Leslie replied. "Maybe we can come up with some way to trap boys without losing our chastity."
"Dr. Trate, you really frightened me," Heather added softly as she relaxed. "I've accepted the fact that there is no way I can ever go back to being a boy. I'm a girl now and I think with a bit more time and with Leslie's friendship I'll be quite happy being a girl. But before I can begin to cooperate with any of your plans I need to know the truth. Did I have a fungal/viral infection?"
Dr. Trate looked steadily into Heather's unflinching eyes for a few moments as she attempted to gauge the depths of the new girl's concerns. Finally she sighed, turned, and sat into a visitor's chair. "Normally I would avoid a direct reply to such a question, but this time I think the truth is needed. You want the truth, here it is."
Heather and Leslie leaned forward s Dr. Trate swallowed and collected herself. "I only became involved in your case the day I first saw you. The symptoms you exhibited were not caused by me and they were not accidental. When Leslie and her mother returned to town, Hillary renewed her friendship with your parents. One of the first things Hillary did was to reveal to your mother the truth about Leslie. Your mother understood why Leslie had been raised as a girl and was quite impressed by Leslie's femininity and grace. It rekindled a long suppressed desire for such a delightful daughter. If you recall, Heather, at that time Heath was in quite a bit of trouble for drugs, smoking, and being a peeping tom. Those troubles made your mother wish that you had been born a girl. Hillary suggested that your mother bring Heath to me after she told her that I had treated Leslie and enjoyed my work. Your mother was shocked and said no, but a seed was planted. As Heath's behavior didn't improve and he made a lovesick fool of himself at Harry Balkut's funeral, she decided to take measures to insure you stopped being such a testosterone-driven chauvinist. She obtained a second prescription of her hormone medication and began giving it to Heath. That daily dose of female hormones was enough to maintain an adult woman at a normal level. You know what it did to Heath's masculine puberty. It totally derailed it and started you into female puberty. As the testosterone faded from your body, you began to settle down which pleased your mother. Naturally, your mother felt guilty for what she was doing, but every time she thought about stopping the female hormones, Heath did something that kept her fearing what would happen when your testosterone came back. She felt trapped, not wanting to continue but afraid to stop. When Heath didn't come home on Halloween, your mother began to panic. Her guilt pushed her to the edge of sanity. When Heath came home and confessed spying on the cheerleaders coupled with his inability to achieve an erection and your budding breasts, she felt justified in giving you the female hormones. It proved to her that Heath was a pervert and by stripping him of his masculinity she could save her child. She called Hillary that morning and confessed all that had happened. Hillary offered to call me to see if I was interested in helping sort things out. Naturally, I was more than interested. I called your mother and after talking to her told her to bring you in to see me. The rest, you already know."
Heather was silent for several moments as she sorted out the wild tale. It all rang brutally true. With her new insights she could fully understand why her mother had done this to her errant son.
"So I didn't have to become a girl," Heather whispered. "The entire thing was my mother's doing."
"Yes," Dr. Trate confirmed. "Just remember our earlier discussion that Heath were never much of a boy and that you should have been born a girl."
"I remember," Heather asked softly. "Does my dad know the truth?"
"No, he thinks you had a fungal/viral infection," Dr. Trate answered.
"This is all quite a bit to digest," Heather stated. "I'll have to let mother know that I know the truth. How she responds will determine how our future relationship will go. Only I don't know how I want her to answer. I'm angry, yet I feel she did the right thing."
"One thing that will help is if you and Leslie help other boys find the relief from their macho grief," Dr. Trate stated. "We will find a way to do it without compromising your integrity or virginity. Do you think you can do that?"
"I might be able to do that," Heather replied. "It does sound exciting. If only there was some way to ease the trauma. That's the worst part."
"I agree," Dr. Trate added. "Unfortunately, it takes such a trauma to force an unwilling boy to split from his macho past."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Heather sighed. "Just don't try to hypnotize Leslie or I without our permission."
"That I can promise," Dr. Trate smiled. "I'm really looking forward to having you two beauties join me."
The ringing of the phone disrupted the happiness of the three as they hugged and giggled like mischievous schoolgirls. Heather answered the phone.
"Mother," she exclaimed. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes and no," Helen answered. "Your father and I arrived safely. We're settling into our lodgings. It's really an old villa from the colonial period. It doesn't have all the modern amenities, but it has enough to be comfortable. There is even a staff of servants living on the property. I have a full time cook, two maids, a gardener, a butler, and a chauffeur. I've never been so pampered in my life. Your father has been at the construction site almost all the time since we arrived. Heather... I... I miss you. How are you doing?"
"I'm doing fine, mother," Heather replied with compassion as she heard the loneliness in her mother's voice. She also sensed another hidden concern. "Dr. Trate just examined me and I'm healing well. Leslie spent the weekend and I'll be going home this afternoon."
"Heather, I love you," Helen gasped as she began to sob. "You know I love you and would never hurt you, don't you darling?"
"Of course I know you love me," Heather responded. "Mother, what's wrong? Why are you crying?"
"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Helen cried. "I never meant to hurt to hurt you. I only did it because I love you."
"I know, mother," Heather answered softly. "I'm not angry anymore. I understand why you changed me into a girl. Even though I've still not completely adapted, I can see that I'll be much happier as a girl then I could ever have been as a boy. Thank you for changing me into your daughter."
"You know what I did," Helen gasped. "How?"
"I'm not a total dummy," Heather explained. "Well, as a boy I guess I was pretty naive, but now that I'm a girl things are clearer. I questioned Leslie and Dr. Trate and found out the truth this morning. I'm a bit upset about how sneaky you were, but I'm glad you did it. Mother, I love you and will always be your loving daughter."
"Oh Heather, you don't know what a relief this is," Helen cried. "Baby, I apologize for being sneaky but I couldn't do it any other way. Thank you for understanding."
"No problem, mother," Heather answered. "I love you."
"I love you too, darling," Helen replied. "I've got to get off the phone but I'll call tomorrow night."
"Okay, mother," Heather answered. "I'll be waiting."
"That sounded like your mother confessed," Dr. Trate stated.
"She did," Heather sighed. "She was really upset. Her conscience must have really been bothering her. I'm satisfied now. I'm really wiped out. Is it all right if I take a short nap?"
"Of course," Dr. Trate replied. "Leslie, would you like to accompany me on my rounds?"
"Sure, if Heather doesn't mind," Leslie answered.
"Go on," Heather laughed. "I can't get any rest when you're around."
Once Heather was alone, she began to think about all that had been revealed. It seemed inconceivable that her mother had really plotted her transformation. Doing something like that just wasn't like her mother. Despite what Dr. Trate said it had to have been the Leprechaun! From what Dr. Trate said, Mother Superior Erin Murphy believed in Leprechauns. Maybe she had once encountered a Leprechaun! If a grown woman in such a position of authority believed in Leprechauns, they just had to be real. The Leprechaun used his magic to make her mother THINK she had done all those things. Dr. Trate, Hillary, Joyce and Leslie were all convenient players in the bizarre scenario. It had to be the subtle Leprechaun magic that changed Heath into Heather. The Leprechaun was feeding upon the boyish anguish and frustration to replenish his life essence. Heather understood that if she could stop the anguish and frustration and accept and enjoy her girlishness fully, the Leprechaun would be left greatly weakened. In order to get back at the rascally devious Leprechaun, she had to enjoy being a girl. This decision gave Heather a greater desire to be as girlishly happy as possible. She looked forward to discussing the Leprechaun with Mother Superior Erin Murphy. With that settled, she dozed off.
Hillary and Joyce arrived at the hospital just before noon. When they arrived in Heather's room, the new girl looked at the suitcase Joyce carried and swallowed. She knew she had to get dressed to go home. That meant dressing as a girl. She hoped for jeans and a sweater but knew she'd most likely be given a skirt. Heather tried to control the butterflies in her tummy. The thought of wearing a skirt was still naturally repulsive. Rationally she knew it wouldn't be too bad. After all, she'd initially had misgivings about donning the pretty night gown she now happily wore. Still, it was another big step in her emergence as a girl. Up until now, everything had occurred in the privacy of her hospital room. Now she would be going out in public. It was quite unnerving.
Hugs were exchanged, then Leslie and Heather were instructed to shower together. Joyce smiled and winked in a most conspirital manner hen she explained the bathing together was simply so that Leslie could make sure Heather didn't have an accident in the shower. The girls didn't argue.
In moments the giggling duo stood naked in the shower. Heather smiled and licked her lips as she drank in Leslie's undeniable femininity. All the curves were in the right places. If she'd still had her male parts, she had little doubt the pair would be standing. Leslie knew what Heather was thinking.
"I'd have liked to have done this a few weeks ago," Leslie sighed as she began to soap Heather's budding breasts. "But we can still have fun!"
Twenty minutes later Joyce knocked on the door. "Are you two any where near done," she asked knowing what was taking so long.
"We're just rinsing off now," Leslie replied as she blew a kiss to Heather.
The girls were sprawled in opposite corners of the three-foot square stall with their legs entwined. Both had tired, well-satisfied grins upon their faces. In moments they turned off the water and staggered out onto the cold tile floor.
"I think we'd better dry ourselves," Heather stated with a giggle. "It'll take too long if we dry each other."
Ten minutes later the impish pair emerged. The lingering grins on their flushed faces were evidence of their delightful shower.
Heather's smile faded as she saw two nearly identical outfits laid out upon her bed. She knew that Leslie would look simply scrumptious in the cute clothes. She bit her lip in anxious anticipation and dread as she imagined herself in the same outfit.
Joyce knew Heather's concerns. With Hillary's help, they began the task of dressing Heather while Leslie acted as a model demonstrating how to properly don each piece. Naturally they began with the underwear which was identical.
First came pink nylon bikini panties with an eighth inch of dainty white lace about the waist and legs. Heather had little problem copying Leslie and soon the skin tight panties were hugging her soft, rounded hips and derriere. Glancing down, Heather noted her smooth groin looked as cute as Leslie's.
Next came matching pink nylon bras. The only difference was that Leslie was a full 'A' while Heather just filled a 'AA'. Leslie demonstrated how to place the cups at the small of the back and hook the strap in front at the tummy. Heather shivered with anxiety. To wear a bra was total submission to her new life as a girl. Looking down at her chest, she could see that she needed to wear a bra, so stilling her nerves, she wrapped the bra about her waist and hooked her bra together.
Leslie spun the bra about her waist so the cups were in front where they belonged. Heather did likewise. Next Leslie slipped her arms in the bra straps, leaned forward, and slipped the straps up her arms onto her shoulders while guiding her breasts into the soft cups of the bra. Heather swallowed and attempted the complicated feat.
As the soft nylon engulfed her budding girlishness, a shiver of pleasure flowed through Heather's body. Following Leslie's lead, she gamely adjusted the fit until her perky breasts were snugly supported by the soft cups. Heather knew that Leslie looked really cute standing before her clad in her panties and bra. Looking down she noted that she was pretty hot herself. A smile of guilt filled Heather's blushing face as she noted the admiring gazes of Hillary, Joyce and Leslie as they surveyed her flowering girlhood.
Next came soft swirling matching half-slips. The pink nylon shimmered as it caught the light. Leslie easily stepped into the slip and wriggled the elastic waist over her hips. The scintillating half-slip ended two inches above her knees.
Heather did the same but almost swooned as the soft nylon whispered across the flesh of her legs as she drew the girlish garment into place. The delicate lace teasingly tickled her creamy white thighs as she fitted the snug waist about her flat tummy.
Leslie then picked up a pair of pale lavender nylon anklets crowned with an inch wide ruffle of matching lace. Sitting on a chair she carefully rolled one anklet into a tube before slipping it over her toes. Carefully she unrolled the tube over her foot and up her ankle. Then she slowly rolled the lace ruffle down and made sure it was equal all about her ankle. She then repeated the procedure with the other anklet and foot.
Heather watched intently, marveling at how the dainty anklet really accentuated Leslie's girlish legs. As she thought about this, she realized that every girl looked cute and prissy when she wore similar anklets. In a moment it was her turn. She sat on the chair and attempted to roll her pale pink nylon anklets crowned with an inch wide ruffle of matching lace into a tube. She quickly discovered it wasn't as easy as Leslie had made it look. After several aborted attempts, she succeeded. In moments, the feminine anklets graced her ankles. A thrill of excitement swept through her as she realized that the dainty anklets made her legs appear just as girlishly prissy as Leslie's legs.
Then came swirling elastic waist perma-prest cotton skirts with one inch knife pleats. Leslie's was a vibrant lavender while Heather's was a vibrant pink. Since Heather had expected to step into the skirt she was surprised when Leslie lifted the skirt up and slipped it over her head. Heather watched in amazement. By the time Leslie was tugging the skirt into place about her waist, the loose swirling skirt had settled over her half-slip. The pleated hem ended level with the lace hem of the half-slip so that the delicate lace was tantalizingly revealed as the pleated skirt swirled with every movement. Heather followed suit and soon had the neat skirt in place about her slender waist. The constant swirling of the skirt accentuated the sensuousness of the half-slip as it kissed her flesh. Once she had the skirt on, Heather understood that it would be almost impossible to step into the narrow waisted skirt without snagging the half-slip.
Next came soft fuzzy angora wool sweaters. Leslie's was pale lavender while Heather's was a pale pink. Heather needed little instruction for this. The girls smiled and quickly pulled the soft sweaters over their heads. The loose sleeves ended at mid-wrist with simple hem cuffs. An equally simple hem outlined the V-neck. The sweater itself was snug and hugged their torsos revealing all the feminine curves of their perky breasts. After noticing the clearly outlined mounds upon Leslie's chest, Heather blushed when she glanced down to see that her breasts were also clearly outlined.
The last thing were girlish saddle shoes. Leslie's saddle was a vibrant lavender while Heather's was a vibrant pink. Heather easily mimicked Leslie in donning the quintessentially girlish shoes. The feminine shoes added greatly to the prissy girlishness of the outfits.
Heather wanted to look in the mirror but Hillary stopped her. "Have patience, girl. You'll have plenty of opportunity to see how cute you appear. First we have to add some jewelry and fix your hair."
Heather shivered with excitement as Joyce fit a delicate gold necklace about her throat. It was only the light glinting off the shiny metal that made the fine chin barely visible. A half inch golden heart with a small zirconia stone in the center rested upon Heather's flesh to accentuate the V-neck of her fuzzy sweater. A delicate gold watch wrapped about her right wrist. A gold charm bracelet with tiny kittens adorned her left wrist. A pair of gold studs, a pair of zirconia studs, and a pair of half inch hoops were placed in her triple pierced ears.
Once all the jewelry was in place, Joyce showed Heather how to style her fiery red hair. The first step was to form the wispy softly curled bangs that covered her forehead down to her delicate eyebrows. After a thorough brushing, the rest of her shoulder length locks were pulled back to create a single bouncy ponytail high atop the back of her head and secure it in place with a hair tie. The tie was then covered with a length of inch wide vibrant pink satin ribbon tied into a perky bow.
The final touch was a manicure which ended with painting her finger nails a vibrant pink. By this time Heather was getting quite anxious to see herself. While the finishing touches were being added to her appearance, she could see Leslie being similarly adorned. Heather could see that Leslie looked totally awesome. The new girl hoped she looked half as cute as her best friend.
Leslie took Heather's hand and smiled as Hillary and Joyce opened the closet door to reveal a full length mirror. Leslie stepped before the mirror pulling Heather along. The girls gazed into the mirror as the flash from a camera lit up the room. Hillary had taken a photo of the pretty girls to send to Heather's parents so they could see what a pretty daughter they had and to see her first girlish outfit.
Heather gasped as she saw the cute girls in the mirror. One she instantly recognized as Leslie. She knew the equally cute second girl was herself but found her transformation difficult to believe. Peering closely at her reflection, Heather could see a sisterly resemblance to her former image as Heath. No matter how intently she gazed, she could not detect even the slightest hint of boyishness in her all so girlish image.
It was a tense moment as the others held their breath. They hoped Heather's reaction to her girlishness would signal complete acceptance of her new role in life. They breathed a sigh of relief when the amazement upon Heather's face changed into a smile.
Half an hour later, pushed by a nurse and accompanied by Joyce and Leslie, Heather emerged from the hospital in a wheel chair. Heather carried a small shoulder bag and wore a pink jacket to keep her warm in the fifty-degree November weather. Hillary, who had gone ahead to bring her car to the discharge door, waited by the vehicle. After the nurse locked the wheels and swung away the foot rests, Heather stood and walked the short distance to the car. The wind made her skirt rustle softly as she walked. The experience of the skirt and lacy slip fluttering against her thighs felt quite nice and exciting. This was simply another of the many things that made her quite aware of her new girlishness.
As Heather ducked to enter the car head first in the same manner she'd used when she had been a boy a slight breeze gently billowed her skirt and slip. The cool air on her panties made her quickly aware that girls in skirts didn't enter a car the same way carefree jeans clad boys get into a car. As she abruptly stood up, both hands quickly moved to her backside to keep her skirt down. Her face turned bright red as she recalled seeing skirted girls entering a car. At those times Heath hadn't really paid attention other than to impatiently wonder what took girls so long to get into a car. Now she knew. If it hadn't been for Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie forming a protective screen with their bodies, she'd have exposed her panties!
Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie were smiling. "Now you've discovered that it is necessary to enter a car in a ladylike manner when wearing a skirt," Joyce commented in a kindly manner. "Leslie, will you please demonstrate the proper manner of entering a car?"
"Of course," Leslie replied as she proceeded to show the proper technique. "First a girl stands by the door with her derriere facing the open door. Then she smooths her skirt with one hand to make sure there are no wrinkles. She keeps her hand on the skirt at the back of her thigh just above the knee to hold the skirt down. Then she dips her knees while leaning backwards into the car until she's seated. Then she holds her skirts down as much as possible while maneuvering into her seat position. At this point she once more smooths her skirt over her backside and thighs to insure there are no wrinkles. Lastly she tugs her skirt down to cover as much of her legs as possible."
Heather instantly recognized the proper procedure for a skirted girl to enter a car as one Heath had witnessed many times. But at those times Heath had been a rascally boy hoping to catch a glimpse of the girl's panties and had not really paid attention to her actions as his interests had been focused on more impish notions. Now that Heather had paid attention to the manner in which a girl entered a car, she realized that Heath had been wasting his time. There was simply no way a skirted girl, taking her time, would ever reveal her panties if she followed the procedure Leslie had demonstrated. Paying attention to the details, Heather was easily able to mimic Leslie's actions.
The others praised Heather for her quick learning. In moments, the four were seated in the car and pulling out onto the street. Seated in the back seat, Leslie and Heather held hands. Both as best girl friends and to calm Heather's jittery nerves.
Heather wondered how many other seemingly mundane everyday activities were performed so differently between boys and girls. She was well acquainted with the way boys did things, but if the simple act of entering a car was so different with such embarrassing consequences, what other humiliating faux pas awaited her? She would soon find out.
Hillary pulled into the parking lot of the best restaurant in town. "I thought we'd treat you to a birthday meal," Hillary explained. "Even though it's not your birthday, it is your first time out as a girl, so we'll treat today as your girlish birthday."
Heather watched closely as Leslie exited the car. Basically it was the reverse of entering. But this too was different from the way a boy exited. Once more Heather was able to carefully copy Leslie. The others wore broad smiles to see that Heather was so aware and serious about becoming a proper young miss. Heather smiled and took Leslie's offered hand. The girl friends squeezed hands in reassurance of a job well done as they crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk. Unfortunately, things would not continue to go so smoothly.
As the group rounded the corner of the building, a mischievous gust of wind whooshed through their midst. Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie instinctively placed a hand on their skirt to hold it modestly in place as the breeze playfully tossed their skirts. In her newness to girlhood, Heather did not have that protective instinct. The rascally wind swooped beneath Heather's skirt and slip, abruptly tossed the girlish garments about, and as if sensing it had encountered a novice girl, teasingly fluttered her skirt and slip above her waist. Naturally, her pretty pink panties were clearly revealed.
Heather squealed, released Leslie's hand, and danced frantically about while flailing at her errant skirts in an effort to restore her modesty. The skirts were quickly subdued and Heather firmly tugged the hem of her skirt down. Surprised and out of breath, she fearfully looked at her companions to see if they were laughing at her. Much to her relief, they were not. In fact, all had serious expressions upon their concerned faces as they surrounded Heather to assist her.
Derogatory laughter made Heather turn. On the sidewalk about ten feet behind them were a mother and father walking behind their two sons who appeared to be about 14 and 15. The boys were laughing and pointing at Heather. The father was smiling and chuckling as he too looked at Heather. It was quite obvious the three males had enjoyed the show. It was also obvious the woman had not enjoyed it, nor was she happy with the reaction of her sons and husband. Of course, she never for a moment considered blaming Heather. The poor girl was simply an innocent victim. The scowling mother quickly slapped the boys on the back of the head. "Alec and James," she snapped. "Mind your manners." The boys stopped pointing and laughing, but their leering smiles remained. The husband instantly got the message and sobered.
Heather turned as red as a beet. It was quite obvious the family had clearly seen her pantied bottom. Tears of humiliation and self-anger filled her eyes. Too embarrassed to continue into the restaurant, she bowed her head in shame and minced to the edge of the walk to let the family pass. Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie did the same.
As the family passed by, Heather heard the boys snicker. They had gotten a cheap thrill. If they were anything like Heath had been, they would probably recall Heather's pantied backside and fantasize about more of her blossoming body as they lay in bed that night and played with themselves. This sent a shiver of regret down Heather's spine. How many times had Heath laughed at a girl when he had seen the wind toss the girl's skirt to reveal her panties? How many times had he or his buddies back in grade school preyed upon unsuspecting girls in an effort to flip the poor girl's skirt to reveal her panties? How many times had he used the sight of a girl's unintentionally exposed panty-clad backside as a basis for a masturbatory fantasy? Back then when he was a boy it had all seemed like a grand adventure. Now that she was a girl and the shoe was on the other foot, she knew it for the cruelty that such incidents really engendered. The guilt of Heath's past misdeeds coupled with Heather's present humiliation, anger, and frustration caused the new girl to break down in sobs as her tears freely flowed.
Hillary, Joyce, and Leslie understood Heather's grief. They surrounded and hugged the crying girl, soothing her until the tears ceased. Taking a tissue from her purse, Joyce carefully dabbed away Heather's tears and waterlogged eyes. Another tissue was supplied so she could blow her nose. No words were needed. Heather understood that they had all experienced similar humiliation. Having a skirt flipped to reveal panties was one of the crosses a girl had to bear. The shared experience served to make the bond of sisterhood between women strong.
Meanwhile the family that had witnessed Heather's losing encounter with the wind had been seated inside the restaurant. The woman was seething. The boys were nervous, awaiting the coming tirade. The husband hoped against hope his shrewish wife would simply let the matter drop.
"You three are absolutely disgusting," Grace Henry indignantly declared. "I'm sorry to even admit that you heathens are my sons. The ingrate behind them is my husband Richard, you KNOW better. You should have admonished the boys, but no, you had to laugh too! That poor sweet girl. Just imagine how embarrassed she feels. It was bad enough that the wind tricked her, but your laughter was horribly cruel. There is simply no excuse for your rude and crude behavior! I feel compelled to apologize poor girl"
The red-faced boys shuffled their feet as their mother harangued them. Their heads were lowered with their eyes glued to the table. The expressions on their faces were ones of dejection and humiliation. They sat at the table like doomed prisoners awaiting the executioner's noose.
"We're sorry," Alec finally mumbled.
"That is totally unacceptable," Grace intoned with a hiss. "But I'll guarantee that you WILL be sorry!"
"Grace, darling," Richard began in as conciliatory a voice as he could manage. "They were only being boys. They don't know any better. It's my fault. I'm responsible. I should have known better and set a proper example for my boys. It's my fault they were so crude. Please, don't blame them, blame me."
"You're a sorry excuse for a man," Grace stated in a belittling tone. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. But you are right. You do set a bad example for the boys. I'll have to do something about that. As for your pathetic excuse that they're only being boys, that's a crock. Boys who are only being boys grow up to be men like you! Maybe I should just throw you out on your ear. Then I should pack the boys off to a military academy where they'll be whipped into shape."
The three males cowered before the woman's wrath. They all thought back to the time six months ago, before she'd inherited a fifty million-dollar fortune from her man-hating aunt. Before then shed been an unassuming submissive wife and mother who catered to the men in her life. Since then, things had changed greatly. According to the will, only Grace could control the estate, and then only after she took an intensive two week crash course on finances. As required by the will, the family had to move into the aunt's lavish estate complete with servants while Grace went to a private institute to take her course. Before his wife returned, Richard became enchanted with his new luxurious lifestyle. Realizing the wealth was truly theirs, he walked into his employer and told him to shove his job where the sun doesn't shine. By the time Grace joined her family in the lap of luxury, Richard, Alec, and James had become spoiled louts who took joy in abusing the help.
Grace was a changed, empowered woman when she returned to her family. Gone was the meek mother and wife In her place was a worldly woman capable of handling her fortune. The males quickly discovered she was not longer a pushover. Richard did not get the Ferrari he'd wanted. The boys didn't get the video games they'd wanted. They made do with what they had. In addition, Grace was furious Richard had quit his job. No work, no money, became her motto. All credit cards were torn up and the accounts closed. The joint savings and checking accounts were emptied and closed. She told him since they were joint accounts, half the money was his. Grace kept half the cash and gave the other half to Richard to do with as he pleased. Then she informed them that neither Richard nor the boys would receive an allowance. Anything they wanted, if it wasn't freely available on the estate, they had to ask Grace to get it. Their lives steadily became fully dependent upon Grace's stingy largesse.
By now, Richard was down to his last three hundred dollars. The boys had no money. They had no jobs and no where to turn. They were trapped and at Grace's mercy. They all knew that fact, and Grace used it to force them to do what she wanted.
"When we're done eating," Grace closed the lecture. "We'll go over to that poor girl and publicly apologize. Each of you will ask for her forgiveness. I suggest you be extremely sincere, because I'll make sure you're each mighty sorry if she doesn't accept your apologies."
The rest of their meal was eaten in silence. When they finished, Grace had the bill put on her account. "Richard, leave an appropriate tip," Grace ordered as she stood. "You will also fully pay their tab as punishment for your gross misconduct."
The tip for their bill would come to forty dollars! That only left him with $260.00. That might not be enough to pay their bill! Fear and a growing terror gripped his heart. Richard opened his mouth to protest. But a withering glare from Grace forced him to meekly bow to her demands. Tears threatened to come to his eyes as he pulled the cash from his wallet. Then he hurried to catch up to Grace and the boys as they headed for the table where the young girl sat with her family.
Once Heather had fully recovered from her humiliating ordeal, Hillary led the small group as they entered the restaurant. The Maitre'd checked the register for the reservation Hillary had made. In moments, the four were following the tuxedo clad man into the elegant dining room. Heather almost committed another faux pas as they arrived at their table but caught Leslie's subtle motions to indicate patience. As Heather waited and watched, the Maitre'd pulled out a chair for Hillary. Hillary sat, and the man slid the chair into place. Heather had seen such courtesy in movies and had seen the Maitre'd do the same for her mother the few times her family had dined here. It dawned on her that since she was now a girl, such courtesy was to be expected.
Heather watched closely and waited as Joyce and Leslie were seated. When her turn came, she was able to gracefully mimic the others. Once seated, the Maitre'd handed them menus and explained the daily specials and soups du-jour. Heather felt a warm inner glow as the recipient of such impeccable manners. A smile filled her face as she decided that being a girl was going to be quite nice.
Joyce quietly reminded Heather that she was now a proper young lady and as such had to watch what she ate. Small portions were important to maintain a proper weight. Taking small bites and chewing thoroughly before swallowing were also expected to become new habits. Polite conversation during the meal was expected, but one was never to speak with food in her mouth. An accessible napkin was mandatory to often daintily dab ones lips during the meal.
The lessons were not difficult, especially since the others at the table already practiced the manners. Since she took smaller bites and chewed each thoroughly before swallowing Heather discovered the food was delicious. Subtle flavors and rich textures she'd missed when wolfing down food as a boy were now clearly revealed. Dining as a proper young miss was clearly going to be a tasty delight.
The meal ended with a birthday cake. The Maitre'd accompanied the waiter. The cherry vanilla flavored pink cake was covered with light pink icing with hot pink accents. Fourteen pink candles were flickering as the cake was presented.
"Make a wish," Leslie exclaimed as the cake sat before Heather.
Heather smiled. It had been several years since Heath had made a wish while blowing out candles. As a boy he had felt such an act was the mark of a little child or a sissy. Now that was no longer a concern. Making a wish was acceptable and expected of a girl. Again she thought how pleasant life was going to be as a girl. Never again would she have to worry about being a sissy. As a girl she was freed from that onerus burden. Biting her lip she frowned with deep thought as she sought a suitable first wish.
After a few moments of deep thought her face brightened. She recalled that the Leprechaun had always spoken in a nine beat rhyme. Perhaps for wishes to work they had to be pronounced in a similar pattern. Look at that old nursery rhyme wish:
Star light, Star bright the very first star I see tonight;
I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.
Most nursery rhymes were based on facts, no matter how obscure. Maybe the origin of this wish rhyme recalled the need to rhyme but forgot the eleven-beat pattern. Since the leprechaun had spoken his wish, for wishes to come true they had to be spoken! Yet people believed that to tell someone your birthday wish would negate it. That had to be a falsehood put into popular mysticism to keep the wishes from happening. Maybe that's why it never worked. With this insight Heather knew exactly what she wanted to wish for. She began to speak softly so those around the table could hear her.
"I wish the Leprechaun, who a girl me changed;
meet Mother Superior Murphy, arranged!
Then she'll believe my magical sex-change tale;
there is more to this wish, sent through ether mail.
On unhappy inhibited males, tragic;
force Leprechaun O'Shea to use his magic.
Transform those poor boys into sweet happy girls;
who live out their lives in soft satin and curls.
As Mother Superior Erin Murphy;
and/or I wish it, so be nature's decree!"
Then she sucked in a breath of air and blew out all the candles. At that instant, a few miles away, snug in his hobbit-like burrow, the dozing weakened Leprechaun snapped awake. Someone had cast a magic spell about him! Closing his eyes, he concentrated upon the magic, following the magical eddies through the ether to its source. There he saw a happy smiling pretty human girl surrounded by other smiling happy pretty humans. That didn't make any sense. Humans were non-magical beings. They couldn't cast magic spells. After a few moments of confusion, recognition dawned upon him. The pretty girl wasn't really a girl at all! She was Heather, formerly Heath. She should be sulking in horror and frustration at being changed into a girl. Yet he could see the happy girl was undeniably pretty and with the people he'd wished her to be with. A frown crossed his face. She had grown to like her girlhood too quickly. The boyish anguish and frustration he'd expected to feed upon to strengthen and renew his life essence had not been enough. No wonder he was still so weak. But there was even worse to come. Normally a human's wish carried virtually no magical strength and came to naught. However Heather was still heavily immersed in the magic he'd cast to grant Heath's three wishes. Since she'd accepted her girlishness so quickly without the amount of anguish and frustration he'd expected, there remained about her a powerful amount of unused magic... his magic! Even so, in similar cases, a human wish would normally fizzle and burn up the lingering magic since it needed a magical being to focus the magic power to make the wish come true. Since her ersatz birthday wish concerned him, Heather had unwittingly tapped into that magic and had sent it spiraling back to him! Normally, a Leprechaun could resist magic directed against him, but in his weakened state and since the magic had originally been his, her wish became a quest upon him. He shivered as he felt her wish become a compulsion that he would have to continually fulfill. Much to his amazement, the wish also restored his full life essence. Apparently Mother Gia had approved the wish as it spiraled through the ether to him and had added to the wish. As he stretched his renewed senses, he realized that cooperating with Heather's wish would not deplete his precious life essence. As long as he used his magic to transform unhappy inhibited males into sweet happy girls, he had virtually unlimited powers! He had pretty Heather to thank for this. He was now the most powerful Leprechaun alive... as long as he did as Heather and Mother Superior Erin Murphy ordered.
That bothered him quite a bit, but he realized that he had no choice in this matter. Mother Gia had warned him about messing with a human's gender back when he'd twisted 13 year old Eric Murphy's three wishes forty years ago to force that teenage boy into a feminine life. Briefly he wondered what had ever become of that transformed lad. Immediately he knew! How bizarre life was! Heather had commanded him to reveal himself to Mother Superior Murphy to not only verify the veracity of her tale about encountering a Leprechaun, but to also allow her to wish boys into girls! Mother Superior Erin Murphy had been born Eric Murphy! She was the boy whose three wishes he had twisted forty years ago!
Meanwhile back at the restaurant, Leslie smiled and said, "I hope your wish comes true."
"I hope so too," Joyce added.
"I'm sure Mother Superior Erin Murphy will be delighted if your wish comes true," Hillary chuckled. "I can see her really getting into Leprechauns and things like that."
The cake was delicious. It didn't take long for the dessert to disappear. As they finished off the last morsel, the mother who had admonished her sons for laughing when the wind had tossed Heather's skirt approached the table with the two very red faced boys firmly in tow. The father sheepishly followed.
"Please excuse us for interrupting," the woman began in a very apologetic tone. "I'm Grace Henry. I'm sorry to say that these two heathens are my sons Alec and James. The ingrate behind them is my husband Richard. I feel compelled to apologize for their crude behavior, especially since it's your birthday. Boys!"
The red-faced boys shuffled forward. It was more than obvious they had received a royal butt chewing. Their heads were lowered with their eyes glued to the floor. The expressions on their faces was one of dejection and humiliation. They stood before the table beside Heather's chair like doomed prisoners awaiting the executioner's noose.
"We're sorry," Alec mumbled after a nudge from his mother.
"That was totally unacceptable," Grace intoned with an acid tongue as everyone in the immediate area watched. "Look at the young lady and speak clearly."
Alec swallowed what little remained of his pride and slowly raised his face to peer at Heather. It was clear he was being forced into this apology. "I'm sorry that I was so rude to you outside. Please forgive me."
James promptly followed suit. As he took his turn, he shivered with fear and apprehension. "I'm sorry that I was so rude to you outside. Please forgive me."
The boys stood before Heather like whipped puppies. Heather knew their humiliation and that things would not be easy for them the next few days. With the knowledge of her boyish past she pitied the macho duo. With the growing pleasure in her girlhood she thrilled to have such cowed boys before her, awaiting her judgement. It gave her a sense of great power. "I'll accept your apology if you also promise to be more considerate of girls in the future. Perhaps you wouldn't be so hasty to laugh if you knew what it was like to wear a dress."
The boys looked aghast. The mere idea that they might wear a dress made them quake with abject terror. They knew their mother, now that she'd heard the insane suggestion, would not pass up using such a golden opportunity to further humble them.
The mother looked thoughtful. "I think the young lady is being quite reasonable," Grace intoned. "Her suggestion has a great deal of merit. I'll give the subject my full consideration. Now, boys, you heard the young lady. What do you have to say?"
With no hesitation both lads complied. "I promise to be more considerate of girls in the future," they exclaimed in unison. It was clear that they meant every word... at least for the time being. They were now quite desperate to please their mother in the hope that she would not consider Heather's suggestion they experience wearing a dress.
"Richard," Grace announced.
The boys quicky slipped behind their mother to allow their father to come forward. The red faced man looked totally whipped. "Miss, please accept my apology for chuckling at your misfortune," he began in a contrite voice. "I should have known better and set a proper example for my boys. It's my fault they were so crude. Please, don't blame them, blame me."
It was clear that the man was quite pussy whipped. "I'll accept your apology," Heather replied. "Chauvinism is a thing of the past and should be promptly destroyed every time it rears it's ugly head."
"Indeed," Hillary joined in. "Grace, I thank you for coming over to apologize. It takes a strong woman to control three males. I admire that strength. Let me introduce myself. I'm Hillary Balkut. This young lady is my daughter Leslie Balkut. The young miss is my ward, Heather Lynne Reilly. This is the girls' governess, Joyce Moore."
"We're pleased to meet you," Grace replied as the males fidgeted uncomfortably. "If I may be so forward, perhaps you would consent to meeting under more appropriate circumstances. I'm sure my boys would benefit greatly from the influence of two such sweet, proper young ladies."
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Hillary agreed. "I know the girls will look forward to meeting your boys under better circumstances. Perhaps next Saturday, if you're free, you could join us for a formal English Tea about 3:30 p.m.?"
"We'd be delighted," Grace enthused as the boys quailed.
"But Mom," Alec whined. "Saturday is the big game between Penn State and Michigan. It'll be the best game of the season."
"Well that's just too bad," Grace intoned in a sickeningly sweet voice. "You should have thought of the consequences when you were so rude to this nice young miss. Richard!"
The boys visibly wilted. The prospect of being forced to wear a dress seemed to loom before them. They both quailed at the very concept.
"Yes, we'd be delighted to join you," the beaten man replied quickly in response to his wife's curtness. "Please, let me pick up the tab for your luncheon as a token of our apology and as a birthday present for the young lady."
"I normally don't allow such things," Hillary replied as she looked at Grace who was nodding her head. "But under the circumstances, I don't see how I could refuse."
Grace and Hillary exchanged telephone numbers and addresses while Richard took care of the bill. The poor man turned white when he saw the total. After paying the bill plus tip, he'd only have ten dollars remaining in his wallet. Heather's wind tossed skirt cost the man $250.00. But that was cheap compared to what costs awaited.
Once they had returned to their car, Hillary began to laugh. "If your wish about the Leprechaun comes true, I think Alec and James might qualify for your first transformations. Perhaps even their father, I'm sure Dr. Trate would love to create another girl like Candi."
They all chuckled. Heather felt a twinge of guilt as she thought about possibly seeing Alec and James join her in skirts. But it was nothing compared to the elation she felt in her newfound power of femininity.
By Monday morning Heath, despite the tranquilizers and sedatives, was quite distraught over the prospect of becoming a girl. Every time someone entered his room he began crying and begging them to help him escape. "Please help me. I don't want to be turned into a girl," he cried plaintively.
The nursing staff had been informed of Heath's fungal/virus infection and the radical treatment that was going to be used to eliminate it. Dr. Trate's reputation was such that no one questioned her diagnosis, especially as she was taking a risk by delaying the surgery until she received confirmation by the lab that her conclusion was correct. Little did anyone know that Dr. Trate owned the lab and that the results would confirm her diagnosis. The nurses simply tried to comfort Heath and waited.
Dr. Trate met with Fred and Helen just after noon. She showed them the lab report which confirmed her diagnosis. Fred numbly signed the release forms. Helen barely controlled her rush of anticipation. Within a few hours her problem son would be her darling daughter.
Moments later Heath looked up as Dr. Trate entered his room. "Did you get the results," he whispered hoping beyond hope to avoid his girlish fate.
"Yes," Dr. Trate smiled as she slipped a syringe into the IV and flooded the narrow tube with a powerful sedative that would knock Heath out in a few seconds.
Heath felt a warm rush flood through his body as his eyes suddenly grew heavy. Valiantly he fought to stay conscious, to somehow struggle to save his manhood. Yet everything began to turn grey. As everything went black the last thing he saw was Dr. Trate's smiling face. The last thing he felt before losing all tactile sensation was Dr. Trate tenderly mopping his sweating brow. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was Dr. Trate softly say "You're going to go to sleep. When you wake up you'll be a very pretty teenage girl."
The surgery was quite successful. The flesh covering Heath's male genitalia was deftly cut open so that the soft inner tissues could be removed. The main nerve bundle that provides the tip of the penis with such exquisite sensitivity was saved. A small amount of the fleshy erectile tissue was also saved as was the urethra. The skin of the penis was sewn back together, turned in upon itself to form a flesh-lined tube, and inserted into his body to serve as a vagina. The prostate gland was retained but the tube that ducts the seminal fluid to the testicles to pick up sperm was rerouted to attach at the closed deep end of the newly created vagina. The seminal fluid would act to keep the flesh from growing together and also serve as a natural lubricant for intercourse. The urethra was shortened and relocated to simulate a normal female urinary opening. The salvaged bundle of nerves was attached to the remodeled urethra and padded by the salvaged erectile tissue to form what would become a highly sensitive and quite functional clitoris once healed. Then the excess flesh of his scrotum was refashioned to form the fleshy folds and lips typical on the exterior of female genitalia.
Dr. Trate also did some plastic surgery on Heath's face. First she gave him higher cheeks and added just a hint of permanent blush to give him a rosy cherubic appearance. She shaved his Adam's apple and rounded his chin. Then she set to work on his nose, turning it into a quintessentially girlish cute upturned button nose. Next she pinned his ears back and triple pierced them. One by one she permanently implanted long thick lashes into his eyes and added just enough permanent eye liner to highlight his eyes without looking obviously made up. A bit of electrolysis was used to give him permanently arched delicate girlish eyebrows. Finally a permanent soft baby pink color was used to give him innocent girlishly pouty lips.
Once the genital reconstruction was completed, an electrolysist reshaped his boyish pubic hair into dainty heart-shaped girlishness. The last thing Dr. Trate did was to go over Heath's entire body to carefully remove any traces of scarring that had resulted from his rough boyish life. Once all the surgery was completed, Heath was kept sedated to allow the wounds a few days to begin the healing process undisturbed by movement.
During the next few days Fred was busily tying up loose ends at the office, signing a rental management contract for the long term rental of their home, and making financial arrangements with the bank. Hillary had the company lawyers put a legal name and gender change through the courts so that the boy, Heath Lee Reilly, ceased to exist while a girl, Heather Lynne Reilly, came into existence. The lawyers also drew up a long term temporary custody agreement so that she could properly raise Heather while Fred and Helen were in Africa. Helen, assisted by Joyce, began packing what she and Fred wanted to take with them to Africa. Joyce, with her insight in raising a girl and knowing how she intended to reeducate Heather, was a great help when it came to deciding what Heather might want from her former possessions. The remained of the possessions were divided into items for long term storage, donation to charity, or to remain as furnishings for the new occupants.
With all these quite hectic activities, coupled with regular inquiries on Heather's status, the next few days flew by. On Thursday morning Dr. Trate decided that Heather had healed enough to allow her to regain consciousness. The sedatives were discontinued in Heather's IV.
It was late Thursday afternoon when Heath awoke. His mouth felt as dry as a desert. As tactile sensations returned, he sensed that his face was swathed in bandages. His nose had a steady dull ache. An even duller pain emanated from between his legs. As he tried to move, he discovered he was quite thoroughly tied down. Panic engulfed him as full consciousness returned. Nurses bustled about his bed, checking his pulse and other things. All softly cooed to him and tried to sooth him.
"You're doing fine, Heather." "Everything will work out for the best, darling." "We understand how you feel, being forcibly transformed into a girl, but there really was no other choice. Just give it a chance and you'll love being a pretty girl." "Dr. Trate is the best surgeon in town and she took special care of you so you'll be the cutest girl in town." "I'm sure you'll be delighted with how pretty Dr. Trate has made you."
With these mental prods he recalled why he was in the hospital. A shiver of terror and dread swept his restrained body.
Memories of his encounter with the Leprechaun leap into his mind. The little man's last words burned into his consciousness:
"Boys seek to catch Leprechauns for wishes three;
will young boys learn not to mess with folks wee?
Whenever they catch us we twist their desire;
those aggressive boys never children will sire!
Thanks to me Heath Reilly will soon be no more;
another pesky boy, I've silenced his roar.
As a lover he wanted many a girl;
Now it's him whom before boys his skirts will swirl!
Heather Reilly's beauty will make boys' knees weak;
many boys his girlish affection will seek.
I know you can hear me in your oak bower;
know, lad, your wishes have been granted this hour."
Tears of frustration filled his eyes as he knew that the Leprechaun's curse had been fulfilled. With this he also recalled the last thing Dr. Trate had told him.
"Oh God, they did it," his mind cried out. "They operated on me and turned me into a girl! No! No! No!"
The mental anguish and anger lasted about twenty minutes. Once the fury had wasted itself, he began to cry softly. The nurses did all they could to ease his suffering.
By Thursday evening Heath was able to sit up in bed. The bandages were still in place and a catheter took care of nature's call. Helen, Fred, Leslie, Hillary, Joyce, and Dr. Trate were with the morose former lad.
"We'll stop in to say goodbye in the morning before we leave," Helen whispered as she blinked back tears. All the effort she'd expended to create her daughter and now she had to leave her behind.
"We'll call every day until you're discharged," Fred promised. “Then once a week after you're home. We'll be in our new home within a few days. We'll give you the phone number as soon as we get it so you can call us anytime you want. We'll set up an e-mail account so we can communicate on line."
"We'll have loads of fun living together, Heather," Leslie gushed. "I can't wait to get you home so you can try on some of my yummy outfits!"
"You'll have nothing to fear, young lady," Joyce soothed. "As your nanny I'll make sure no one hassles you in any way. Anyone who dares tease or torment you will have to answer to me."
"I'll be your legal guardian, sweet Heather," Hillary informed him. "While your parents are away, I'll see to it that you're pampered and spoiled."
"Heather, it will not do you any good to mope about your lost masculinity," Dr. Trate stated bluntly. "You know perfectly well why we had to perform the surgery. It's perfectly understandable that you would like to have someone to blame for your situation but you know there is no one to blame for what happened except yourself. The only extenuating circumstance that can excuse your actions is that they were in fact dictated by your raging testosterone. It's often been said that teenage boys think more with their sex organs than their brains. That often is quite true and doubly true in this situation. What has happened to you is because you allowed your testosterone-fed libido over rule your good judgement. Many boys on testosterone highs kill themselves in car crashes or get messed up on drugs. You know I'm right because you were doing drugs. You rode your bike like a hellion. You would have driven a car the same way. All because of the testosterone macho need to constantly prove your masculinity. Fortunately the only way we could save your life was also the solution to the testosterone dilemma. You will never again have to worry about thinking with your sex organs. The surgery I performed has effectively seen to it that something like this will never happen to you again. Testosterone will never again make you do something you normally would not do. You are quite lucky. You are also now a completely functional girl. There are no if's. There are no but's. There is only facts. Those facts are that you are no longer a boy. You can never again be a boy. You are a girl. I've seen to it that you will be a very pretty girl. You will live the rest of your life as a girl. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to change those facts. So you have two choices. You can wallow in self-pity and waste away or you can grasp hold of the golden ring life has offered you. Grab hold of your new girlishness! Learn to enjoy being a girl! Get on with your life!"
Heath bit his lips and quivered with fear. All his life he'd looked upon girls as objects for derision. He had delighted in picking on girls, sometimes mischievously flipping their skirts. Once he'd entered puberty that changed to trying to peek under their skirts and having sexual fantasies about girls. But always they had seemed less than equal, almost as if girls had been put on the earth to serve as toys for boys. Now he was no longer a boy. He was a girl. Unwillingly he had changed sides in the war of the sexes. Now he would be sought after by other boys. He would be the object of the sexual fantasies of other boys. How could he be expected to handle that?
"Even though you are now a girl I'll speak to you one last time as a boy," Dr. Trate announced. "Heath, you were a proud boy. You were a tough boy. You were a boy who could do whatever he set his mind to do. You were a boy who boldly accepted challenges. You were an all-American red white and blue boy. Isn't that true?"
"Yeah," Heath answered in a soft whisper. "That's what's making it so hard for me to accept being turned into a dumb girl."
"I'll come back to your erroneous opinion that girls are dumb," Dr. Trate stated. "But I'm glad you admit that you were all boy. Now, I have a challenge for that boy. It's the most difficult challenge any boy can ever face. Are you up to that challenge?"
"I don't know," Heath hesitated.
"That doesn't sound like a big tough guy speaking," Dr. Trate declared disdainfully. "That sounds like a damn little sissy. Were you a sissy, Heath?"
"NO! I wasn't a sissy," Heath declared. "It's just that now things are different."
"Really," Dr. Trate asked. "Just because you lost your prized pecker and balls you're going to give up?"
"Why shouldn't I," Heath angrily declared. "How can I be a boy without my pecker and balls?"
"So in effect what you're telling me confirms what I stated earlier about boys thinking with their sex organs," Dr. Trate declared.
"No, that's not right, “Heath spat back. "Boys think with their brains too!"
"Is that so," Dr. Trate asked in a challenging tone.
"Yeah, that's so," Heath adamantly declared.
"Well consider this," Dr. Trate stated. "Boys think with their sex organs while girls do not. Do you know why? God gave man just enough blood to live and use his brain. He forgot to take into account the penis. It needs blood to enlarge so it can function. When the penis begins to function, the brain stops working because the penis is taking all the blood. That's why a guy thinks with his sex organs. God made a woman without a penis because he realized he'd goofed when he made man."
"That's not true," Heath declared although there was a strong tremor of doubt in his voice. "We guys can think with our brains any time."
"Very well, I guess in your case I believe you," Dr. Trate conceded. "Boys do sometimes think with their brains. It's quite obvious that you are thinking with a boy's brain right now because it's impossible for you to think with your sex organs. So in that way you still are a boy. Since you are a boy, I will make a challenge to your masculinity. I want to see just how tough a boy you are. The challenge I have is one that you are physically able to handle. The difficulty will be with your brain. As I said a moment earlier, it's the toughest challenge a boy can ever face. It will prove or disprove just how much of a man you really are. Now I ask you again, are you up to accepting this challenge?"
"If I can physically do it, yeah, I can accept the challenge," Heath declared with all the bravado he could muster.
"Very well," Dr. Trate declared. "The challenge is very simple. Heath, are you man enough to live the rest of your life as a girl?"
"Huh, what kind of a dumb challenge is that," Heath demanded.
"It's not a dumb challenge," Dr. Trate declared. "It's an honest challenge. Think about it. Isn't the toughest thing a guy can do is to become a girl? Won't that require every ounce of your determination and stamina?"
"Yeah," Heath replied uncertainly. "But what's the point?"
"The point is to prove to yourself and us just how tough you are," Dr. Trate explained. "Being tough is a very macho trait. It will be very tough for you to become a girl. Think about this in a positive way for a moment. You know that physically you are no longer a boy. You know that physically you are now a girl. It's only your mind that's still masculine. The only way you can prove your masculinity is to prove that you are tough. Now tell me honestly, isn't the toughest thing you can do is to become a girl?"
"Well, yeah," Heath responded in quite a perplexed voice. "The way you explain it the toughest thing I could do is to become a boy. I guess you’re right. The toughest thing any boy could do would be to become a girl. But that doesn't make sense."
"Of course it makes sense," Dr. Trate relied. "Considering your situation, is there anything else you could do that would be tougher?"
"No, there isn't." Heath replied with more than a hint of confusion.
"Well, then I challenge you to prove to us exactly how tough you are by becoming a girl," Dr. Trate once more challenged.
"You're trying to trap me into cooperating with this whole scheme to turn me into a girl," Heath declared indignantly.
"Perhaps," Dr. Trate conceded. "But look at things from another point of view. You are now physically a girl. I've done things to make sure that you are a very pretty girl. Anyone who sees you will see a girl. It really won't matter how you dress or behave, you'll still look like a girl. Now, if you insist on declaring that you are a boy people will think you're either crazy or the biggest sissy in the world. However, if you dress and behave in a manner consistent with your appearance, everyone will assume you're a pretty girl. Would you rather have everyone think you're a sissy or a girl?"
"If that's the only two options," Heath replied softly. "I'd rather be thought of as a girl. Anything's better than being a sissy."
"Precisely," Dr. Trate declared. "And those are your only two options. So you agree that it will be to your benefit to have everyone think that you are a girl."
"Yeah, I guess," Heath responded.
"There is no room for doubt," Dr. Trate stated firmly. "In order for people to think you are a girl and for them to treat you like a girl you will have to dress and behave like a girl. That is a must. To do otherwise will leave you a sissy."
"Okay, okay," Heath snapped back. "You made your point."
"Good," Dr. Trate said. "Now, that leaves only those of us in this room who know you are really a boy mentally. If you meekly slide into being a girl simply because you have no choice in the matter you will be showing us that you never really were much of a boy and had to be a big sissy. The only way you can prove to us that you are the toughest boy that ever existed is to accept the toughest challenge a boy can attempt. That challenge is to prove your manhood, to prove your toughness, by becoming a girl. Jump into this new existence with both feet. Grab it and run as if it were a football and you’re headed for the winning touchdown. Show us you were the worlds best boy by becoming the world's best girl!"
"All right already," Heath replied haplessly. "You've proved your point. I'll try to be the best g... g... girl I can," Heath sighed heavily and shivered before continuing. "But I want you all to know I won't like it and am only doing it because I really have no choice. I guess it is the last thing I can do to prove how tough I am."
"Great," Dr. Trate exclaimed. "I'm sure you'll prove your point to all of us. Now, one more thing. You made several comments about girls being dumb."
"All right, all right," Heath surrendered. "I know girls aren't dumb. It's just that according to the way a guy thinks, the ways girls think often seems dumb. It's just how girls arrive at their ideas of what's right and wrong is totally foreign to us guys."
"Well, be that as it may be, calling girls dumb is not acceptable," Dr. Trate insisted. "But then in a few weeks you'll be able to understand how girls think. Physically you're a girl. Without any testosterone your brain will be influenced by the deluge of female hormones engulfing your entire body. The female hormones will slowly rewire your brain so that you begin to think like a girl. Then you'll be in the unique position of being a girl who knows how guys think. Of course, that ability will fade. The longer you are a girl, the less you'll be able to understand how guys think. Eventually, you'll completely forget. Then you'll be just one of us girls."
Heath shivered and swallowed the bile he felt rising. "I'm really tired," Heath stated in a quiet voice. "This all a little too much to handle all at once."
"I think our darling little Heather is using her newly discovered girlishness to politely tell us she wants us all to leave," Dr. Trate laughed. "I think that's a good idea. Good night, young lady," she added as she blew Heath a kiss before leaving.
"Everything will be all right, Miss Heather," Joyce smiled as she patted his hand before leaving.
"Now you just get a good night's sleep, my darling second daughter," Hillary comforted him as she gave him a tender kiss on his forehead before she left.
"Oh Heather, we're going to have such fun! We'll be almost like twin sisters," Leslie giggled as she too kissed Heath on the forehead.
"Well, Heather, this is going to take quite a bit of adjusting, but you are my daughter now, so," with that Fred leaned over and gave the startled former boy a quick kiss on the forehead before fleeing the room.
Tears were filling Heath's eyes as his mother approached the bed. She took his hand in hers and squeezed. "Heather... I always dreamed of having a sweet daughter. Now that I finally have her, I must leave. It's really not fair. I love you," Helen stated as she leaned over and kissed her new daughter. Tears were in her eyes as she left the room.
"They all treated me like a girl," Heath softly cried aloud. "Mom thinks it's not fair! She ought to look at this mess from MY point of view. Even dad... I guess I really must be a girl now." Heath cried softly as he collapsed back onto the bed. He was totally helpless and his mind felt as if it was about to explode. With that Heath slipped into a bizarre dream.
"How did all this happen to me? It had to be that damn Leprechaun! I should have strangled him when I had the chance,” his battered boyhood inner voice (BBIV) proclaimed angrily.
"NO, that's simply horrid," exclaimed an offended timid sissy inner voice (TSIV) retorted saucily. "It's that type of thinking that got us in this mess in the first place."
"Oh shut up you little faggot," BBIV snapped at the long denied and suppressed portion of his mind. "You'll probably like being a dumb girl."
"I don't know about that," TSIV replied. "But I'll sure like it better than being the stupid jerk you made us be when you were in charge!"
"Well at least I was strong enough to be in charge," BBIV retorted. "I'm not a damn sissy faggot like you!"
"You can call me anything you like," TSIV laughed. "I can live in this body without balls and a dick. What are you going to do?"
"SHUT UP, damn it," BBIV exploded. "If I could get my hands on you I'd..."
"You'd try to do to me what you did to our balls and dick," TSIV laughed. "You abused them until you lost them. That's why I always stayed hidden, you jerk."
"Listen you little faggot, I knew you were in here," BBIV declared. "I was so ashamed of you. I never understood how you could be a part of me."
"I was ashamed of you, but there was nothing I could do to stop you from making fool out of us," TSIV answered. "So I just kept quiet and waited, hoping for a chance to come out and take over. I never expected an opportunity like this. Dr. Trate is right. The female hormones are taking over our body. It's changing the way we think. It's making me stronger and you weaker. In a few weeks, you'll be the meek quiet part of us."
"No way, you little faggot bastard," BBIV exploded. "I'll kill myself first!"
"Forget it, turkey," TSIV giggled. "You don't have the ability to do that anymore. I've grown strong enough now to stop you. Oh, one other thing, if you don't stop calling me a faggot, I'll make sure that I find a guy to make out with before you completely shrivel up and lose your voice. I think Jim Krick might like a good blow job from a cute girl like us."
"Jim Krick," BBIV exclaimed in horror as he recalled seeing the lead blocker for the football team in the shower. "But he's hung like a horse! You'd choke before you could do it!"
"But I'd have fun doing it," TSIV giggled.
"Damn, damn damn," BBIV blubbered as it struggled helplessly to attempt to pull the IV out of Heath's arm. "It's not fair! Let me do it. Let me kill us!"
"NO," TSIV replied calmly. "I won't let you kill us. I won't do Jim Krick either. I was just saying that to show you what I could do if I wanted to and to teach you a lesson that I am stronger than you are now. You're going to grow weaker and weaker while I grow stronger and stronger. We are no longer Heath. We are Heather. It's already a done deal. So you can either help out by cooperating or go through hell trying to stop something that can't be stopped."
"But it's not fair," BBIV cried. "I don't want to be a girl."
"I never wanted to be a girl either," TSIV answered soothingly. "But it has worked out that way. Now you can try to be the dumb jock you've always been and hit your head into a brick wall or you can shut up and let me take over. I'll be a heck of a lot better at adjusting to being Heather than you ever could do. Besides, if you keep fighting the inevitable, I might just look up Jim Krick. I wonder how it'd feel to have him take our cherry?"
"Aaaagghhh," BBIV screamed. "All right, damn it, I'll try to shut up and let you take over. But it won't be easy. Just stay away from Jim Krick!"
"I will," TSIV replied sweetly. "But I don't know about our girl part. She might like Jim."
"What girl part," BBIV exclaimed. "We don't have a girl part."
"That's where you're wrong, you dumb jock," a cute girlish inner voice (CGIV) teased. "Honestly, you macho guys are sooo pigheaded. Everybody has a tiny part of the opposite sex in them. That's especially true for boys. Do you remember biology when we study DNA and chromosomes? A girl's sex is determined by two chromosomes, XX, remember? A boy's sex is also determined by two chromosome, XY. The X is the same as a girl's. It's only the Y that makes the difference. So every boy has a little bit of girl hidden inside. I'm that part in us. It's just that up until now I was too small to even make my presence known. You saw to that you moronic jock! Now I'm growing. Soon I'll pass the macho part, then I'll pass the sissy part. I'll be the dominant part of us. I'll be Heather."
"This can't be happening," BBIV moaned. "There couldn't have been a part of us that was a girl."
"I wasn't aware she existed either," TSIV laughed. "But now I know she did. She couldn't talk but she kept tweaking me to get you to change."
"Yeah, and a lot of good it did me," CGIV pouted. "I couldn't talk so I just sat here in the back of our brain hoping someday to have a chance to take control. Soon, Mr. Macho will be the one who can't talk. Then I'll make up for lost time! So tell me, Mr. Sissy, just how well hung is Jim Krick?"
"NOOooo," screamed BBIV as he curled up into a mental fetal position.
"Well... I...," TSIV mumbled not really wanting to think about that possibility. "I was only joking when I said about getting it on with Jim."
"Well I'm not," CGIV replied with a mischievous giggle. "Now picture Jim in the locker room shower so I can see for myself."
"No... please," TSIV begged but it was too late.
The image swam to the surface of Heath/Heather's mind. Jim Krick stood 6 feet 8 inches tall and weighed in at 280 pounds of solid muscle. The senior spent most of his free time working out in the school's well equipped weight training room. BBIV cowered in terror. TSIV didn't want to look but was drawn to peek like a moth drawn to a flame. CGIV would have had Heath/Heather drooling if she was in complete charge of the body. The image of Jim sauntering naked towards the showers played back from the memory. A smirk of conceit filled his chiseled handsome face as he looked down his nose at the other less endowed guys. The other guys meekly scrambled out of his way. On his thickly matted hairy chest his pectoral muscles rippled as his hairy arms swung loosely at his side. His arms were thick with bulging biceps and triceps. His forearms were as big as the upper arms on most of the guys. His clenched hands looked like sledge hammers and could do just as much damage. Muscles rippled across his flat stomach. Twin muscular legs looked like hairy tree trunks. But the most impressive item about the young man was what hung between his massive thighs. The penis swung boldly with his every stride. The massive organ was at least 10 inches long and four inches in circumference... and it wasn't erect! Behind it in his hairy scrotum were what looked to be apricot sized testicles. The seventeen year old's body looked more like a gorilla than a boy, but his head revealed that he was an impressive handsome man.
"Oh yeah," CGIV whispered in awe as it drooled over the conjured image. "I gotta have some of that!"
"I don't think that's a good idea," TSIV pleaded as he shivered with mixed anxiety of fear and lust. "Jim knows Heath and he absolutely hates faggots. He'd never go for Heather."
"Any guy hung like Jim thinks with what's between his legs," CGIV whispered with anticipation. "All he wants is to slip what we've lost into a nice warm, wet place. We've got what he wants."
BBIV wanted to puke.
"I really don't think we're ready for that," TSIV meekly proclaimed. "Maybe someday, but not yet. It's the female hormones working on us that are making us feel this way. It's sort of like the sexual rush we used to get from testosterone. We'd better wait until our body settles down as Heather before we even think about having sex."
"I guess you're right," CGIV sighed. "But I think I'll be day dreaming about Jim Krick in the meantime."
"One other thing," TSIV added. "I think it'll be best if I run the show for a while. The tough guy can't handle being a girl and we're much too horny and inexperienced as a girl to give full control to our new girl persona. Let me be the transition persona. I'll try to blend the better portions of the old Heath into the new Heather. When everything's settled, I'll slip back into my hole and let the new girl persona take over."
"That sounds all right to me," CGIV giggled. "I'll be patient but I intend to advise!"
"Just do what you have to do," BBIV grumbled forlornly. "I'm dead anyway."
"You're not dead," TSIV implored. "You've just been shifted to the back. You were an important part of us. We won't ever forget our life as a boy."
"Yeah, right," BBIV complained. "Just do it and get it over with. I'm finished."
"Go crawl in a corner and sulk, big boy," CGIV chided. "You're like every bully. Once you face an opponent bigger than you run and hide. Being a girl is bigger than being a boy. Dr. Trate was right, the toughest thing a boy can do is to become a girl. Prove how much of a tough guy you are by helping us become a girl!"
"I'm helping the only way I can," BBIV mumbled. "I'm staying out of your way. Now please just let me find that corner and hide."
"Not on your life, sweetie," CGIV whispered compassionately. "In order for Heather to be a complete person we need you. If you're not here to tone me down, I'm likely to turn Heather into a slutty nymphomaniac. Heather needs you."
"She's right," TSIV agreed. "Heather can't be complete without you."
"Hmmf," snorted BBIV. "I'll see."
Heath woke up in a sweat. The clock by his bed said 8:00am. He'd slept through the night with a quite bizarre dream where his mind had split into three parts. But then, was this dream any more bizarre or real than his encounter with the leprechaun? Had either happened? Had both happened? He really didn't know. But he did know that the conclusion his three part inner argument had reached was valid. He had only one choice. That was to accept his girlhood and get on with his life.
At that moment Dr. Trate, Hillary, Joyce, Leslie, Helen, and Fred were seated in a conference room in another part of the building. "Now before we go in, it's critical that we all treat Heather as if she not only is a girl but as if she's always been a girl," Dr. Trate explained. "At no time can any of us call her Heath or refer to her with any masculine pronouns. Mr. Reilly, when Helen gives Heather the gift, you'll have to leave the room so she can put it on. We must treat her with girlish modesty and respect. That means you as a male must honor that girlishness."
"Of course," Fred agreed.
"We must do all we can to encourage girlish feelings in Heather," Dr. Trate continued. "This will require Leslie's cooperation and effort. We are all adults so let me blunt as I explain what needs to happen. Fred, this means you have to be extremely open minded. As a group we'll treat Heather as the girl she is. When it's time for you to leave to catch your plane, we'll all leave except for Leslie. Leslie, you know that your mother and Joyce are lovers. I prefer making love to a woman although having a man is an occasional nice change of pace. It will greatly hasten Heather's acceptance of her girlishness if you make out with her. It won't be necessary for you to do more than play with her breasts. You know how to do that from personal experience. Heathers breasts are so sensitive right now she'll be able to orgasm solely from the stimulation of her breasts. Bring her off as often as you can in as short a time as possible but do it kindly, with great tenderness and compassion. Reaching repeated orgasms will do more than anything else to convince Heather that she is indeed a girl. It will make her entire transition that much easier and quicker. Leslie, this is a big responsibility. Can you handle it?"
"Oh yes," Leslie exclaimed excitedly then blushed. "I was hoping to be able to make out with Heather when you left," she added sheepishly.
"Is that really necessary," Fred asked obviously shocked by the idea of encouraging a juvenile lesbian relationship.
"Fred," Dr. Trate explained. "Heath was totally infatuated by Leslie. He desperately wanted to get into her panties. That attraction and lust is still present and strong. Heather needs a trusted girlfriend to help her make the transition into complete girlhood. Can you think of anyone who is more girlish than Leslie? Could any other girl understand what being a boy was like? Can any other girl understand the surgery Heather has endured? No, only Leslie can do all those things. I know you're concerned that this could lead to Heather becoming a lesbian. She may after all, she was a very heterosexual young man. For her, making out with a guy could very well seem homosexual. Leslie liked Heath, she likes boys. She also likes girls. Heather will most likely be the same. Being bisexual isn't all that bad. But I can tell you this, if Heath continues to fight becoming Heather, he will suffer a total mental collapse. He must become Heather, and do so quickly. There is no better way than to have Leslie seduce her."
"Fred looked at the others and could see they were all firmly in agreement. Once more he was out voted. "All right," he finally sighed. "Just do me one favor and don't let me in on any more of these plots. I don't think my mental stability can handle it. All I ask is that you don't hurt Heath."
"We promise not to hurt HEATHER," Dr. Trate stated firmly as the others nodded their heads. "Heath no longer exists."
Fred sighed and sadly nodded his head.
A few moments later, everyone arrived in Heather’s room. Dr. Trate announced that the facial bandages could come off. First she removed the IV and then the restraints. Then she began to unwrap the bandages, explaining that Heather's face would be black and blue and slight scars would still be visible. The bruising would clear within a week and the scars would fade within a few days.
"Look past the scars and bruising," Dr. Trate explained as she pulled off the last bandage. "You'll be able to see Heather's pretty face." With that she stepped aside to allow everyone to see Heather.
"Oh my," Helen gasped as a smile filled her face. "Heather, you're beautiful!"
"Indeed," agreed Fred as he surveyed his daughters new visage. "You are one cute girl." His anxiety about what Leslie would do to Heather lessened when he saw there was little trace of his boyish son in Heather's girlish face.
"Oooh," giggled Leslie. "You and I are going to have to fight off the boys."
"Heather, you are simply gorgeous," Hillary proclaimed. "I'll be delighted to have you living in my home."
"Oh yes," sighed Joyce. "Dr. Trate, you did too good a job on her. I'll have my hands full keeping two adorable girls chaste."
"Here you go, Heather," Dr. Trate said as she held a large oval mirror before the anxious bed bound youth. "Now you can see for yourself that you are indeed a very pretty girl."
Heath peered into the mirror to see a bruised but utterly adorable girl peering tentatively back at him. Heather closely resembled Heath but there were significant differences. Heather had higher cheeks and even through the bruises and ever present sprinkling of freckles a hint of permanent blush gave her a rosy cherubic appearance. Heath's Adam's apple was totally gone leaving a smooth slender graceful neck. The macho cleft chin that had given Heath a macho appearance was now girlishly rounded. The slightly bent and crooked nose that revealed Heath's numerous encounters with hard objects was now a quintessentially girlish cute upturned button nose. Heath's slightly protruding Prince Charles type ears had been neatly pinned back and triple pierced. Girlishly long thick lashes enhanced her big green eyes. Just enough permanent eye liner had been used to highlight her eyes without looking obviously made up. A bit of electrolysis gave Heather permanently arched delicate girlish eyebrows. Permanent soft baby pink color was the crowning touch which gave Heather innocent girlishly pouty lips. All in all, Heather appeared to be a charming girl without the slightest hint of boyishness.
"Oh my," Heath gasped as he peered at his new reflection. "I guess I am a girl." Tears filled his eyes as he looked up at the loved ones surrounding him. "Look, this isn't easy for me. I always prided myself on being a tough guy. Now... looking like this, I really don't have any choice but to be the girl I've become. I'll try to learn to be a girl but it won't be easy. Please, be patient with me. Don't scold me if I do something wrong, even if you've already corrected me for the same thing. I've been a rough, I guess even crude, boy for 14 years. It won't be easy to change bad habits."
"Well, Heather, as long as we can tell your mistakes are innocent, you won't be scolded," Joyce assured the timid new girl. "Our goal is not to punish you but to help you adapt to being the pretty girl you've become. As long as we can see your sincere efforts in learning your new role in life, you'll be treated with love, kindness, and respect."
"This is for you, Heather," Helen said as she handed Heath a package wrapped in pink floral paper. "It's a going away present from your father and I."
Heath blushed as he took the gaily wrapped package. With everyone watching it he carefully opened the taped ends and removed the wrapping paper without tearing it.
"You really are a girl," Fred sighed as he watched. Heather's actions further reinforced Dr. Trate's earlier insistence that Heather was now a girl and needed to adjust quickly. "When you were a boy, you always tore the wrapping paper off. You opened this package like a girl."
Heath blushed even deeper and frowned. What his father said was true. This was the first time he'd ever opened a package so carefully. The care he'd used to open the gift was simply another sign of how rapidly he was changing.
"Oh stop being so modest," Leslie gushed. "We know you're a girl now. Open the present!"
Heath smiled tentatively at the friendly rebuke. With a sigh of accepting his girlish fate he lifted the lid from the box. He caught his breath when he saw what was inside. For a few moments he simply sat there looking inside the box with his mouth opened in a small O of surprise.
"Ooh it looks yummy," Leslie exclaimed. "Pick it up so we can all see it."
Heath looked at Leslie with a bit of disgust, wondering why she was being so bossy. Then he smiled as he realized she was simply excited about having a new girlfriend. Gently he reached inside the box and gingerly grasped the shoulders of what was obviously a lace trimmed pink satin nightgown. Slowly he lifted it from the box. It felt quite sleek and slippery, extremely thin yet substantial. It was undeniably feminine. A shiver engulfed him as he realized it was his first piece of girl clothes. Part of him was repulsed while another part was excited. It startled him to realize it was BBIV who was upset while CGIV was delighted. With that realization, BBIV fled, leaving CGIV in control. A wide grin of anticipation filled his face. Then he blushed and bit his lips and looked about to see understanding in the smiling faces surrounding him.
"Oh Heather, you simply MUST put it on right now," Leslie gushed. "It will feel so much nicer than that yucky hospital gown you're wearing."
Heath blushed and looked to see tears of joy trickling down his mother's face. He knew she was delighted with his reaction to the gift. "Is it all right to put it on," he tentatively asked Dr. Trate.
"My dear young lady," Dr. Trate beamed. "I insist you put it on. Leslie is entirely correct!"
"Ah... I think I'll step outside for a moment," Fred said as Leslie and Helen began to help Heather out of her hospital gown. The red-faced and confused man hurriedly left the room. Once outside he leaned up against the wall. He was confused by his open acceptance of the changes. There was no sense of loss, just a powerful sense that Heath becoming Heather was just so overwhelmingly right. Yet as he attempted to analyze his emotions, he found himself smiling as he thought how cute Heather would look wearing her new nightgown. The idea of Leslie seducing Heather now seemed right to him.
When Heather was nude, Helen gasped as she looked at her child's chest. Last Friday there had been two tiny swellings that merely hinted at the beginning of breasts. Now, one week later there were tiny twin mounds jutting proudly from that same but now all so girlish chest.
Heath noted the gasp and his mother's line of sight. Naturally he glanced down at his chest. He too gasped in surprise. The slight bumps of the previous week were now the well defined unmistakable mounds of budding girlish breasts. The areolas were the size of half dollars. The nipples were still about the size of pencil erasers but a deeper red in color than before.
If Heath had still been a male and saw such sassy breasts he knew he would have a raging erection. As it was, he felt a pleasant tingle emanating from each nipple which quickly grew into a warm flush that suffused his entire body. The saucy nipples erected even more in reaction to the new arousal, growing to a half inch long and a quarter inch in diameter, proudly erect and jutting arrogantly. Heath realized that he was feeling the beginnings of a very feminine sexual arousal. It felt very nice, much nicer than a boner. It also made him realize that he'd better forget thinking of himself as Heath, him, his, himself, and all those other male pronouns. With perky breasts upon his... HER chest, SHE knew she had indeed become Heather. A shiver of anxiety swept through her nude body. There was so much that had changed. But SHE found that so far most things had been rather nice, not the horrors HE had feared.
"I took the liberty of injecting some prolactin into your breasts during the surgery," Dr. Trate explained. "It rapidly increased your breast development and will do so for about another week. By then you should be developed enough to appear to be a fairly normal 14-year-old girl. Right now you're probably about a 'AA'. By next week when you're ready to begin attending St. Patrick Parochial School with Leslie you should be a perky 'A'."
Heath swallowed nervously as he tentatively reached up to cautiously cup his new breasts with his hands. The memories of how often he had wanted to fondle a nice set of girlish breasts made him feel quite guilty. When he actually touched his soft feminine flesh, the contact caused a tremendous upsurge of the arousal engulfing his body. A shiver of barely controlled passion swept through him. A low moan of pleasure erupted from Heather's parted pink lips. Her nipples simply begged to be pinched and kissed. In that moment of girlish passion the new girl forgot that she was not alone.
"Heather, there will be time to explore your new treasures later," Dr. Trate counseled with a smile.
Heath snapped back to reality. Quickly he pulled his hands from his breasts and turned beet red as he realized what he'd been doing. Being a girl was not going to be easy if simply touching his breasts caused such arousal. The girlish arousal made him realize that the female hormones were already quite far along in rewiring his brain. Maybe Dr. Trate had been right when she said the female hormones would help him adapt to being a girl. "I'm sorry," Heather whispered softly.
"Don't worry about it," Leslie giggled. "We'll have plenty of time to explore those feelings once we're sharing a bedroom."
Heath flushed with embarrassment while Heather blushed with anticipation. Heath/Heather remembered how the boy had desperately longed to make out with Leslie. Now here Leslie was telling him that she wanted to make out with her! It disturbed the boyish remnants of his self-esteem that his new growing girlish self-esteem wanted to join Leslie in bed as much as the boy part had! The Leprechaun's rhyme came back to him.
As a cute girl he'll be sad for quite a while;
but some day Heather, a pretty lass will smile.
His boyish lust, that ability now nil;
his last wish will be a delight to fulfill!
To get into Leslie Lynn's panties each day;
will be done in a most unusual way.
He hoped to enjoy Miss Balkut's girlish charms;
without setting off adult worry alarms.
All this can be done while putting him in place;
he will wear her panties of satin and lace!
"Most teenage girls explore their budding womanhood by sharing it with close girlfriends," Helen told Heather. "What you're feeling is normal for any yong teenage girl. But Leslie is right, this isn't the time or place, it should be done in private. Now, young lady, let's restore your modesty."
Heath wasn't about to argue with that as his mother raised the cute nightgown to slip it over his head. As the soft silken fabric touched his shoulders, Heath shivered with excitement. As his head disappeared inside the silken folds, he slipped his arms up into the sleeves. Once through the openings, the silken fabric was allowed to fall down his torso. As the wispy satin touched his erect nipples, little electric like shocks seemed to erupt and spark through his body. A very warm and pleasant glow began deep in the pit of his stomach. With a start he realized it was his new female sex organs reacting to the unrivaled arousal. Never before had he reacted to clothing in this manner. Again Heath realized that the feminine arousal was definitely pleasurable and not horrible as he had expected. Once more he realized that SHE was indeed now a girl. A tentative smile filled her pretty face.
With help from his mother and Leslie, Heather was soon properly ensconced in her lovely new pink satin nightgown. The short sleeves were full cut and trimmed with a half inch of delicate white lace. The V-neck had a three-inch wide satin collar of embroidered dainty colorful flowers was trimmed in matching lace. The V of the neck plunged to a point dead center between her saucy breasts. The empire waist caused the sheer satin bodice to cling to her budding breasts, teasingly revealing her still erect nipples. The nightgown reached to mid-thigh and the lace hem tickled Heather's soft white thighs. Heather was quite glad the bandages still covering her groin prevented the satin from causing further arousal. Near sensory overload, she had all the delightfully girlish feelings she could handle at the moment.
After a round of hugs and adjustments to her nightgown, Heather was soon settled back into her bed. Only then was Fred allowed back into the room. He smiled to see the pretty smiling girl sitting up in bed wearing the girlish nightgown. It disturbed him a bit to realize that his new daughter looked really cute and quite natural. He almost choked when he noticed her obvious cleavage. Upon closer perusal he noted the dark red color of her girlish areolas was visible through the sheer pink satin. It really startled Fred when he realized that Heather's breasts were obviously real since her pointed nipples stretched the satin fabric and her breasts jiggled slightly while they rose and fell in time with her breathing. Things were moving too rapidly for him. With a shudder he wondered how Heather was able to handle all the changes. He wondered how Heather would react when Leslie began her seduction. As he peered at Leslie, he understood why Heath had found her so attractive. That she had been born a boy like Heath seemed incomprehensible. Looking at Heather he found it equally incomprehensible that his daughter had ever been a boy. The idea of the two cute teenage girls getting it on gave him a most uncomfortable woody.
It soon became quite evident that Heather was becoming tired from the experiences of the morning. Since her parents had to catch an early flight, Dr. Trate suggested they let the young lady get some rest. Heather cried as everyone hugged her. Fred and Helen bid a tearful farewell as they left to make their flight to Africa. As planned, Leslie, who had taken the day off from school, was allowed to stay and keep Heather company.
"I guess this is all pretty hard for you," Leslie said as she sat on the edge of the bed once they were alone. "I know how weird it was for me after I had the surgery to become a real girl. It felt really strange not to have anything between my legs and like you my breasts had really grown. I wanted to be a girl so it really wasn't too traumatic for me. But I know you didn't want to be a girl so this is all really weird for you."
"It is hard to handle," Heath agreed. "I never wanted to be a girl. I was a boy and proud of it. The last thing in the world I'd have wanted was to become a girl."
"Well you're a girl now," Leslie cooed as she leaned over and softly kissed Heather upon her lips. "Now you just settle back and let me help you learn a little bit about being a girl." With that she settled beside Heather and cupped the new girl's breasts with her hands. With the experience of self-stimulation, Leslie began to tease and fondle Heather's sensitive budding breasts. She had no qualms whatsoever about seducing this cute girl.
"Oh Leslie," Heather gasped as waves of girlish arousal began sweeping through her body. A very warm feeling started in the pit of her stomach and she immediately knew it was her new female sex organs. "That feels sooo good... and sooo naughty! If this is what it feels like to be a girl I think I'm going to love it!"
"I KNOW you'll love being a girl," Leslie giggled. "I can hardly wait until we do this snuggled together in bed every night!"
Heather shuddered and squealed as she reached her first orgasm as a girl. "Oh God that was fantastic," Heather gasped once she caught her breath. "You didn't even have to touch me down there. It's practically impossible for a guy to come without being touched down there. Is it always so nice?"
"It has been for me," Leslie replied as she gently massaged Heather's breasts. "How does it compare to coming as a boy?"
"There's no comparison," Heather responded breathlessly as she snuggled closer. "I thought it was good coming as a boy, but this... it's just so yummy! As a boy everything is centered in the penis with just a wee bit in the balls. But this way... it's centered in my breasts and pus... er... privates, and spreads all over my body. It made me tingle all over! I love it!"
"So you're glad you've become a girl," Leslie impishly asked.
"Well, I don't know if I'm ready to admit that yet," Heather sobered as she blushed. "But it will sure make adapting to being a girl a lot easier."
"When you came as a boy, how often could you come," Leslie asked.
"That's a silly question," Heather giggled. "Like every other guy I'd come once and that would be it. I'd have to wait at least an hour before I could even try to do it again. If I was lucky, I could do it maybe four or five times a day. Is it different for girls?"
"Just a bit," Leslie cooed as she once more set to work to bring Heather off.
Heather was soon writhing and moaning. In less than three minutes she came again, less than five minutes after her first time. But Leslie didn't stop, and neither did Heather. She came again and again and again. Each time bigger and better than the last. Finally after her eighth orgasm in fifteen minutes she gasped and pulled Leslie's talented fingers from her tender breasts.
"God, no more," Heather gasped and panted for breath. "I can't take any more! That was phenomenal! Is it possible to come like that all the time?"
"You better believe it, GIRL," Leslie laughed as she once more kissed Heather full on the lips. This time there was a desperate passion in the heated kiss.
"Do you want me to do you," Heather asked as she looked up into Leslie's smiling face.
"Thanks for offering but I got so turned on doing you I came too," Leslie confessed. "I'll wait until you're stronger and come home for you to return the favor," Leslie replied as she tweaked Heather's nipples. "For now, you just enjoy learning to be a girl."
"I will," Heather replied as she snuggled down onto the bed. "You really wore me out. I think I'll take a nap." With that she pulled the covers around her neck and closed her eyes. "Leslie, thank you," Heather whispered sleepily.
"You're welcome, girlfriend," Leslie answered as she slipped off the bed and carefully tucked Heather in. "I think I'll go for a walk while you rest. Pleasant dreams, girl."
Heather smiled wearily as she drifted off to sleep. Curious thoughts swirled through her pleasure entranced mind. Girl... girl... girl...
"Well, there can no longer be any doubt in our mind that we are now a girl," CGIV giggled happily. "I love the way it feels to be a girl. The nightgown... the orgasms... our breasts... it's all so deliciously yummy and excitingly naughty!"
"The Leprechaun had been right," TSIV sighed. "Heath hated becoming a girl but Heather has quickly grown to love it."
"You better believe it," CGIV squealed with delight.
"Of course, that doesn't mean we are just going to abandon our boyish past," TSIV attempted to calm the new girlish portion. "Even though we’ve found being a girl has its good parts, it still will be difficult to break the old boy habits. To wear dresses will be a very trying experience although we now have no doubt that it will feel very nice. Being seen by others will be the hard part. Learning how to handle yourself in a skirt without consciously thinking about it will be challenging too."
"I can understand your concerns," CGIV replied in a more serious tone. "I'd probably have us jumping from bed to bed if you let me run free. Come on, Mr. Macho, I know you're still in here trying to bury your head in the sand, spit it out. Has becoming a girl been as bad as you feared?"
"Can't you just leave me alone," BBIV moaned. "Isn't it enough that I'm destroyed?"
"You big dope," CGIV scolded. "You'll only be destroyed if you give up and go crawl in a corner to shrivel up."
"She's right," TSIV joined in. "This is your last chance to save at least a part of what we were. Now quit being such a wimp and tell us what you think of being a girl."
"All right," BBIV replied sullenly. "I hate to admit it but the absolute horror I had first feared didn't happen. So far it hasn't been too bad. That's not to say I like it, but my major fears are gone. Now we know we are and for the rest of our life will be Heather."
"To hear that from you is great," CGIV sincerely stated "Right now I think we feel more like a devout tomboy who has come of age and is discovering the joys of girlhood. We really don't want to lose you, Mr. Macho, we need to incorporate your better parts in the new us."
"The terror is gone," TSIV added. “It's been supplanted by an anxious anticipation. I think Mr. Macho will be a silent partner as we grow into Heather."
"You're still the great mediator," BBIV grumbled. "But you're right."
"That's great," CGIV giggled with delight. "Now WE can become Heather!"
Leslie joined her mother, Joyce, and Dr. Trate in the conference room after she left Heather. The saucy girl was all smiles as she entered the room and took a seat.
"I'm really going to like having Heather for a sister," Leslie proclaimed. "She's so sweet. I had no problem at all seducing her. I accomplished everything you wanted. Of course, I had a great time too!"
"That's great," Dr. Trate smiled. "In all the sexually active males I've transformed into females I have yet to find one that didn't succumb to being seduced. Once they experience an orgasm as a female, there is no going back. Even though they hate losing their masculinity, they've all quickly slipped into accepting their femininity."
"So, my darling little minx," Hillary asked. "Are you still happy that I raised you as a girl?"
"You bet, Mom," Leslie exclaimed. "Being a girl is the only way to live. It's so much easier being raised as a girl than it is to change in midstream like Heather's doing. Dr. Trate, maybe you can isolate that fungal/virus that destroyed Heath's masculinity. We could give it to all the boys! The world would be so much better if there were only women."
"It also would be a lot more boring and short lived," Dr. Trate laughed. "We need males to continue the human race. While lesbian sex is very nice and satisfying, we also need males for heterosexual sex. You aren't going to be a strict lesbian are you."
"Well, for now I am," Leslie said softly as she blushed. "But when I do it with a guy, I'll be in control! Maybe you could do to my husband what you did to Candi."
"Perhaps," Dr. Trate laughed. "But I'd much prefer to have you do it yourself. You and Heather are both very bright young ladies. You also know from first hand experience how much nicer life is as a girl. Or at least Heather will learn that before too long. I'd like to sponsor both of you through a pre-med college curriculum, and on through medical school. Two intelligent and knowledgeable girls such as you will make very capable additions to my practice. It will take at least 14 more years of schooling, but I look forward to having you both as partners in my practice. Just think of the fun you'll have changing nasty boys into simpering sweet girls!"
"Oh, that does sound like fun," Leslie enthused. "It makes my panties wet just thinking about it!"
"It looks like I'll have my work cut out for me." Joyce laughed. "I'll have to see to it that you two little imps grow up to be proper young ladies and keep up with your studies."
"I'm sure you'll do it," Hillary added with a twinkle in her eye. "You do everything so well."
"You're quite skilled yourself," Joyce retorted with a mischievous giggle.
"Honestly," Leslie exclaimed while shaking her head. "You two sound like Heather and I"
"We are," Hillary chuckled. “After all, we were only two years older than you are now when we became lovers."
"Dr. Trate, do you really enjoy changing boys into girls," Leslie asked.
"Yes, I do," Dr. Trate affirmed. "The more a boy doesn't want to become a girl, the better I like it."
"Have you transformed a lot of boys into girls who didn't want to be girls," Hillary asked.
"Almost all of them," Dr. Trate replied. “You were one of five who wanted to become a girl."
"Oh wow," Leslie exclaimed. "Did they all have some sort of fungal/virus like Heather?"
"No, most were perfectly normal boys when they first came to see me," Dr. Trate confessed. "For one reason or another, they were brought to me because they had behavior problems. It was hoped my hypnotherapy could correct their behavior. I could have done so, but after talking to the mother, or in some cases an aunt or grandmother, I determined the adult had no idea how to raise a boy and longed to raise a girl. The solution was quite obvious. I corrected the boy's behavior by turning him into a sweet girl."
"How do you do it," Leslie asked.
"Well, generally I start with a blood test to see if there are any abnormalities that may account for the bad behavior," Dr. Trate explained. "Then I use those results to begin a hormonal drug therapy that destroys the male sex and institutes a female puberty. Eventually they become so feminine they can no longer appear as boys. At that point I announce the irreversibility of the condition that caused the derailing of the masculine puberty and the start of the female puberty. I usually add that as the male sex organs atrophy, they'll die and become gangrenous. The only way to save the boy's life is to remove the male organs completely, and while I'm at it, to redesign his body to match his feminine puberty. Then I suggest they enroll at St. Patrick Parochial School. Mother Superior Erin Murphy and the nuns on the staff are quite cooperative about accepting the special new girls as students. They make sure all the girls behave like proper young ladies."
"I'll say they do," Leslie sighed which made the adults chuckle a bit.
"What you described sounds almost like what happened to Heath," Leslie exclaimed after a moment. "But what do you do if the blood test comes back okay?"
"I send all my blood samples to a lab that I own," Dr. Trate chuckled. "The test results always come back showing some sort of imbalance."
"Oh wow," Leslie exclaimed, then her eyebrows creased. "Did Heather really have a fungal/virus infection?"
"It really doesn't matter anymore, does it," Dr. Trate replied with a smug smile of satisfaction that left Leslie know the truth.
"No, I guess it doesn't," Leslie replied. "So you really do it to boys just because you want to do it."
"Yes," Dr. Trate answered. "My efforts at eradicating juvenile delinquents has come to the attention of several ardent feminist female lawyers, police officers, prosecutors, and judges who handle the legal paperwork needed to change my patients from boys into girls. They like the idea too. They're trying to set up a program with the juvenile courts where troublesome boys would be sent to me for therapy rather than going into conventional juvenile detention. Of course these boys would have to be physically capable of becoming attractive girls and have family's who would be amendable to my treatments, of course it usually requires a little hypnotherapy, for the parents as well as the subject to enable the changing of the bad boys into good girls. If it takes off, I'll be quite busy. I'll need partners like you and Heather to help with the practice."
"This is really mind boggling," Leslie stated. "But it sounds like fun! It just seems such a long time to wait. Hey, I have an idea. Maybe Heather and I won't have to wait."
Everyone was all ears as they waited for Leslie to continue.
"Well, I know the nuns at St. Patrick Parochial School get fed up with the antics of some of the boys," Leslie went on with mounting excitement. "From what I've gathered since I've been there, each year several boys are enrolled because of behavior problems and their parents or guardians hope the stricter school can help straighten out the boys. I'm pretty sure that since Mother Superior Erin Murphy and the nuns know about and accept what you do, perhaps they could recommend that the troublesome boys see you for hypnotherapy to help them behave. They already have the boy's records and know the family situation. They could screen the boys before they send them to you!"
"That does sound quite interesting," Dr. Trate mused. "I'll definitely look into the matter. Since she's obviously Irish, I'm sure Mother Superior Erin Murphy will find Heather's tale about the Leprechaun quite amusing. I'll use it to break the ice when I talk to her. Thank you for the wonderful idea, Leslie."
"It's my pleasure," Leslie exclaimed. "I'll even help pick out the boys!"
"If you're really interested in helping," Dr. Trate began with a mischievous grin. "I have a way you and Heather can help now."
"Oh yes, I'd love it," Leslie giggled. "I'm pretty sure Heather will go along with it too once she completely accepts her girlhood."
"Excellent," Dr. Trate continued. "As I mentioned earlier there are several feminist lawyers, police officers, prosecutors and judges who are aware of my unusual practice. A few have approached me about the possibility of transforming some boys and men into girls without their cooperation or the complete cooperation of their parents or guardians if they're underage. So far I have refused because it's simply too hazardous. One lawsuit or claim could destroy my entire practice. But with you and Heather as ringers and the cooperation of the feminist lawyers, I'm sure we could coerce even the most resistant male or, if he's underage, his parent or guardian to agree to my treatment."
"That sounds exciting," Leslie enthused.
"Good," Dr. Trate continued with a broad anticipatory grin. "It would require that you and Heather, two quite virginal and innocent young teenage girls, date those males. We can figure out how they'll meet you on an individual basis. Now we all know what males want when they take a girl out, especially if she is a pretty, feminine, and innocent girl. Knowing this but playing as if you don't, you date them. Because of your supposed juvenile naivete they manage to seduce you. This would mean that you allow them to have their way with you without too much protest and no threats to fix them. You'd have to behave as if you loved doing it, even agreeing to see them again if they ask. As soon as you get home, we rush you to the hospital where you plead date rape. Right now that would be statutory rape, an even more serious crime. We'd make sure the case goes to a sympathetic police officer and a tough feminist prosecutor. They agree to hold off pressing charges if the culprit and, if he's underage, his parents or guardians come to me for hypnotherapy sessions. From there the case would be mine."
"That sounds like a lot of fun," Leslie said. "Only I'm not sure about getting seduced."
"I can help you handle that," Dr. Trate replied.
"I'm sure you can," Hillary chuckled. "You do know. Leslie, dear, what Dr. Trate's full name is don't you," Hillary asked with a huge smile across her face as Joyce and Dr. Trate snickered.
"Sure," Leslie replied in obvious confusion about what was so hilarious. "Her name is Dr. Cassandra Trate."
"Yes," snickered Hillary. "What's the nickname for Cassandra?"
"Cass," Leslie replied still not getting what was so funny.
"So what's her name," Hillary persisted as all three women barely controlled breaking into peels of laughter.
Leslie furrowed her brows and thought. "Why I guess it'd be Cass Trate."
The three ladies could no longer control their laughter. Huge guffaws resounded in the room.
Leslie looked perplexed for a moment, then gasped and held her hand over her mouth. "Now I get it," the girl giggled naughtily. "Cass Trate... castrate... what you like doing to boys!"
Everyone laughed. After a few moments Leslie gasped again and held her hand over her mouth. "If I become a doctor and do join your practice, I'll be Dr. Balkut... get it... ball cut?"
The hilarity resumed until tears trickled from every eye.
That afternoon, Leslie was with Heather when Dr. Trate entered the room to remove the bandages from her groin. Needless to say, Heather was quite apprehensive.
"Can't you knock me out first," Heather asked with a trembling voice.
"This won't hurt, Heather," Dr. Trate reassured her. "Just ask Leslie."
"It won't hurt," Leslie affirmed. "It feels strange, but not bad at all. It just takes a bit of getting used to, that's all."
"I still want to be knocked out," Heather whimpered as tears began to trickle down her cheeks and she began to tremble.
"Heather, you're going to have to see your new plumbing sooner or later," Dr. Trate stated. "Wouldn't you rather do it when I was here to explain everything and Leslie was at your side?"
"Yes," Heather whimpered. "I'm just real scared."
"I understand, Heather," Dr. Trate soothed. "Remember, I told you it was going to be tough being a girl, and this is the toughest part. Once you're though this, the rest goes easier. Now just try to relax. Hold onto Leslie's hand."
Heather grasped Leslie's hand and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. Dr. Trate carefully began removing the bandages as Heather trembled. Once all the wrappings and dressings were removed, Dr. Trate paused.
"It's almost over, Heather," Dr. Trate stated. "The only thing I have to do is to remove the catheter. This will tickle and might take your breath but it won't hurt. Here goes."
Heather bit her lip as she felt a weird sensation in her groin, then it did begin to tickle. Despite her anxiety, she began to giggle and squirm. Suddenly the tickling took on new dimensions. It began to feel quite good... very good. Heather's breasts began to tingle and the diffusion of arousal began throughout her body, much as it had happened earlier when Leslie had been playing with her breasts. The major difference was the rapidity and intensity were much greater. Heather began to orgasm, arching her back and thrusting her hips upwards as a low moan of pure lust escaped her lips. Then she caught her breath and convulsed as she experienced an enormous orgasm centered in her groin but encompassing her entire body. The entire thing lasted only ninety seconds but it felt fantastic. Heather collapsed and panted.
"I warned you it'd take your breath away," Dr. Trate laughed as she patted Heather's tummy.
"I know just how yummy that was," Leslie sighed. "I loved it when it happened to me."
It took Heather five minutes to recover. During that time she thought about how different it was to be a girl. Never had an orgasm been nearly as intense when she was a boy.
"Now that you're feeling better, young lady, it's time to look at your new plumbing," Dr. Trate stated. "I'll take you on a guided tour."
With Leslie holding her hand for reassurance, Heather bit her lip and glanced between her legs. The long familiar sight of a cock and balls was startlingly absent. A tear of longing for what was no more trickled down her cheeks. Once more, and quite effectively, the point was driven home that Heather was indeed all girl. Heather screwed her eyes shut, gasped, and then caught her breath as she struggled to come to grips with her irreversible change.
After swallowing a bit of rising bile, Heather took a deep breath to calm what little remained of her shattered boyish nerves. Once she had her emotions back under control she once more peered between her thighs. The area was still a bit swollen and red, but it looked exactly like what Heath had drooled over when wacking off while looking at centerfolds in his porno magazines. Heather watched and listened with rapt attention as Dr. Trate pointed out her new clitoris, vagina, labia major, and labia minor. Not only was Heath seeing what he had fruitlessly lusted after for so long, but Heather was feeling quite pleasant sensations emanating from each part of her feminine anatomy. It was all quite disconcerting but very interesting.
Dr. Trate then removed the vaginal form and did an internal exam while Heather blushed when Dr. Trate said; "Everything looks quite good. You should have no problems accommodating a male."
Heather learned how to lubricate the vaginal form, which looked a bit too much like a penis to make her comfortable, with bacitracin to promote healing and prevent infection. She was a bit stunned and listened mutely upon learning she had to do this several times a day for the next month. Finally the ordeal ended when Dr. Trate handed Heather the matching panties to her new nightgown.
Heather trembled and blushed as she accepted the pink satin full cut panties. For a moment she held them out to look at them. They were quite pretty. The lace trim about the waist and legs matched the lace trim of her yummy nightie. Heather bit her lip as she recalled the number of times she had, as a rascally boy, tried to catch a glimpse of a girl's panties. Now she held her own. She recalled how often she'd longed, again as a rascally boy, to get into some girl's panties, especially Leslie's panties. She also remembered the Leprechauns damning rhyme:
His boyish lust, that ability now nil;
his last wish will be a delight to fulfill!
To get into Leslie Lynn's panties each day;
will be done in a most unusual way.
He hoped to enjoy Miss Balkut's girlish charms;
without setting off adult worry alarms.
All this can be done while putting him in place;
he will wear her panties of satin and lace!
A tear of anguish for all Heath had lost as well as the guilt Heather now felt for those naughty boyish wants trickled down Heather's cheek.
Leslie understood. "Put them on, Heather," Leslie soothed. "Grasp them at the sides and hold them up by the waist. The shorter section is the front."
Heather did as instructed and determined the front of the panties. With a bit of trepidation, she slipped the dainty garment, the ultimate symbol of girlishness, over her feet and slowly slid them up her legs. The tickling sensations of the satin and lace kissing her flesh were heavenly and quite enticing. Sliding them into place about her hips and snugging them into her flat groin felt totally awesome and a bit naughty. They fit like a glove and felt wonderful. An embarrassed smile filled her red face.
"I really am a girl," Heather whispered aloud in awe.
“Yes, you are," Dr. Trate smiled. "You are a very pretty girl."
"You're my cute sister," Leslie smiled and nodded.
Dr. Trate left to make her rounds. Leslie and Heather sat and talked about being a girl. Of course, Leslie did most of the talking while Heather tried to fit all she was learning into her new outlook on life.
When supper arrived, two meals were delivered. One for Heather and one for Leslie. The girls ate slowly and finished every morsel. When they were done, the trays were removed. A short time later Heather bit her lip and began to squirm.
"I know that squirm," Leslie giggled. "You've got to relieve your bladder. Come on, I'll guide you through it. It's not hard doing it as a girl but it is a lot different."
Heather meekly followed Leslie into the toilet. She knew girls had to sit to pee, but how they did it was a total mystery.
Heath awoke slowly and snuggled comfortably beneath his warm blankets. The tendrils of a bizarre dream lingered in his mind. It seemed like something from Tales of the Crypt. Imagine, being changed into a girl and living with Leslie. Pleasant tickling and sensual sensations cascaded into his fuzzy brain as he moved and stretched. Like most other mornings for the past few years, he reached between his legs to absent-mindedly stroke his normal morning erection. Instead of the fumbling through the course cotton cloth of his pajama, he encountered soft silken fabric. Confusion quickly gave way to fear. Maybe it hadn't been a dream! Catching his breath and scrunching his eyes shut, Heath gingerly fumbled the soft slippery nylon fabric up to his waist to gain access to his groin. His fear and terror grew when he discovered the lace hem of what had to be the nightgown he wore. Swallowing to keep the bile from rising into his throat, he lunged his right hand into his crotch. Two things happened simultaneously. First, his upper arm encountered a soft, quite sensitive mound upon his chest. His beleaguered mind recognized it as his breast! The second thing was that his clawing fingers encountered his silken panties. Through the sheer fabric he could feel the outlines of his pussy! At the same time his highly sensitive pussy reacted with a most delightful and expectant quiver and almost instantaneous wetness. It hadn't been a bizarre dream! It had been real! He’d become a damn sissy girl! Revulsion and horror engulfed his body.
"You're really a trip," GGIV giggled. "We've been through this every morning since the surgery. How long am I going to have to let you wake up before you stop freaking out?"
"What... who...," BBIV stuttered as the brain came fully online.
"It's the animal in him," TSIV mocked. "He's always been like this when he wakes up."
"Well I hope he soon learns to control himself," GGIV pouted. "I want us to meld together. I can be a better person if I have complete recall of my dumb boyish past. But I'm getting tired of this panic attack every morning. If he soon doesn't get with it, I'll crush him out of existence."
"You'd like that," BBIV shuddered as he tried to collect himself.
"Duh," TSIV interrupted. "If she wanted that, she'd have already done it. You're just like most guys. You really are just a big dumb jerk."
"Well at least I'm not a pantywaist sissy," BBIV snapped angrily.
"Being a pantywaist sissy is better than being a coward," TSIV scoffed. "At least I'm making the best out of our new existence."
"Just get with it," GGIV sighed. "Be man enough to know you're a girl now. Remember Dr. Trate told you could prove how tough a boy you were by becoming a girl."
"Well that's a bunch of bull," BBIV sniffled.
"It looks to me like you're the one who's the pantywaist sissy," TSIV snorted. "At least I'm making the best out of our new life."
"Well, we'll try again tomorrow," GGIV sighed. "You two just shut-up and let me take over. It's time for Heather to wake up. Say, Mr. Tough Guy, unless you want to see Leslie's bedroom, you'd better crawl back into your hole. I'm going to open our eyes."
As Heather opened her eyes the morning sun was shining through the sheer pink Priscilla curtains hanging on the south facing windows. As her eyes adjusted, she looked about her. She was lying in a twin sized canopy bed against the north wall. Pink satin sheets surrounded her beneath the pink quilted satin comforter edged with three inch ruffles. Her head rested upon two fluffy pillows in pink satin pillow cases with three inch ruffles. As she quickly looked about, she noted the walls had a lustrous oak thirty-six inch high inch thick bead board wainscoting topped with a three inch wide chair rail. Above the wainscoting the walls were covered with a rich garden green and pink floral wall paper. The ceiling was a flat off-white color while thick pink wall to wall carpeting covered the floor. The doors as well as the wooden trim of the doors and windows matched the wainscoting. The large bedroom was sixteen feet wide north to south and twenty feet long east to west. All the furniture was in an antique white French Provincial style. A double night stand separated her bed from Leslie's identical bed. On the outside of each bed were smaller single night stands with dainty pink ballerina lamps topped with pink satin ruffled shades.
The east wall had two doors. The one nearest the north wall was obviously the entry. Beside the door was a large floor to ceiling hutch with porcelain dolls tastefully displayed upon the shelves. The second door was located halfway down the wall. The door was open and a pink marble tiled bathroom was visible. From the sounds emanating from the private bath it was apparent Leslie was performing her morning ablutions. A corner desk wrapped from the door around the corner to the first window on the south wall. Between the two windows on the south wall was a double vanity table with lighted mirrors and two chairs. Combs, brushes, a tiny bit of make-up, and two jewelry boxes sat on the top. Another corner desk identical to the first wrapped from the second window about the corner and onto the western wall. A door in the center of the west wall was open to reveal a huge walk-in closet filled with dresses, skirts, blouses, and sweaters. A double dresser filled the space between the door and the north wall. Even before becoming a girl, Heath had expected Leslie's bedroom to be all sugar and spice. The darling bedroom was as quintessentially girlish as Heather had expected.
As Heather completed surveying the darling bedroom she was sharing with Leslie, her bladder reminded her that it needed to be relieved. Slipping from her bed, she walked quickly to the bathroom.
"Good morning sleepyhead," Leslie greeted as she gave her roommate a warm hug. "I was afraid I'd have to wake you. I don't know about you, but I much prefer to wake up slowly on my own. When an alarm clock or if someone has to wake me, I'm miserable for hours. Now get a move on, girl, or you'll be late for your first day of school."
Having been an only child, Heather enjoyed having a someone her own age greet her in the morning. The hug was especially nice. She recalled how much Heath hated a morning hug. Of course, Heath would have loved giving Leslie a morning hug, especially when she was dressed in a skimpy sheer nylon pink baby doll nighty that clearly revealed her every curve. Heather enjoyed the hug immensely too. Heather and Leslie looked forward to hugging every morning. The entwined nubile girls, both clad in dainty silken nylon with their budding breasts touching so sensuously as they hugged, was quite a delightful experience.
The hug lingered as the girls gazed happily into each other's eye as their nipples stiffened and swelled. Finally Leslie broke the hug with a short hot kiss on Heather's lips. "We've got to get ready for school. If you're not so sleepy tonight, maybe we can cuddle before we go to sleep. Now, you take care of business in here and I'll lay out our school uniforms."
After another quick kiss, Leslie scurried from the room before she attacked Heather. Heather smiled, delighted with the mutual sensual effects she and Leslie experienced. For a brief moment, pangs of regret for her lost masculinity bobbed in her mind. The greatly inhibited pseudo-macho Heath had longed to do the things Heather so freely did with Leslie. Shaking her head to dispel the lingering lonely boyish hopelessness, she threw herself into her morning ritual.
By the time Heather emerged from the bathroom, Leslie was already dressed in the St. Patrick's Parochial School uniform. The cute blonde appeared beguilingly girlish yet managed to appear as quite the chaste young miss. The uniform consisted of a just above the knee pleated bib fronted skirt made of Kelly green and red plaid light weight cotton. About an inch of delicate lace-trimmed hem of the crinoline petticoat was revealed beneath the skirt as it fluffed the hem skirt out three inches from her legs. A rear buttoning white cotton blouse featured a lace edged Peter Pan collar. The fluffy long sleeves ended in lace edged elastic cuffs. The bib front of the skirt was just wide enough to demurely cover the front of her breasts while still offering a glimpse of the perky feminine mounds from the sides. The lace bottom edge of the Peter Pan collar just covered the top of the bib. The straps of the bib front traveled under the collar and crossed in back before buttoning to the rear waistband of the rear zippered skirt. White cable knit cotton kneesox added greatly to Leslie's air of girlish innocence. White and red leather saddle shoes adorned her feet. A Kelly green satin ribbon tied her blonde hair back into a high, bouncy ponytail while softly curled bangs whispered against her eyebrows. A golden stud filled the top hole in her pierced ears. A diamond stud filled the second hole. From the third hole small olive shaped golden ovids were suspended by golden chain to dangle and sparkle in the morning light. A delicate gold chain suspended a tiny heart about her neck. A fine gold girls watch was on her left wrist while a simple gold bangle bracelet adorned her right wrist. A leather red and white shoulder purse would complete the outfit.
Heather smiled as she saw how adorable Leslie looked in the uniform. Laid out on her bed was an identical uniform for her to wear. With it was a pair of virginal white silken nylon panties edged with lace and a matching bra. A leather red and white shoulder purse lay beside the uniform. White and red leather saddle shoes sat on the floor. On a green felt pad by the uniform was an identical set of jewelry. Heather's smile grew as she realized that she and Leslie would be dressed identically from the skin out, including all their accessories. With Leslie's assistance it took only took a few moments for Heather to don her school uniform.
When the giggling girls appeared in the kitchen for breakfast, Hillary and Joyce were seated at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Heather stopped before them and twirled in a circle so her skirt swirled out to reveal her generous petticoats. Not to be outdone, Leslie did the same.
"I hope you two don't do that at school," Joyce admonished them in a jovial manner.
"Heather, you look simply beautiful," Hilary stated proudly. "Are you ready for your first day of school as a girl?"
"I'm nervous and a bit apprehensive," Heather replied. "But it has nothing to do with being a girl. I'm just not sure about the strictness of this school. I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be."
"That's an excellent answer," Hillary responded. "If you keep that open and respectful attitude, you should have no trouble adapting to St. Patrick's Parochial School. Now, tell me, what do you think of your earrings?"
"I really like them," Heather replied as she reached up her right hand to toy with the dangling golden ovid on that side of her head. "The combination really compliments itself, especially these dangly earrings. I never saw ones shaped like this. I hope they're not too expensive."
"Heather, they are very rare one of a kind earrings," Hillary answered. "You must promise to take care with them. You don't want to lose them because they're irreplaceable."
"But Leslie has a pair just like mine," Heather replied in puzzlement as she continued to toy with the golden orb. "What makes them so rare and valuable?"
"Heather, please sit down," Hillary ordered gently.
This puzzled Heather even more but she obediently did as ordered. Leslie promptly stepped up behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulders. This made Heather even more anxious. Whatever made the dangling earrings rare and valuable was not to be taken lightly. This made her toy with the oddly shaped golden earring even more. The unconscious action gave her an uncanny sense of relaxation.
"Heather, do you remember when Dr. Trate first told you your testicles had to be removed?"
"Yes," Heather replied softly as a shiver of dread swept through her at the unsavory memory. The sudden shift in the direction of the conversation obviously totally confused her as she continued to fondle the golden earrings.
"Oh you innocent darling," Hillary exclaimed. "Do you recall that Dr. Trate told you there was only one way that you could save your testicles?"
Heather frowned in deep thought for a moment as she toyed with her earring. For an instant she froze. Then her mouth opened in an 'O' of shock, her eyes opened wide in stunned disbelief, and her left-hand shot up to grasp the golden orb dangling from her right ear. Now she held one of the oddly shaped earrings in each hand. The shapes were suddenly all too familiar. "Oh God," Heather gasped as the old feeling of security and relaxation Heath had always engendered when he'd played with his balls crept into Heather's overwhelmed mind.
"Yes, Heather," Hillary stated softly as Leslie reassuringly squeezed Heather's shoulders. "That's why your earrings are so irreplaceable. They are one of a kind, just as Leslie's earrings are one of a kind. That's also why they look so much alike. Your mother asked Dr. Trate to save your testicles to have them made into earrings. Dr. Trate gave them to me yesterday just before you were discharged. You're wearing your family jewels."
Heather felt nauseated for a moment. Deep in her brain BBIV screamed in agony. The powerful sense of loss and emasculation the castration had engendered was suddenly revitalized. Unconsciously Heather continued to fondle her now bronzed and gilded balls. TSIV felt the anxiety too, though not quite as traumatically as BBIV.
"I don't know why you guys are so upset," CGIV complained. "First all you did was moan and complain about losing our balls and wishing that you had them back. Now that we have them back, you're acting like it's the world's worst atrocity. You guys really need to get a grip on yourselves, sort of like the grip I have on our balls right now. You know, playing with them does create a sort of inner relaxation and secure sense of peace."
"Please, take them off and get rid of them," TSIV begged. "It's just too horrible to have them dangling from our ears for everyone to see."
"You liked playing with them before," CGIV retorted in a pouting tone. "I don't see what's wrong with playing with them now."
"Arrgghhh," BBIV screamed. "Get them off! Get them off!"
"What a dork," CGIV complained. "You act like they're killing you! Face it, Bozo. Our balls are now earrings! I like them! I'm going to wear them. You accepted their loss. You know we're a girl now! Just deal with it!"
BBIV began to whimper as TSIV moaned. "Look, it was bad enough losing them. To have them back would have been great if they were in the right place and still worked. To have them back like this is simply rubbing salt into the wound. Please get rid of them."
"NO," CGIV declared. "They'll stay. Our precious manhood is history. We were such a lousy boy we didn't deserve to have balls in the first place. They're a symbol of our new life. We removed that which was troublesome and turned it into a thing of beauty. Our family jewels represent our new life! Look at them. Feel them. Our balls are where they should have been right from the start. We are a girl. We display our balls for all to see. Our bronzed gilded balls are the symbol of our girlhood and will be proudly worn as such. Now shut up and get over it!"
"Are you all right, Heather," Hillary asked the dazed girl.
"Ahh, yeah," Heather responded slowly as her eyes refocused. "It's just a bit traumatic to suddenly find I have my balls back."
"Yeah, but they are cute this way," Leslie giggled. "I love mine. Just think, whenever someone looks at them, they'll have no idea what they really are. Just imagine how freaked out the guys would be if they knew our balls were now our earrings. We may have to try it some time. Especially on some boy who's about to lose his balls and become a girl!"
Heather smiled weakly. The family jewels would stay in her ears. It would just take a bit of getting used to seeing them there whenever she looked in a mirror. It would help to drive home the truth that she was now indeed a girl.
The ride to St. Patrick's Parochial School took fifteen minutes. Leslie chattered away telling Heather which teachers were good, which were tough, and which were pushovers. Hillary was happy to discover there weren't too many pushovers. As she drove, Hillary kept glancing in the mirror to keep tabs on Heather. To her relief, both girls sat in the rear seat unconsciously toying with the family jewels suspended from their ears. Heather was quiet and solemn throughout the trip, but no more than any teenager on her way to her first day in a tougher school.
Upon arrival, Hillary and Joyce accompanied Heather as Leslie led them to the school office. The students they passed in the halls were well groomed and neat. Many greeted Leslie. When they reached the office, Mother Superior Erin Murphy, the school principal, was talking to two teenage boys. While they couldn't hear the conversation, they could tell the boys were being effectively dressed down. As the boys left, Mother Superior Erin Murphy turned to face them. Her face lit up as she greeted Hillary and Joyce with warm hugs. Leslie received a hug after dropping a perfect curtsey.
The woman was physically imposing. She stood about six feet tall and appeared to weigh in at 230 pounds of solid muscle. A bronzed freckled face revealed she spent a great deal of time outside. Gardening was one of Erin Murphy's favorite leisure activities. Her shoulder length red hair framed a face that could be as soft as a baby's or as hard as an executioner which ever the situation warranted. Despite her bulk and size, she was not in the least masculine. Her movements belied a grace and serenity that mocked her size. When the woman turned to face Heather, she noted the look of apprehension upon her pretty face.
Heather was quite apprehensive. She'd watched the boys wither before the nun's verbal onslaught. Heather shivered as she gazed into the nun's steely green eyes. There were a few awkward seconds until Heather realized the nun was waiting. Blushing prettily, Heather did her best to mimic Leslie's dainty curtsey.
"You must be Heather," the principal smiled warmly.
"Yes ma'am," Heather replied meekly.
"Would you object if I gave you a hug," the principal asked.
"No, not at all," Heather replied with an obvious lightening of her apprehensions. "I think I'd like a hug very much."
Mother Superior Erin Murphy needed no further urging as she swept Heather into a warm, caring embrace. "I like affectionate students. They always get along well with the staff and other students. Welcome to St. Patrick's Parochial School."
The next few minutes were spent in polite conversation centering around the academic and extracurricular activities of the school. As the bell rang signaling that all students should report to their home rooms, Mother Superior Erin Murphy dismissed Leslie to go to her home room. Leslie hesitated for a moment and glanced questioningly at Heather. On her first day she had met with the principal just as Heather had, then had been dismissed at first bell. It was obvious this was not to be the case with Heather. A bit flustered, Leslie again curtseyed and left. Hillary and Joyce took their leave once Leslie was gone. This left a very nervous Heather and Mother Superior Erin Murphy alone.
"I usually dismiss new students with the first bell," the principal stated firmly. "But in your case, I'd like to get to know you better first. Put your coat on, I'd like to show you my garden."
Heather slipped her fuzzy off-white fake fur coat on as Mother Superior Erin Murphy retrieved her coat and put it on. Heather was unsure of what to expect as she meekly followed the nun outside. In a few moments they were safely away from the school and on the grounds of the adjoining convent.
"Heather, while we're alone like this there is no need for formalities," Mother Superior Erin Murphy stated in a kind voice. "Please call me Erin."
"All right," Heather whispered obviously intimidated by the familiarity.
"I really like your earrings," Erin stated in a most pointed manner as Heather blushed and nervously reached up to fondle one golden orb. "Leslie has a similar pair, as do several other pretty girls in the school."
"They're very special," Heather replied softly as she decided the woman knew exactly what they were.
"I'd say they are," Erin laughed as they walked through a large ornamental garden lawn towards a wooded area. "How do you feel about them?"
"I'm really not sure," Heather relaxed and answered honestly as she continued to toy with her unique earring. "I just received them this morning. I didn't know I'd be getting them."
"I sometimes wish they'd have been able to do that with mine," Erin stated softly as she eyed Heather.
Heather took two steps and stopped. Then she turned to look squarely in the nun's eyes to see if she was joking. "What do you mean," Heather finally asked.
"I mean that forty years ago I was a rowdy thirteen year old boy," the nun confessed. "I discovered a secluded spot down by Plum Creek that was perfect for skinny dipping. One day I was swimming when I heard noise coming through the brush. I scrambled out of the water and into the bushes just as three girls a bit older than me came into the clearing. They stripped and dove in the water. I spent the next hour playing with myself while they frolicked. I spent the next few weeks spying on those girls while I lay secure and well hidden doing my thing. Then one day I saw a little man dressed in green standing nearby watching the girls. With my Irish background I knew he had to be a Leprechaun. He had his pants down about his ankles, if you know what I mean. He was easy to catch."
Heather's eyes grew wide as the nun spoke. The story she told was all too familiar. She had to be talking about Patrick Seamus O'Shea, the Leprechaun! The little man had told Heath about the last time a boy had caught him. He'd been spying on some girls skinny dipping in a stream forty years ago. The boy's name had been Eric Murphy! "W... were you Eric Murphy," Heather finally gasped. "The Leprechaun you caught, was he named Patrick Seamus O'Shea?"
"So you met the old rascal too," Erin chuckled. "He's still just as devious as ever. It took me years to come to grips with my change. I bet he really hates the fact you've adjusted so well."
"I guess so," Heather began. "How did he change you into a girl? How did you become a nun? What did you wish for?"
"Slow down, girl," Erin laughed as the reached a bench under some leafless trees. The morning sun shined brightly upon them as they sat, comfortably warming the area. "I'll tell you all about my encounter with Patrick Seamus O'Shea." With that the unlikely duo settled onto the bench. After a deep sigh, Erin began her story.
"When I caught him, we made quite a commotion, The girls screamed, grabbed their clothes, and ran off. I pinned him to the round and quickly subdued the surprised Leprechaun and sat upon him. The little man cried in a thick Irish brogue as he stopped struggling."
"If you value you life, boy, let me go now;
or sorry you will be, I make this dire vow.
If you doubt my powers, you'll soon rue this day;
or my name isn't Patrick Seamus O'Shea"
"I gazed at the little man. He had funny pointed elf ears. I've often wondered if the writers of Star Trek modeled the Vulcan from Leprechaun."
"I know you're a Leprechaun, Patrick Seamus O'Shea," I told him. "I won't let you go until you promise to grant me three wishes!"
"I guess he knew he was truly caught," Erin continued. "Besides, as you obviously know, his magic powers were negated by daylight. He was powerless until the sun went down. With a sigh he stopped resisting."
"All right, I promise to grant you three wishes;
but please let me restore my lowered britches.
But then perhaps, young man, are you one of those;
who desire to love men and add to my woes?"
"The little man knew how to push my buttons," Erin went on. "I almost slugged him but thankfully realized he was just trying to get me angry in order to escape. Like you I knew that once a human accepted a promise from a Leprechaun, the little man could never break his word although he would try to twist what whatever was wished, I told him he wouldn't trick me so easily and that I intended to hold him to his promise. After being released the little man rolled over and quicky tugged his green britches back into place. Then he turned to face me and laughed as he shook his head."
"After all these years you would think that I'd learn;
alas my doom, for pretty lassies I yearn.
Dear Ireland I left because of this weakness;
in America I'd hoped to find success.
Alas the drastic change did me little good;
though the girls are less shy of their maidenhood.
Twas in County Cork I spied two cute nude girls;
a lad caught me while bewitched by their red curls.
He was a skinny lonely lad much like you;
and caught me by surprise in the morning dew.
Shaun Kelly's three wishes gave him a new life
'til now I've been cautious to avoid such strife.
This sad day my luck ran out, much to my woe;
young Shaun caught me about sixty years ago."
"I asked him if he always spoke in rhymes," Erin stated. "Then I asked him how old he was because he didn't look old enough to have been captured sixty years before I had. The Leprechaun chuckled and sized me up.”
"Why lad I am four hundred and ten years old;
and still far from my grave, oh so dark and cold.
We Leprechauns always in this manner talk;
it's you humans whose harsh phrases make one balk.
Now hurry dear boy, with your wishes, make haste;
I give you five minutes or the wishes waste.
Your three wishes can only pertain to you;
and the wishes don't become instantly true.
By nature, is powered, Leprechaun magic;
time is needed to avoid outcome tragic.
Leprechaun magic shifts things out of balance
so adjustments, the world, must make allowance.
The bigger the wish, the longer changes take;
to avoid undo questions someone might make.
When fulfilled by nature are your wishes three;
a gold Leprechaun coin will be left for thee.
Under your pillow the fine coin you will find;
to always of your wishes you to remind.
This, Eric Murphy, must clearly understand;
so please do not make any wishes too grand."
"Yes, I understand. I replied as my mind worked to think of three good wishes," Erin continued. "Then I asked him if I could have a little more time. The little man laughed and spoke."
"Are you a foolish boy? Is that your first wish?
Or are you overwhelmed by this magic dish?"
"NO, that's not my first wish," I exclaimed. "I'm thinking, I'm thinking." The little man chuckled and waited impatiently, dancing about like a jitter bug. We both knew he was attempting to befuddle me."
"The first thing wished for was to get my mother off my back about becoming a priest," Erin explained. "I didn't want her hurt or killed or anything like that. I just want her not to hassle me so much about becoming a priest. You see, my dad was killed in the Korean war. My mother's brothers had been killed in the Second World War. She didn't want me getting killed in another war. She thought if I became a priest, I'd be safe. I was a tough guy and wanted no part of becoming a priest. I was delighted when the Leprechaun spoke."
"Your wish is acceptable, it will be done;
but do not ask how, you foolish human son.
Your wish is now sent to the plane magical;
which surrounds all things like weather mystical."
"I was a little upset because the Leprechaun anticipated my question about how the magic would make my wish come true," Erin continued. "The second thing I wished for was to live a long, healthy, happy, life. The Leprechaun giggled as he answered."
"You must understand this, oh boy so haughty;
to be happy all the time would be naughty.
The times that are good will far outweigh those bad;
the sad times will be smothered by those times glad.
So you will be happy at most times I'm sure;
these are the limits, or nature can't endure.
The other parts of your second wish are fine;
healthy, happy, and a long life will be thine.
Your wish is acceptable, it will be done;
but do not ask how, you foolish human son.
Your wish is now sent to the plane magical;
which surrounds all things like weather mystical."
"I was delighted that my first two wishes would be granted," Erin went on. "I became a little dreamy as I thought about my last wish. As I mentioned, I was a rather horny boy so naturally my last wish had to be about sex. The last thing I wished for was to make it a habit to get into some girls' panties every day. The Leprechaun leaped into the air and clapped his hands, yelling as he ran off into the underbrush."
"Your wish is acceptable, it will be done;
but do not ask how, you foolish human son.
Your wish is now sent to the plane magical;
which surrounds all things like weather mystical.
Three wishes I granted, I'm free from your hold;
tonight your wishes to my wants I will mold!"
"I guess I should have been worried," Erin continued. "But at thirteen you think you're invincible. I merely chuckled and watched the little man disappear. I arrogantly assumed the idea that the Leprechaun could warp my wishes was just another ploy by the little man to rattle me."
"It was getting late so I headed home," Erin stated. "My mother had supper ready so I wolfed it down. After doing my chores I had to sit with her and read the bible, which was not one of my favorite activities back then. She insisted on a nightly reading as preparation for my entry into seminary."
"My sleep was troubled. I had a strange dream, almost like I was sitting in a theater watching a movie. I saw the Leprechaun dancing about a fire in a dry cave. A fire in the middle of the cavern made the dangling tree roots seem alive. The shadow of the Leprechaun on the walls of the cave looked hideous and evil as he danced about the roaring blaze laughing and singing.
"T'is sin to waste magic on a mere mortal;
and drain my life's essence through nature's portal.
Oh Mother Gia heed my Leprechaun call;
I must bring about this haughty boy's downfall!
To the wording of his wishes we'll stay true;
yet I must make them something that he will rue!
By his grief my lost essence will be restored;
like a vampire I'll feed on his just reward.
His wishes I must twist to not what he meant;
into a sweet teen girl we will change his scent.
With his three wishes we need a conjunction,
insure as a male he must never function!
About this fact he will surely have no joy;
when his scent is no longer that of a boy.
Let us give the lad an experience strange;
see how manly he is after a sex change!
The first wish to get his mother off his back;
without harm to her so the whip she won't crack.
Out of love does his mother discipline him;
but her chances of succeeding are quite slim.
To have the lad arrested and sent to jail;
I'd like that but with other wishes won't sail.
What can we do to make this wish be so right;
a twisted answer will come with fresh insight.
I know! His dear Mother about him does sob;
so send her away to take a great new job!
In St. Patrick's orphanage Eric will live;
a life in girlhood to him the nuns will give!
This lad has no desire to be a good priest;
why not a Mother Superior at least!
The wish for a long, happy, and healthy life;
all possible if he becomes a nun, Christ's wife!
As a homely girl he'll be sad for a while;
but some day Erin as a good nun will smile.
Upon his anguish and frustration I'll feast;
to restore my essence like a wily beast!
His boyish lust, that ability soon nil;
his last wish will be a delight to fulfill!
A habit to be in girls' panties each day;
will be done in a most unusual way.
He hoped to enjoy a pretty girl's sweet charms;
without setting off adult worry alarms.
All this can be done while putting him in place;
he will wear plain cotton panties trimmed in lace!
Since girl's panties was the habit he wanted;
he'll be wearing a nun's habit, most vaunted.
All three of his wishes will have been granted;
in a manner that is Leprechaun slanted.
From crude boy to good girl let Erin transform;
in this way the unruly lad will reform!"
"It was the worst nightmare I'd ever had," Erin added softly. "But it wasn't over. The Leprechaun laughed so hard he clutched his stomach and fell to the floor before the roaring fire. He laughed so hard tears trickled from his eyes. When he regained control, he turned his head and seemed to be looking directly at me as he spoke."
"Until my life essence is again complete;
in this den I'll be trapped with little to eat.
Through Mother Gia my cruel plot must shine;
I must be patient until vengeance is mine.
Boys seek to catch Leprechauns for wishes three;
will young boys learn not to mess with folks wee?
Whenever they catch us we twist their desire;
those aggressive boys never children will sire!
Through me Eric Murphy will soon be no more;
another pesky boy, I've silenced his roar.
As a lover he wanted many a girl;
Now it's him whom forever in skirts will swirl!
Erin Murphy's beauty won't make boys' knees weak;
and few boys his girlish affection will seek.
I know you hear me despite a tummy sour;
know, lad, your wishes have been granted this hour."
Erin fell silent and shivered at the cruel memory. Heather shivered too, because the Leprechaun's rhymes unrelated by Erin were very similar to those he'd used during Heath's encounter. Heather told the nun of the similarities and then repeated her Leprechaunic rhymes. Erin also wondered at the similarities.
"If you don't mind my asking," Heather inquired. "How did you wind up as a nun?"
"Just as the Leprechaun predicted," Erin replied. "My mother lost her job the next day. We were poor to begin with, so now we had nothing. My love life went from peeking to absolutely nothing. Mother looked for work but found nothing. We were on the verge of being evicted when a friend suggested that since she was a good cook, she sign on as a cook with a lumbering outfit. That's what happened. She landed a super job in a lumber camp way out in the mountains of Idaho. Since there were no schools nearby and it would be a transient life plus the fact that she still wanted me to become a priest and the environment of a lumber camp is certainly not conducive to that, she made arrangements for me to stay at here at the St. Patrick's orphanage. She agreed to pay room and board for me and instructed the nuns to see that I became a priest."
"They tried to set me on the chaste path, but I wanted no parts of it," Erin continued. "I received several spankings for sneaking out at night to try to peek in the girls' dorm but didn't stop. They finally locked me in the attic. That's how I became a girl."
Erin laughed to see Heather's confused expression. "I climbed out the dormer window and headed over to the rain spouting to try to shimmy down. I was sliding over the edge of the roof when the old spouting tore loose. I remember yelling as I fell, clutching frantically at the tumbling spouting. I woke up in the orphanage infirmary. A piece of spouting had ripped my masculinity from my body. My other injuries were light. Back then we didn't have plastic surgery like they do today. They simply cleaned off the shredded tissue and sewed me back together so I look like a doll down there."
"Then since I was still only thirteen and had been such a terrible boy, the nuns decided it would be best if they told everyone I'd been killed in the fall," Erin continued. "They felt my death would serve as a warning to any other boys, which it did. Of course they notified my mother of my injuries and their plan to turn me into a girl. She approved after she found out what I'd been doing. I was placed on female hormones and sent to a convent orphanage in a neighboring city for a year to be trained in how to behave as a proper girl. It was sheer hell, but what choice did I have. Without my male parts I certainly wasn't a boy. By the end of the year, I had accepted my fate to be a girl for the rest of my life. They sent back here as Erin Murphy. As you can see, I'm not a very pretty female. I never had the problems with boys that the prettier girls had. I certainly didn't want to date boys. I knew it was all the fault of the Leprechaun. When I tried to tell anyone they laughed at me so I finally kept my secret. From his rhymes, I knew I was destined to become a nun and a Mother Superior, so after another year of frustration as a homely girl, I jumped into being a novitiate with both feet. As you can see, I succeeded. I'm happy being what I am. I can tell that you're happy being what you've become. It's just so good to finally tell my story to someone that understands."
"I know what you mean," Heather replied. "But I may have a surprise for you. Yesterday I made a birthday wish and blew out my candles. I wished the Leprechaun whose magic changed me into a girl would have to reveal himself to Mother Superior Erin Murphy so she believes my story and that he must use his magic to help change any unhappy inhibited males into sweet happy girls if Mother Superior Erin Murphy or I wish it to happen,"
"Well, if there is any justice in this world, your wish should come true," Erin chucked. "I'm sure Patrick Seamus O'Shea is hurting from your adapting to girlhood so quickly."
"That was true 'till the young wench's birthday wish;
I've unlimited magic to make boys swish!"
Erin and Heather both gasped and turned to peer into the underbrush a few feet behind the bench. The swaggering thick Irish brogue left no doubt in the minds as to who was speaking. Patrick Seamus O'Shea stepped from his concealment.
"You got one over on me, you sassy miss;
someday I may learn humans not to dismiss.
Your birthday wish, I must do as you request;
change boys that you choose into girls is my quest.
"It's been a long time, Mr. O'Shea," Erin chuckled. "I never properly thanked you for fulfilling my wishes. So thank you. But I'm puzzled. Leprechauns are resistant to magic and humans certainly are not magic casters. But I'm curious, how did Heather’s wish effect you?"
"It was my own fault that a victim I am;
I went past my limits, got into a jam.
After Erin I'd been warned not to transex;
but on Heather I did it and earned a hex.
It takes great power to cast sex change magic;
drains all my strength, left weak, a thing quite tragic.
Great magic unfocused 'bout the victim swirls;
yet connected to me through the ether whirls.
The victims anger sends magic back to me;
as it returns, so does my strength, 'till I'm free.
Heather did not stay angry, a thing most rare;
and I must say her wish at first did me scare.
Because my magic lingered; Heather; about;
Nature honored her wish, of that is no doubt.
Since it was my magic and 'bout me she wished;
all flew back to me, through the ether it swished.
In my weak state her wish I could not deny;
also I was not strong enough to comply.
Nature, though, knew of my paradoxal plight;
so great powers were focused to set things right.
To Mother Superior Erin Murphy;
as well as to Heather, I must pay this fee.
unhappy inhibited males will be changed;
into sweet happy girls as you have arranged.
To make such a wish you must call out my name;
then the boy to be altered to a girl's frame.
Your wish, like all magic, must rhyme when you speak;
so to stay in rhythm your words you must tweak.
Plan ahead of how to properly incant;
because in this format your wish you must chant:
This is my wish, oh Patrick Seamus O'Shea;
change (the chosen male's name) to a girl I say;
cast the transformation spell without delay;
let nature a suitable course chart the way;
let magic make him a girl, begin today!
Your properly cast wish will be heard by me;
I'll be able to tap the magic for free.
You will hear the spell cast to know it is done;
Twill be in this format, a magical gun:
By your wish (your name) I'm your Leprechaun hired;
let (the chosen male's name) a girl be rewired;
to stay a boy he is no longer desired;
so nature, let this lad from boyhood be fired;
soon as a girl he'll be happily attired!
To make your wish true that is all you need do;
follow my instructions to see the deed through.
Now back to my cozy warren I must slip;
before some rascally young boy me does trip."
As the little man turned to make his getaway Heather nudged Erin and winked as she stood up.
"This is my wish, oh Patrick Seamus O'Shea;
change Leprechaun O'Shea to a girl I say;
cast the transformation spell without delay;
let nature a suitable course chart the way;
let magic make him a girl, begin today!"
The little man screamed, covered his ears, and fell to his knees.
"Oh no, nature, say this dire wish cannot be;
transformation magic can't be used on me!"
The man fell forward onto his stomach, kicked his legs and hammered his fists into the ground as he cried and moaned. To Erin and Heather it was obvious he was throwing a royal temper tantrum. Finally he settled and lay still for a few moments. Then he slowly rose to his feet, dusted himself off, and turned back to Erin and Heather. The little man stood as tall as he could and took in a deep breath as he mustered every ounce of his courage. A shiver passed through his body as he steeled himself to do that which he certainly did not want to do. It was obvious he was being forced to comply with Heather's wish. Slowly he made his way back to Erin and Heather. When he reached them, he spoke in a quavering voice.
"Nature has decided to honor your wish;
so I am stuck with this unsavory dish.
I'm told I'll benefit from this refashion;
So that I will treat changees with compassion.
I have no choice but to do as requested;
and I do so knowing that I've been bested."
The little man paused, swallowed the bile he felt rising in his throat, screwed his eyes tightly shut, and began to cast the spell.
"By your wish Heather I'm your Leprechaun hired;
let Leprechaun O'Shea a girl be rewired;
To stay a boy he is no longer desired;
so nature, let this lad from boyhood be fired;
soon as a girl he'll be happily attired!"
With that he dropped his head to his chest and sighed. Then he raised weary eyes to peer intently at Heather as he softly spoke.
"The magic has been cast, sassy Miss Heather;
now I ask you to tell me why and whether."
"Before I answer your questions, I need to know you really cast the spell. I'm not sure I believe you," Heather replied warily. "I thought your magic was negated by daylight and you had to wait until nightfall to cast your spells."
The little man grew agitated and a look of desperation appeared upon his face as he spoke.
"It was true as you say till your wish was made;
now I'm empowered to cast without night's shade.
I can feel the cast magic starting to work;
I must hurry home to endure this dire quirk.
So my sex-change occurs in my cozy den;
hurry answer my question, pesky maiden."
"All right, I believe you cast the spell. Now I'll answer your question although the answer is obvious," Heather replied. "First, you obviously have a fascination and curiosity for females. Every time you were captured by a human it was while wantonly peeking at nubile females. Secondly, you certainly qualify as an unhappy inhibited male. What better way is there to satisfy your curiosity and fascination about females than to become one yourself? After all, you did it to Erin and me and how many others before us. Turnabout is fair play, so, I decided that you would be better off becoming a girl just like us. Besides, you'll be happier as a girl."
The Leprechaun twitched and began to hop back and forth between his feet. Tears filled his eyes as he dropped to his knees and clasped his hands pleadingly as he spoke.
"Your words cut through my bluster like a cutlas;
I stand guilty as charged, my wise little lass.
Now I kneel before you in humble appeal;
I promise to be good, please, your wish repeal."
"Patrick Seamus O'Shea you know that can't be done," Heather replied. "You told me to be careful about what I wish for because it could not be undone. You will join Erin and I in skirts."
As Heather spoke, she and Erin could see his snug fitting green tunic and pants became loose at his waist but obviously snug over his hips. Twin lumps upon his chest began to push out his tunic.
The little man, or what remained of the little man turned and fled into the underbrush. His/her voice actually raised an octave in pitch as he/she spoke.
"Woe is me, alas, whatever shall I do;
T'is fate, now, in dresses, life I must pursue.
I must hurry home fast before it's too late;
my masculinity fades at rapid rate.
Heather and Erin, heed my words as I flee;
for the wish spell to work, please listen to me.
I'm now Patti Sherry O'Shea, to my shame;
In future spells you must use my girlish name!"
"That was an excellent first use of the spell," Erin chuckled as she gave Heather a welcome hug. "Patrick Seamus O'Shea certainly deserved to become Patti Sherry O'Shea. I'm concerned that perhaps the magic is too powerful. If every male we wish to be a girl starts changing so quickly we could create a lot of problems."
"I don't think that will be a problem," Heather giggled in reply. "I remember he told me nature had to make wishes come true slowly so as not to create any problems. With boys who have families and friends and records, the changes will occur slowly as they did for us. But in his case, there is no family and there are no records. You and I are probably the only ones who know he's here. We may be the only humans who knows he exists. So nature doesn't have to worry about creating any problems by making his change quickly. Why I'm even willing to bet that nature is delighted with my wish and will turn Patti into a real female, fully capable of having children!"
"You're one bright young lady," Erin chuckled. "I don't think I'll take your bet. I think you're right. Patti Sherry O'Shea should have an interesting life as a female. I'm willing to bet it won't be too long before she'll be seeking male companionship."
"That I'd like to see," Heather laughed then blushed sheepishly. "Not really see it, but just to see her dating a boy."
"I understand, Heather," Erin replied with a chuckle.
"Now that I think about it, maybe turning Patrick into a girl wasn't a good idea," Heather decided as she bit her lip with apprehension. "After all, he was such a loner he has little idea of what it will take to live as a female Leprechaun. I may have made his miserable life even worse."
"Your concern is quite admirable," Erin answered. "You make a very valid point. However, I think deep in his heart Mr. O'Shea was good. I don't think nature will let anything bad happen to him."
The two sat silently for a few moments contemplating their changed lives and that of Patti Sherry O'Shea. They both wished for a sign of some sort to let them know Patti was going to be all right. The two pseudo females sighed and looked across the lawn as it curved along the forest. Their sight focused upon a massive oak tree about a hundred feet away from where they sat. The top of the tree soared close to a hundred fifty feet into the sky. The mighty branches stretched out nearly eighty feet from the humongous trunk that had to be fifteen feet in circumference.
"That's some tree," Heather whispered as she nodded towards the old oak.
"Yes, it's probably been growing since before Columbus," Erin replied. "I've always loved that tree. When I was a teenage girl, I loved sitting in the lower branches and reading all about King Arthur and Guinevere. I pretended it was my castle at Camelot. There's something magical and eternal about oak trees. Especially oak trees with mistletoe growing in its branches like this one has. Mistletoe frequently grows in oaks in England but it's extremely rare in this country. The ancient druids considered oak trees and mistletoe to be inherently magical."
Just then a majestic buck stepped around the massive trunk of the oak. The pair watched in quiet awe as they counted twelve points on its antlers as it surveyed the area for danger. Finally it stepped forth from the cover of the oak to begin nibbling on a patch of late blooming fall clover. In a few seconds, a beautiful doe stepped from the tree followed by a timid fawn that was nearly a yearling. The deer family ate quietly for nearly an hour while Erin and Heather watched. Finally, filled, they returned to the forest.
"I think we just had our sign that Patti will be all right," Erin stated as she stood. "Now I think we'd better return to the school. Just remember, when we're alone you can call me Erin. All other times, I'm Mother Superior Erin Murphy."
"I'll remember," Heather replied as they began the trek back to the school.
Heather and Mother Superior Erin Murphy both knew it would be foolish to tell anyone of their latest encounter with the Leprechaun or the truth about Heather's wish. As they entered the classroom, Mother Superior Murphy glared at the students. The normal restrained babble of the classroom fell silent as the stern faced Mother Superior faced the students.
"This is Heather Reilly," Mother Superior Murphy stated. "She has been enrolled here because of behavior problems. Suffice it to say she served a great deal of detention in her previous school. Her grades also left a lot to be desired. This pretty young miss standing by my side was nearly a juvenile delinquent, so much so that the police had been called out to her home on Halloween. Fortunately no charges were filed. Heather was, and I empathize was, an out and out tomboy who played roughly with the boys and held her own. Until this weekend, she cannot remember the last time she wore a skirt or a dress. The police involvement was the last straw as far as her parents were concerned. They decided a major attitude adjustment was in order. She spent last week in a clinic receiving treatment to reorient her life."
The class was dumbfounded by the speech they were hearing. The pretty girl standing so quietly beside Mother Superior Murphy certainly bore no resemblance to the description they’d just heard. Heather played her new role to the hilt, appearing quite demure and shy. It took all of Leslie's will power to keep a straight face. She knew the truth about Heather, and while everything Mother Superior Murphy was saying was true, it left the rest of the class under a false conception.
"All that has now changed," Mother Superior Murphy continued. "Until the end of this school year, Heather is going to live the life of a sugar and spice girl. She will learn to behave like a proper young miss. Also this past week her father received a promotion that required her parents to move to Africa. Since Mr. Reilly works for Balkut Engineering which is owned by Leslie Balkut's mother, Ms Balkut offered to assume guardianship of Heather while they were gone once Heather was released from the clinic. That is how Miss Reilly has come to be at our school. I'm telling you this for two reasons. First, so you don't hassle Heather about her past. You already know everything about her you need to know. I want no one asking her about her past. Secondly, I expect each of you to help Heather make the adjustment to life as a sugar and spice girl. If you see ANY inappropriate behavior, I expect it to be reported at once. Is everyone clear on this matter?"
"Yes, Mother Superior Murphy," the class responded in unison.
"Excellent," Mother Superior Murphy replied with a smile. "Now, since Heather is living with Leslie, I'd like Leslie to be Heather's guide during her first days at St. Patrick's Parochial School. Miss Green, would you please rearrange the class seating so that Heather can sit beside Leslie. I thank you for your listening and fully expect no problems from anyone in this matter." With that, the domineering woman left the room.
Miss Green switched several students to other seats so Heather could sit beside Leslie. At lunch, several of the prissier girls crowded about Heather and Leslie. It didn't take long for Heather to become swept up in their conversation. All in all, the rest of the day went smoothly.
For Heather, the only disconcerting thing was the manner the boys in the class keep checking out the cute new girl. The fact that Heath had done exactly the same thing to new girls arriving in his class made her feel guilty for her past transgressions. Judging from the lecherous glances she received, Heather felt sure several boys would use her as the object of their sexual fantasies that evening. That knowledge made her budding breasts tingle with excitement. While the resulting sensations were quite pleasant, the fact that she was responding sexually to boys unnerved her quite a bit. Mentally, she was far from ready to accept a relationship with a boy.
The Leprechaun Patrick Seamus O'Shea only fled a short distance before his unwanted sex-change fully hit. As bones realigned and external genitals were sucked in to morph into their feminine counterparts, the little person collapsed onto the forest floor in agony. Fortunately, the ordeal only lasted five minutes. As the pain diffused, Patti shivered and slowly pulled herself into a sitting position. A Leprechaun is quite attuned to its body so she knew the change was complete without checking.
Unlike the boys she'd helped into girlhood, she was now a complete female. Inside her tummy was a fully functional uterus and ovaries. Pert breasts jiggled upon her chest as she moved. As her vision cleared, she noted that even her green clothes had changed. Her tunic was now a mini-dress and her pants were now tights. The coarse woolen undershirt had become a satiny sports bra. The woollen undershorts were now satin panties. Slowly, she rose to her feet, dusted off the dried leaves, and began to trudge slowly back to her den.
As she walked, Patti began to understand why she'd been changed into a girl. For centuries, an overabundance of testosterone had made Patrick Seamus O'Shea an ornery man who's fits of pique and mischievousness made even his fellow normally unsociable Leprechauns want to avoid him. Eventually, his clan had ostracized him and he became a lonely hermit. Meanwhile, his unsatiated libido drove him to seek out sexual release amongst humans. He became a Leprechaun Peeping Tom and took his needs in hand. Of course, such preoccupation left him susceptible to adolescent boys who were doing as he did. Patti realized that Erin and Heather had encountered crusty old Patrick in that very manner.
Now for a Leprechaun to be captured is the utmost in humiliation. In his testosterone driven machismo, it was unbearable for him to think that a male existed who could capture him. In his shame and anger, Patrick had lashed out at the boys who captured him by twisting their wishes and stripping them of their boyhood. Since they had discovered him while peeping at girls, the boys had to have been peeping too. It seemed only fitting that Patrick change the boys into girls while granting their wishes. It was only now that the testosterone was finally gone from her body that Patti saw all this. It made her feel quite ashamed. She understood how her life as Patrick had been a sham and a farce. Four hundred fifty years wasted because of his balls! Now they were gone, now she could change from a cranky curmudgeon to a decent being. The loneliness and anger Patrick had endured all these lone centuries was now unbearable. Only how could she change her lifestyle? There was no way she could return to her clan or even to Ireland. Being thrown out of the clan had been degrading. To return as a female and have other Leprechauns know the great Patrick Seamus O'Shea had been trapped and changed into a female by his own magic was simply too horrid to contemplate.
Upon reaching her den she forlornly entered. Looking about the dreary place, only reinforced all that had come clear about Patrick's wretched existence. Patti knew she couldn't continue to live here, but where could she go? Who could understand the changes she'd endured? Who could possibly sympathize and be a true friend?
Then another desire began to form. A pleasant tingling began in her breasts and slowly spread throughout her body. A second, even more intense arousal began deep in the pit of her now girlish tummy. It took a moment to come into focus but Patti quickly realized she was horny. She wanted to be with a... a... male!
The realization that she had truly become a female in every aspect now struck home with full force. Patti stumbled to her poor excuse for a bed and collapsed upon it in tears. What was she going to do? Who could she turn to for help?
"Oh Patti Sherry O'Shea you need not cry;
just open your heart and let it freely fly.
For far far too long have you been self-consumed;
For you it's to be a normal life resumed.
I've tried for years to show you the happy way;
you never listened to what I had to say.
It took a young lass with a heart of pure gold;
to cut through your macho defenses of old.
Twas a sweet lass not always a pretty girl;
a rascally boy you put in skirts to twirl.
With the aid of another done years ago;
together, you, how to be happy they'll show!"
Patti stiffened as she listened to the familiar voice of Mother Gia, the sentient aspect of nature. Suddenly she knew the answer to her dilemma. She had to seek out Heather Lynne Reilly and Mother Superior Erin Murphy. They would be her friends. They would understand.
Quickly, Patti gathered up what little clothing and few possessions that were worth salvaging from amongst those she'd accumulated during her many dour years. Everything fit into two battered carpet bags. Upon exiting her hobbit-like hole, she turned and cast a spell that collapsed the tiny cavern. Then she began the trek to the nunnery.
It was dark by the time Patti reached the grounds of St. Patrick's. Carefully she made her way to the small cottage that served as the home of the Mother Superior. Creeping to each window, she finally saw Mother Superior Erin Murphy sitting at her desk. Gently she rapped on the glass.
Mother Superior Erin Murphy turned towards the window to see a frightened tiny cute elfin face peering at her. Startled at first she caught her breath, then recognized the femininely transformed visage as Patti Sherry O'Shea. At once she went to the window and opened it.
"May I please come in, I’m an ungrateful whelp,
but there is no one else can I turn for help”
Patti asked quite deferentially. The gruff baritone voice of the Leprechaun had become a dulcet soprano although the Irish brogue was as thick as before.
"Of course," Erin replied as she reached out to pluck the tattered carpet bags inside after which the waif-like Leprechaun climbed through the window. Erin noted the change in Patti's clothes with a smile. It was quite obvious that the magical transformation had been quite thorough. "What can I do for you?"
"I apologize for all the hurt I've done,
I was bad, my maleness thought changing boys fun;
I can see that now that I've become a female;
the way I was living life was a sad tale.
Now a girl, it is companionship I need,
friendship only from my loneliness be freed.
I can't go back to my people, I was bad;
now it is living alone that makes me sad.
I've lived alone for so long, to have friends I seek,
you and Heather, only ones on me did peek.
I've been told that I can trust you to help me,
so to you I’ve come to make this heart felt plea.
Erin saw tears forming in the eyes of the trembling Leprechaun. Her heart went out to Patti. Then inspiration struck. "There may be a something we can do, but it will require a major change for you. It may even strip you of your magical powers. Are you prepared for such a sacrifice?"
"Certainly my powers I don’t want to lose,
but I know also I can't your help refuse.
To go on the way I've been living is hell,
I'll see if I can handle it, your plan tell."
"Well, there is no way you can freely associate with Heather and I," Erin explained. "Other humans would be bound to discover you. So to let us help you, you'll have to disguise yourself. The best way to do that is to appear as a human."
"Appear as human, that's simply horrendous!"
Such a fate to me would be most odorous.
Unfortunately, I don't see any choice
so agreement to your plan I’ll sadly voice.
Patti looked worried as she furrowed her brow in thought. A silent nudge from the ether pointed out that Patti had no other options.
"Can I do that without making me a fool,
Me to be human would seem a fate most cruel.
I’ll sadly do it for my life’s on the line,
Please just tell me once I’ve changed all will be fine.”
"Please don't be offended," Erin began. "But your social skills are atrocious. If you became a human female, you'd very quickly alienate everyone. We'd also have to explain your Irish accent. You'd have to assume the identity of a child or young teenager, newly arrived in this country."
"I understand and I will take no offense,
just do it quickly for I must cross this fence.”
Patti replied as she shivered at the idea of assuming human form. All his life Patrick had detested humans and sought to avoid interacting with them.
"I sincerely doubt that the magic that changed you to a female would allow you to assume the identity of a human boy," Erin stated. "But I think you could manage to become a convincing human girl. In fact, if you can do so, perhaps you could assume the form of a 14-year-old Irish lass. We could tell everyone you are my recently orphaned cousin from Ireland who has come to live here with me since I'm the only family either of us has."
"You'd do that for me I ask with disbelief,
after all I did to you was to bring grief.”
"Yes," Erin replied. "I've long ago accepted my life as a female. My only regret was that I never had any children. For that I blamed you. This way, you could become the child I never had."
"I think I'd like that, for your heart is most pure,
To become you niece would all my concerns cure.
Patti replied softly while blushing. She could feel the love and compassion emanating from Erin. It was something Patrick had always denied himself, yet now it felt so warm and right.
"Into the ether this idea I’ll send,
that all my past magic disruptions might mend.”
With that, Patti sat upon the floor with her legs crossed. Lowering her head she closed her eyes and communed with the ether. After a few moments she sighed and opened her eyes.
"I can cast a spell to a human become,
never to revert Leprechaun is fearsome,
all my magical powers will go away
a human girl I’d be in every way.”
"That's a big sacrifice," Erin responded. "Is it one you're willing to make?"
"Part of me shouts no, but another says yes,
but to do so would create a major mess.
So to dismiss your kind suggestion I must
for from my past promises I can not bust.”
"Why not," Erin asked obviously perplexed.
"I've been committed by Heather's spell to help,
in making a girl of any boyish whelp.
I can't begin life anew as a sweet girl,
to my Leprechaun commitment I must twirl.”
"I can understand that," Erin replied. "But I know I'd gladly release you from that commitment and I'm sure Heather would do the same."
"I thank you, but there’s no way I can do it,
To grant Heather’s wish my whole life is commit."
Patti answered sadly.
"Are you sure," Erin pointedly asked. "Didn't you say the ether left you know that you could trust me to come up with a solution?"
“A spell to change me and keep Heather’s wish true,
with help granted from the magic ether blue.
If the correct enduring spell can be done,
then to a girls human form I can be spun!”
Patti replied with a hint of excitement.
"Well, GIRL, what are you waiting for," Erin asked. "Go for it!"
"If with the right spell magic can twist, I will,
becoming a girl won’t be a bitter pill.
“To select the precise wording I must dwell,
so I don’t make a mess of this magic spell.”
Patti replied happily, then took few moments to collect his thoughts.
"Take all the time you need," Erin answered with growing excitement.
Patti sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room and closed her eyes. For several minutes the now female Leprechaun sat without moving as she concentrated on the correct wording for a spell that would allow continued fulfillment of Heather's wish while freeing Patti from being the magical conduit. Finally she sighed and fell back on the floor, obviously exhausted by the involved thought process.
"I have the right wording to make the spell good,
please some water and a candle if you would."
Patti whispered.
Erin scurried to her kitchen and quicky returned with a glass of water, a candle in an old-fashioned candle holder, and a book of matches. While Patti emptied the glass in one long steady swallow, Erin lit the candle. Then they swapped the empty glass for the burning candle. Erin stepped back and watched in fascination as Patti placed the candle on the floor in the center of the room. The spritely 450-year-old Leprechaun began to dance about the tiny flame in an intricate pattern that Erin knew to be quite ancient and mysterious. The nun felt privileged to be one of the few humans ever to see a Leprechaunic magic dance. Patti began to chant.
"Oh Mother Gia please heed my plaintive call;
this will be my last spell as I give my all.
This magic will be the suicidal knife;
through this spell I sacrifice Leprechaun life.
Enable Heather and Erin to change boys;
without my assistance, to sweet girlish joys.
Though my last magic request does seem quite odd;
Any living thing can be a focus rod.
The great oak tree by St. Patrick's convent lawn;
under who's great boughs shelter buck, doe, and fawn;
mistletoe grows among its lofty bowers;
non-thinking, yet imbued with druid powers.
The limbs of this tree can be an ether net;
to focus wishes Heather and Erin, let.
This way Heather's transforming wish can deploy;
without me to serve as a magic envoy.
This spell needs to be done so I can be freed;
from my horrid life of loneliness and greed,
I know my life has been a fraud and a con;
even by the standards of a Leprechaun.
With this wish I desire my sad life to end;
from this time forward as a human I'll fend.
Please let my human life be good and not crass;
transform me into an orphaned Irish lass.
Erin Murphy has agreed to be my aunt;
with her I'll live and my past evil recant.
Please Mother Gia, a great favor I ask;
to make my transition an easier task.
Let me start human life as a teenage girl;
as a classmate with Heather in skirts to twirl.
If you do this my gratitude will be great;
I'll no longer be a Leprechaun ingrate.
Oh Mother Gia, grant this my last spell rhyme;
and I'll not pest you again in this lifetime."
Patti stopped dancing and collapsed in a heap on the floor by the candle. Erin knelt beside her and took the trembling Leprechaun in her arms.
Meanwhile, after making their selections, Leslie, Heather, Patti and Joyce followed Stephanie back to another private dressing room next to the one where the Henry boys were undergoing their ordeal. The girls had no qualms about removing their school uniforms. In moments, the three nubile fourteen-year-old girls stood in their panties and bras.
"Why don't we step out to select appropriate outfits for the boys," Olivia stated as she took Grace's arm to guide her from the room. "You boys wait quietly until we return. Don't bother trying to get dressed. The lockers with your clothes are electronically locked. I have the release button on a chain about my neck." With that Olivia and Grace left the room. That door closed with an ominous CLICK.
Alec rushed to the door to find that it was indeed securely locked. James headed to the lockers to discover the same. The boys were left panic stricken. They were trapped and had nothing to wear but their underwear. The brothers looked at each other knowing they were helpless and at the mercy of the women.
Once in the hall Olivia and Grace burst into laughter. The looks of panic upon the faces of the boys was delightful. The jiggling door knob confirmed for the women that the boys were checking their nonexistent options. Instead of going into the store, Grace was surprised when Olivia went to the next dressing room and knocked. The door was promptly opened by a pretty teenage clerk and Olivia led Grace inside. Grace was delighted to see Joyce. It only took a moment for her to recognize the panty and bra clad Heather and Leslie. The third girl was a stranger but Patti was quicky introduced.
Grace marveled at the overt girlishness of Leslie and especially Heather. No matter how closely she looked, she couldn't see the slightest trace of boyishness. The two sex-changed girls looked as soft and girlishly feminine as sweet Patti. This raised her hopes of successfully transforming her rough and tumble sons into adorable girls.
"Now that we're all together," Olivia began. "I think we all know our ultimate goal is to transform Alec and James into girls. We all know that Leslie and Heather were once boys. But none of you know that my daughter Stephanie was once my son Stephan."
Everyone turned to look at the stunning girl who smiled prettily and curtseyed. The cute nineteen year old sex-changed daughter stood five feet seven inches tall and weighed a svelte 115 pounds. Strawberry blonde shoulder length straight tresses framed her cute face. She wore a body hugging mini dress that clearly revealed her fantastic body and great legs.
"Stephan was a most uncouth boy," Olivia smiled. "His father deserted us when he was five. I opened this business a year later. I think the time I found a frog in his jeans pocket as I was sorting the wash was the last straw. Even though he was only ten, I knew there was no way I could stand having him enter puberty. But at that point I had no idea there was anything I could do to stop it from happening. It was shortly after that incident that Dr. Cassandra Trate brought her husband in to be outfitted. Naturally she told me all about how she changed his sex. I knew instantly that's what I wanted to do to Stephan. It seemed so perfect, to have an adorable daughter and own the boutique. Dr. Trate was quite enthusiastic about helping. All we needed was an excuse to get him to her office. Two weeks later little Stephan came down with a cold. Now I have my lovely daughter."
"Oh that sounds so wonderful," Grace enthused. "I hope my sons turn out to be so cute. I know Leslie and Heather are happy with their girlhood. How do you feel Stephanie?"
"Well, I certainly never wanted to turn into a girl," Stephanie replied in a sweet soprano voice. "In fact, I'd probably have fought Mother tooth and nail if I'd have known what she and Dr. Trate intended to do to me. I was a tough little guy. I loved playing sports, climbing trees, running through the woods, and playing army. There was no way I was ever going to settle down. Then when I came down with a case of the sniffles, Mother took me to see Dr. Trate. I was nervous about seeing a new doctor and even became quite belligerent when I discovered the doctor was a woman. I was quite a little sexist pig. Well, Dr. Trate hypnotized me although at the time I didn't know it. Normally when I came home from school I'd throw down my books and run outside to play with my buddies. But I obeyed Dr. Trate's orders and stayed inside for two weeks and never missed my normal activities. I even did my homework and studied. School suddenly became easy and fun. I went back for a checkup and discovered that I suddenly wanted to take dancing lessons instead of playing sports. My soon to be former buddies really got on my case about that. Shortly after that, my underwear was destroyed when a bottle of beach fell over and drained into the washer. Since Mother owned the boutique, it was cheaper and easier for us replace them with girls undies. By the end of the school year, thanks to visits to Dr. Trate every other week, I hated being a boy. When summer came, I began living as a girl. I've never looked back and have no regrets. I love being a girl!'
"That sounds wonderful," Grace replied. "I can hardly wait to see my sons mincing about in dresses."
'Speaking of which, we'd better decide what style dresses our perky threesome will be wearing," Olivia stated.
The entire group began discussing the virtues of the five styles of bouffant little girl style party dresses the girls had selected. Next the each posed holding the dresses in front of them until they chose one style that looked right on all three. Olivia and Stephanie headed out to return the discarded selections and to get the right sizes of the style selected as well as appropriate accessories. While the were gone, Leslie, Heather, and Patti stripped to the buff. They giggled and huddled together, allowing Grace only tantalizing glimpses of their budding girlishness. Grace desperately wanted to see between their legs. She just had to know the two former boys looked like real girls.
Joyce realized this and went to the girls in their huddle. In moments Joyce had them organized. Taking a folded sheet, she held it up as a curtain for the girls as they lined up. Moving behind them, Joyce tugged the sheet up and over their heads, slowly revealing their nubile naked bodies while carefully shielding their heads, hair, and shoulders from Grace's view.
"See if you can tell which girl is natural and which are Dr. Trate’s handiwork," Joyce asked with a chuckle.
Grace peered intently at the girls. All three had shapely legs, nicely rounded hips, trim waists, and budding perky breasts. Even between their thighs, she could only see a puffy feminine mound. None of the girls possessed any trace of pubic hair. For the life of her, Grace could not decide which was the real girl. The girls laughed and hugged each other when she confessed she had no clue.
Olivia and Stephanie returned with the nearly identical outfits. The only differences were that Leslie was to be dressed all in yellow, Patti all in lavender, and Heather all in pink. Soft satin rhumba style panties with row after row of delicate white lace ruffles across the backside came first. Next came matching white lace trimmed satin bras with seamless cups that hugged and caressed their pert budding breasts. The girls shivered with delight as the cute undies hugged their nubile bodies.
Dainty rose patterned lace stockings with three inch wide elastic top cuffs to hold them in place covered their shapely legs to the top of their thighs. Dainty nylon anklets slipped over the stockings. Little girl style roll down cuffs formed an inch wide white lace ruffle about their trim ankles. Patent leather T-strap one inch heeled shoes in a color to match their outfits adorned their dainty feet. A fluffy flounced full crinoline petticoat with a white lace trimmed satin overslip. The darling fancy petticoat reached to mid-thigh and the crinkly multiple layers made it stand out five inches from their legs.
The luxurious velvet party dresses came next. The princess seams of the bodice were decorated with a half inch wide white lace ruffle. The dress buttoned up the back so snugly that the bodice shaped itself quite alluringly about their budding breasts. The two-inch high collar fit snugly about their slender necks and was trimmed with a delicate lace ruffle. Victorian style ivory cameos on a half inch wide satin ribbon were secured over the high necks of the dresses. A white lace sailor style square overlay adorned the top. Mutton topped loose full length sleeves ended in a flaring two inch wide ruffled cuff trimmed in white lace. Their narrow waists were accentuated by a three inch wide satin ribbon sash tied into a dainty full bow at the small of their back. The full skirts billowed out sweetly over the fluffy petticoats. The white lace trimmed scalloped hem allowed generous glimpses of the dainty petticoat beneath it. Kidskin gloves completed the outfits.
The outfits combined just the right touch of little girl prissiness and tempting teenage flirtiness. The girls looked absolutely charming and innocently seductive. Looking at each other and their reflections in the many mirrors, they knew they looked good. The poor Henry boys would be so overwhelmed they wouldn't know what to do, which was exactly what they wanted.
While the girls posed and primped, and giggled in their new outfits, Grace accompanied Olivia and Stephanie into the store to select matching Lord Fauntleroy outfits for her sons that would compliment the girls dresses.
Alec and James looked about their mirrored prison. There was no way out and they couldn't even get to their clothes. Every time they saw their reflection in a mirror they recalled Olivia's condemnation of their manhood and her claim that they were simply too pretty to be boys. Neither boy could look his brother in the eye. Surreptitiously they eyed their sibling and their own reflection. Each glimpse seemed to confirm Olivia's evaluation. They were rather underdeveloped in the male organ department. The guys in movies and the porno mags they'd seen were much better endowed. This only accentuated their naturally boyish insecurity about their masculinity.
In addition, they looked for some sign of secondary male sexual characteristics. Much to their chagrin there was little see. Neither boy was overly muscled. They showed no sign of facial or body hair growth. Many of their classmates already shaved and a few had dark hairy chests, arms, and legs. Alec's voice had just begun to crack into a deeper tone but was still a high-pitched boy's voice. Poor James still had the dulcet voice of a boy soprano. Alec had been masturbating for about a year and a half while James had been doing it for a year. Their stamina was minimal and they were lucky to be able to do it once a day. Neither had ever dated a girl. In comparing themselves to their classmates, they were amongst the smallest boys. The bigger linebacker type guys had often dismissed them as wimps. With hardly any noticeable bulge in their jockey shorts, no macho muscle development, and shoulder length hair, they had to admit they did not appear anywhere near prime examples of teenage boyhood. They were near tears as they realized Olivia had not been far off when she said they were much too pretty to be boys. In all honesty they forlornly admitted to their shattered male self-image that rather than the actual teenage boys they really were, they looked more like flat-chested preteen tomboys.
The boys suffered alone and stayed in opposite corners of the mirrored room fighting back tears of anger, frustration, and helplessness. They had no idea what to do or how to resist their determined mother. Their father, whom they'd always admired and tried to emulate, was now totally under dominated by their mother. Her announcement about getting him a job and that he'd have to go for a month long training seminar had proved to the boys that their father was totally pussy whipped and helpless before their mother's desires. If their father, who was a proud macho man, proved helpless to resist their mother, what hope had they? Both boys jumped when the door opened and a cute teenage girl entered. Clad only in their underwear, the boys modestly covered their deficient maleness and turned beet red.
"I'm Stephanie Childress, the owner's daughter," she told them with a sweet smile that didn't even acknowledge their embarrassing state of dress. "Our mothers are still selecting your outfits but sent me ahead to have you change into more appropriate underwear. Here you go. Put these on after you remove what you're wearing." With that she held out two tiny bundles of shiny baby blue garments.
The boys hesitated and exchanged nervous glances. Neither lad dared approach the pretty strawberry blonde although both felt a definite stirring in their groin. This arousal only served to increase their apprehension. Both felt Stephanie appeared almost goddess-like and their inferior manhood was too fragile and decrepit to warrant risking exposure and possible ridicule to such obvious femininity.
"We don't have all day," Stephanie scolded in a severe tone that left the boys know she was unhappy with their hesitation. "Our mothers expect both of you to be wearing this when they get here. I really don't think you want to get them upset, do you?"
The boys shook their heads and sighed their defeat. After exchanging looks of hopelessness, they shuffled over to Stephanie and reluctantly took the tiny bundles of cloth she gave them. They walked sideways like crabs in an effort to hide their inadequate groins from her searching view. To their horror they noted the baby blue fabric was a shiny silken satin and that the edges were trimmed with a dainty quarter inch band of delicate baby blue lace. Both lads looked up at Stephanie. Their disdain for the sissy bundles they now held was clearly etched upon their faces. The steely glare she gave both left no room for argument. Fearing the consequences if they were not wearing the underwear when their mother and Olivia arrived with their outfits, they morosely returned to their corners. Once back where they started, they nervously looked at Stephanie hoping she'd leave to allow them a semblance of privacy while they changed.
"I have my orders not to leave in case you need help," Stephanie stated as she saw their hesitation. "You'll simply have to strip and put on your new things."
"Could you please at least turn your back," Alec asked sheepishly knowing it would do no good to even attempt asking the pretty girl to leave.
"It wouldn't do any good," Stephanie laughed much to their discomfort. "With these mirrors I'll be able to see you no matter which way I'm looking. Besides, I'm curious to see if my mother was telling the truth about how pitifully endowed you are."
The boys now blushed all over their bodies. The incipient arousal they felt at being in the same room with such a pretty girl instantly evaporated at her teasing words. Still, they could not bring themselves to strip before her.
"You guys better hurry," Stephanie warned. "If you're not wearing those things when they get here, you'll probably wind up in dresses."
"They wouldn't do that, would they," James asked plaintively.
"They most certainly would," Stephanie laughed. "I've personally helped put fifty-five boys into dresses. Thirty-five of them have not worn pants since then."
The looks of horror her words engendered were clearly etched upon their stricken suddenly pale faces. "You mean those poor boys are still wearing dresses," James croaked.
"Dresses and skirts," Stephanie corrected before menacingly continuing. "Only none of them are boys anymore. They all had their male equipment cut off and were changed into girls."
The boys recoiled in horror and dropped the dainty garments they were holding. "That's obscene," Alec declared in a voice that dripped with abject terror.
"Oh I don't think so," Stephanie giggled and spun in a circle making her short skirt flare out prettily to reveal even more of her sexy legs. "I just love being a girl."
"That's easy for you to say," Alec choked as he was torn between horror and lust. "You are a girl. You'd never understand how horrible it would be for a boy to be turned into a dumb girl."
"You're oh so wrong, sweety," Stephanie purred. "In the first place, girls are not dumb. Who fights wars and gets killed? Who makes fools of themselves to be near pretty girls? Boys, poor stupid macho boys, that's who! Secondly, I do know and understand how horrible it is for a boy to become a girl. It's only as horrible as his stupidity makes it. You see, nine years ago I was a dumb boy very much like you two."
The eyes of the boys almost bulged from their faces as they stared in open mouth disbelief. "There's no way you could ever have been a boy," Alec exclaimed indignantly assuming the pretty girl was just saying she'd once been a boy. "You're just trying to torment us."
"It's your ignorance that makes you say that, dear boy," Stephanie laughed. "I was a boy until I was ten. Then my mother decided I was too nasty and that she'd rather have a sweet daughter. Well, I was nasty and I have become her sweet daughter. But that's really not pertinent to your situation... yet! If you're not wearing your new undies when our mothers get here, you just may find out for yourselves that I'm right about what it's like for a boy to become a girl. There's no need for or time for false modesty. I had a pecker and balls between my legs for ten years so I know what they look like."
Alec and James exchanged looks of absolute horror and hopelessness. What Stephanie warned them about matched up perfectly with what their mother had told them would happen if they were not good and did as they were told. It also seemed to confirm Olivia's words that their mother should put them in dresses. Neither boy wanted to find out. Turning their back toward Stephanie and getting as close into the corner as they could, they tugged off their jockey shorts and picked up the wispy satin stretch panties. Their hands shook with horror as they held open the lace-edged waist and stepped inside. The lace about the leg openings tickled their legs as they pulled them up and snugged them about their waists and hips. The stretchy silken fabric felt cooly sexy and yet deliciously warm as it hugged and caressed their male organs.
"Push your balls up into your body and tuck your penis back between your butt cheeks," Stephanie ordered. "Then pull your panties snugly into place to hold everything where you put it. If you don't, I will. You'd better hurry. I doubt there's much time left."
Neither boy wanted Stephanie's hands on their male equipment, especially if she was telling the truth about once having been a boy. They weren't queer, even if she did look like a sexy girl. They certainly didn't want to stuff their balls up inside their bodies and tuck their cocks between their legs. Yet her warning about the time prompted them to follow her instructions. Swiftly they did as she said. Their stuffed, cramped balls ached dully and their tucked manhood felt quite compressed and even smaller. Looking down, they saw only what looked like a flat, girlish groin instead of the long familiar masculine bulge. Both wanted to fight this latest humiliation, yet their fear of the possible consequences overcame their anxiety and anguish.
Tears of frustration were trickling down their red cheeks as they tugged off their familiar t-shirts and donned the silken wispy stretch satin sleeveless undershirt. The lace trim about the around neck tickled as did the lace trim on the arm holes. The lace trimmed waist ended just above the top of the panties. The cool silken fabric clung to their flat tummies and was too short to tuck into their panties. About a half inch of their white flesh was visible between the top and their panties. The chagrined boys had no time to study their femininely clad bodies as the door to the dressing room opened once more.
"Oh darn," Olivia declared with a hint of frustration as she surveyed the blushing lingerie clad boys. "I was hoping you wouldn’t cooperate so we could have put you into dresses. You look so sweet in your panties and camisoles. You really belong in them. You certainly are poor excuses for boys. No real boy would have ever allowed himself to be put into girls lingerie, but then I guess you already know that you're really just a couple of sissies. You know you really should just ask your mother to turn you into girls and be done with it. It'd be so much simpler for everyone."
The boys hung their heads in shame as Olivia once more cut right to the heart of their misgivings and fears. They felt all she said just had to be true. They had to be sissies to so meekly capitulate. No real boy would ever have allowed himself to be dressed in girls undies. Self doubt and self condemnation engulfed their shattered machismo. Guilt made them wonder if maybe they did belong in girls clothes. Maybe they should just give up and ask to be turned into girls. All energy, self-esteem, and will to resist had vanished, beaten out by their humiliation of being so easily turned into a pair of sissies.
The boys were brought to the center of the room where Olivia and Stephanie could work together to get them dressed. The boys moved like silent zombies as they mechanically followed the curt instructions to don the rest of their new sissy clothes. The only sign that showed there still remained a hint of rebellion and resentment was the tears slowly trickling from their eyes.
In moments the boys were wearing baby blue nylon tights which compressed their tucked manhood even more. The tights made their legs look girlishly shapely. Dainty baby blue nylon anklets were slipped over their feet. An inch wide ruffle of delicate baby blue lace formed darling turned down sissy cuffs at their trim ankles. Next came baby blue velvet shorts that clung to their thighs and buttocks like a second skin. Much to their embarrassment the shorts buttoned up the rear like girls shorts. There was no front opening and no pockets. They had to suck in their tummies as far as they could and hold their breath as they were buttoned securely into the sissy shorts. The boys realized that if their manhood hadn't been tucked away by their panties the crotch of their new shorts would now be crushing their balls. The sissy velvet shorts ended six inches above their knees in dainty inch wide ruffles of delicate baby blue lace.
A baby blue velvet blouse buttoned up the back to lock them inside the sissy garment. Inch wide double ruffles of baby blue lace accentuated the faux seams of the double breasted front. A broad baby blue velvet Peter Pan style overlay trimmed in delicate baby blue lace surrounded the two inch high lace trimmed neck. A baby blue satin ribbon was tied into a Buster Brown style bowtie over the high neck. A baby blue lace jabot seemed to erupt below the huge bowtie. The skin tight velvet long sleeves of the blouse severely restricted their arm movement and ended at their wrists in floppy four inch wide ruffled cuffs edged in baby blue lace. The oversize cuffs engulfed three quarters of their hand. Keeping such cuffs clean would require close attention to every movement.
A three quarter length blue velvet collarless jacket went over the blouse. The rounded back and scooped sides were designed not to close but to reveal the sissy blouse beneath. The main hem of the jacket ran about the bottom in back and right up the open sides and around the neck. This long hem was accented by a baby blue satin ribbon threaded through the velvet a half inch above the hem. The three quarter length loose sleeves called attention to the snug sleeves of the blouse. As with every other article of the outfit, baby blue lace decorated every hem and edge.
Baby blue kidskin gloves were fitted onto their hands. The gloves were so tight it was impossible for the boys to make a fist. Baby blue patent leather T-strap shoes with one inch heels were slipped on their feet. The heels and soles of the sissy shoes had numerous metal taps permanently inserted so every step on a hard surface would result in a resounding CLICK. The metal would also make movement tenuous as it would severely cut the gripping power of the sole. Any attempt at walking rapidly or taking long strides would most likely result in a slip and fall. A small baby blue patent leather shoulder bag would carry tissues and any other necessities the boys might need. The crowning touch was a baby blue velvet beret with a center tassle of baby blue lace.
Once dressed, the women oohed and aahed over the identically dressed sissy boys.
The boys hung their heads in shame as they were made to pose sweetly for the women. They never noticed Stephanie quietly slip to where they had discarded their underwear and slip it into a trash bag. They never noticed as she went to the lockers and used her electronic key to open the doors and swipe their socks. They didn't even realize she quietly left the dressing room. When she had completed her task, Olivia and Grace made the boys stand side by side facing the mirrors so they could see their ultra sissy reflections.
"You'll see what you'll look like when we attend the Tea on Saturday," Grace declared proudly.
To say the boys felt horrible is an understatement. They looked through red-rimmed eyes at two simpering sissies. This was how they would appear before Heather and Leslie. It was simply too horrid to even contemplate such a ignominious fate. James' lower lip began to quiver, then he burst into tears of utter shame, burying his face in his hands. Alec only lasted a few seconds before he too burst into sobs.
The boys cried for five minutes before Alec collected himself enough to turn to his mother. "Mother, please, don't make us go out in public dressed like this," he pleaded. "We'll do whatever you ask, anything! I'll just die if anyone, especially those girls, see me dressed like this!"
"Very well, children," Grace replied in a concerned motherly tone. "I won't make you go out in public dressed in these outfits if you don't want to do so."
The boys looked up hopefully at the sudden unexpected but much prayed for reprieve. "Oh thank you, Mother, thank you," they gushed. "We'll be good boys from now on, we promise!"
"Not so fast," Grace cut short their joy as a devilish smile played across her lips. "If you won't wear these outfits, then you'll wear pretty dainty little girl party dresses with fancy petticoats."
"Mother, no," the horrified boys nearly screamed in unison. All thought of their disgust with the sissy costumes they were wearing simply disappeared from their turmoil filled minds. The mere idea of being made to wear a prissy dress made their insides churn. The very real terror that they might be forced to wear dresses and go out in public was totally abhorrent. What was even worse was that they were so whipped they had no hopes of avoiding whatever fate their mother wanted.
In desperation Alec turned about and dropped to his knees before his mother. "Mother, please, please, I promise to be good! I'll never argue with you again. I'll do whatever you tell me to do! Just, please, don't make me wear a dress!"
James immediately followed suit and begged shamelessly for mercy.
"I really wish you two would make up your minds," Grace replied shortly. "First you cry, promise to do whatever I ask you to do, and beg me not to make you wear the cute outfits you're wearing. When I give in to your begging and tell you what I want you to wear in place of your cute outfits, you cry, promise to do whatever I ask you to do, and beg me not to make you wear dresses. Which way do you want it? You have two choices. Either you wear what you have on now or you wear dainty party dresses. Now which will it be? Remember, you promised to be good and do whatever I say if I don't MAKE you wear either outfit. I've agreed with your requests. Now the choice of what you wear is totally in your hands. Now, tell me if you want to wear the cute outfits you have on or if you want to wear pretty little girl party dresses?"
The boys sagged hopelessly back onto the floor. They realized they had been trapped. They had been deftly maneuvered into the position of asking to wear either the sissy outfits they now wore or wearing dainty little girl party dresses. They knew what the answer had to be. There was no way they could ever agree to wear dresses. They had no choice but to wear the damning sissy outfits.
"We'll wear what we're wearing now," Alec finally capitulated hopelessly while James sobbed and nodded his agreement.
"Very good, children," Grace intoned majestically as Stephanie re-entered the room with her arms full of dainty garments.
One look at the smirk upon Stephanie's face and the boys knew they were about to undergo another unwanted experience. The lace trimmed shiny garments the pretty girl carried seemed all too ominous. With a nod of approval from Olivia, Stephanie walked over to the boys.
The boys shivered with growing anguish when their mother called out "Children," in a most dictatorial tone of voice.
The use of the appellation CHILDREN in place of BOYS was a change in terminology pre-planned to begin once the boys were wearing their sissy Lord Fauntleroy outfits. The switch was calculated to further strip the teenage boys from their masculinity. Fourteen and fifteen year old teenage boys normally bridle at being called BOYS because in their machismo filled way of thinking it equals pre-teen status. The word children definitely belongs in pre-teen connotations and additionally strips away gender. Thus the formerly arrogant teenage boys were effectively reduced in status to sexless pre-teens.
"Stephanie has your new underwear and socks," Grace continued authoritatively once she had their attention. "I threw out all your old underwear and socks today while you were at school. Stephanie gathered up and disposed of the underwear and socks you were wearing when you arrived here. From now on, you will wear your new underwear and socks. If I discover you are not properly dressed, I will throw out every piece of boys clothes you have and bring you back here and have you outfitted in a complete girl's wardrobe. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
The boys looked at the girlish garments Stephanie held. They could see they were all heavily lace trimmed and made of shiny satin or silken nylon in white, pink, yellow, peach, lime green, baby blue, and lavender. Numbly they nodded their heads.
"Take your new undies, children," Grace ordered. "You will find there are thirteen sets of panties, camisole, and anklets. There is one set in baby blue to go with the set you're already wearing and two sets each in white, pink, yellow, peach, lime green, and lavender. That means you'll have two sets of pretty new undies for each day."
Like zombies the defeated boys hesitantly took their new undies. The soft cool silkiness tantalized their senses while at the same time they were horrified to know that they were now expected to wear such damning sissy undies all the time. They knew it would be hopeless to protest and if they tried to resist the result would surely force them deeper into their unwanted sissy status.
"Mother," Alec began softly hoping to be able to at least alleviate the ordeal a bit. "Can't we please have one set of boys underwear to wear to school on the days we have gym class? If any of the guys see us wearing these sissy undies..." A shiver of absolute horror crossed the faces of both boys as they thought of the humiliation they'd feel and the harassment they'd receive if any of their buddies or classmates should discover their girlish new undies.
"Children," Grace intoned in a sugary sweet voice. "Do you really think I'd let you be victimized by your crude associates in the same way you victimized poor Heather?"
"I hope not," Alec replied warily sensing another trap. "What we did was terrible. We're really VERY sorry for how crude we were to poor Heather. Please, don't let it happen to us. Please let us have one set of our boys' underwear and socks for gym class."
"If you let them have one set, they'll try to wear it all the time," Olivia interrupted. "I've seen it much too often. While their intentions are good now, children always change their tune once the pressure is eased. While their concern about gym class is valid, their solution is wrong. It would be far better to simply have them stop taking gym class altogether. In my experience, gym class worsens the macho problem by forcing undo competition and fosters attempts at physical over-exertion. That results in an adrenalin rush that increases the need and desire to be more macho. Gym classes are simply a downward spiral of self-fulfilling macho pigheadedness."
"You're right of course," Grace agreed. "You may not keep one set of your old underwear but I will make sure you get a doctor's excuse to get out of taking gym class."
Alec and James exchanged looks of anguished relief. While they were exclusively stuck with their girlish undies and socks, at least they would be spared the agony of discovery in gym class. In truth, neither boy particularly enjoyed gym class since the teachers and jocks always hassled them and the other less athletic guys. It would be rather nice to get out of gym, especially showering where their puny male equipment could be seen by their better endowed classmates.
"Now let's get changed," Grace stated. "We need to get home so you can do your homework."
The boys eagerly allowed Olivia and Stephanie to help them out of their rear buttoning sissy outfits. In moments they were stripped down to their panties, camisoles, tights, and anklets. The boys sat on a padded bench and lifted their feet to slip off their anklets in order to remove their tights.
"Just a minute," Grace halted them. "I like the tights. Olivia, do you think it would be a good idea to have the children wear tights along with the rest of their new undies and anklets?"
"That's a marvelous suggestion," Olivia declared. "Stephanie, please go get tights to match their thirteen sets of undies."
The dejected boys exchanged looks of defeat as Stephanie curtseyed and scurried from the room. The boys rationalized this setback away since whether or not they wore tights would make little difference considering the rest of their sissy undies. Rather than make a fuss and wind up in dresses they meekly accepted this addition to their wardrobe.
By the time Stephanie returned with the colorful tights, the boys had dressed in their jeans and sweatshirts and slipped on their sneakers. The girlish undergarments felt very strange and confining beneath their normal attire. The snug fit of the panty/tight combination had by this time numbed their genitals. The only sensations they now felt were the cool, delicious feelings of their dainty satin undies caressing their skin plus the ticklish feeling of their rough outer clothes riding over their silken underthings. It made them feel constantly aware of their clothing, something few boys ever do. The boys steeled themselves to run the gauntlet of the prissy store. It was the only way out.
As they left the dressing room, they bumped into Heather, Leslie, and Patti who had just conveniently left their dressing room. The boys stopped dead and blushed as they faced the three girls. They immediately recognized Heather and Leslie, but the third girl was stranger to them. Even though their masculinity was numbed and safely tucked away, the boys felt the beginning of a most pleasant stirring in that nether region as they drank in the perky images of the giggling girls in their cute parochial school uniforms. Unfortunately, the panties/tight combination quickly made their incipient arousal painful since there was no room for their organs to grow. This resulted in a sudden increase in the pressure upon their trapped testicles. Both boys paled and began to do a weird dance as they sought to relieve the unwanted pain.
"We never expected to see boys here," Patti announced as she vamped a bit for the boys.
"These aren't normal boys," Leslie explained as she and Heather began to flirt with the frustrated boys. "These are the boys we told you about. The ones who laughed at poor Heather."
"Oh, I hate boys who do that," Patti hissed. "But then again maybe they were only expressing their desire to wear pretty undies. Why else would they be here?"
The overtly flirty actions of the girls aggravated the boys' arousal and increased their pain. Meanwhile the girls' conversation had taken a decidedly inauspicious turn. the boys desperately wanted to leave. Unfortunately Grace had stopped to talk to Joyce about the upcoming Victorian Tea so the girls and the boys had little choice but to mingle in the corridor. The boys began to wiggle and tried to secretly tug at their tights and panties to relieve the painful pressure.
"If you’re doing the potty dance you really should use the restroom," Heather teased. "Or are you wearing diapers?"
The boys blushed and shook their heads no as they bit their lips to stifle their moans.
"We just picked out our dresses for the Victorian Tea," Leslie informed the boys. "Is that what you're doing here? Did you mother decide to carry through with Heather's suggestion that you find out what it's like to wear dresses?"
Alec and James both frantically shook their heads no.
"Then what are you doing here," Patti pointedly asked.
The boys looked helplessly to their mother but she was still engaged in a quiet intense conversation with Joyce. The silence quicky stretched past endurance as the girls stared at the wriggling duo.
"We... we were... fitted for our... ah... outfits... for the Victorian Tea...," Alec finally managed to explain between painful groin spasms. "But we're not... wearing dresses."
"Oh I can't wait to see you on Saturday," Heather chuckled. "If you were fitted for the Tea, and you won't be wearing dresses, I bet you'll be dressed in the most sissified outfit a boy could imagine!"
"Oh look at them," Patti laughed. "See how their heads drooped and their faces turned beet red? Heather, you hit the nail right on the head. They were fitted for really sissy outfits!"
"Oh, I can hardly wait for Saturday to see the dainty little sissies," Leslie cooed.
"That's why they're wriggling like that," Heather exclaimed. "They don't have to go to the toilet, but if they did they'd have to pull everything down just lake a girl! I bet they're wearing girls' undies."
The now terrified boys moaned and backed towards their mother as all three girls approached with impish gleams in their eyes.
"I think you're right about them wearing girls' undies, Patti giggled. "Look at them trying to get away from us."
"Just what are you children doing," Grace scolded as she turned when the retreating boys nudged her from behind. "Honestly, I can't let you two alone for a moment without having you get into trouble."
The boys pulled away from their angry mother as the girls continued to close in. They frantically looked for an avenue of escape but they were cut off. All they could do was cower against the wall.
"Mommy," James finally cried helplessly as Patti placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Jamie, what on earth is wrong with you," Grace asked in pique. "Are you afraid of Patti?"
Crowded together, Alec and James looked up at their mother in disbelief. She knew the third girl, the one they'd never met. They wished they'd never met the other two girls. They never noticed the name change from James to Jamie.
"Yes, Mommy," James whimpered. "I'm afraid."
"They're just a couple of sissies," Heather announced smugly as she placed a hand on Alec's trembling shoulder. "They've been rude in not answering our questions but we figured out the answers from their reactions."
"Children," Grace scolded her cowering sons. "Is what Heather says true? Have you once more been rude to her?"
"Mommy, no," Alec squealed as he realized what could very well happen if his mother determined he'd been rude to the girls. "We didn't intend to be rude, it's just that their questions were a little too personal."
"Really," Grace asked in a doubtful voice. "Allie, just what did they ask?"
"They asked if we had been fitted for dresses," Alec replied softly not noticing his name change from Alec to Allie.
"You didn't answer them," Grace asked in disbelief. "That is utter rudeness!"
"It wasn't really that bad," Heather stated. "I understand they're really embarrassed simply to be here. They simply couldn't find the nerve to answer us since no REAL boy would ever shop here. Allie and Jamie were afraid we'd think they were a couple of sissies. Besides, their reactions answered our questions. We know they're going to be wearing really sissy boy outfits and we just can't wait to see them. We also know they're wearing girls' undies. It's hard for us to believe any boy would wear panties. They were trying to get away from us because we wanted to see for ourselves."
Alec and James looked at their mother hopefully. They never expected Heather of all people to come to their aid. They just hoped their mother would accept Heather's excuse because it was the truth and they did not want to end up in dresses. The terrified duo never noticed Heather had called them Allie and Jamie.
"Children, I'm really upset with you," Grace intoned. "I have a good mind to march you right back into the dressing room and have you put into dresses."
"Mother, please," Alec cried. "We're sorry. Please, please, don't make us wear dresses."
"You can thank Heather that I won't do it... this time," Grace replied. "But there must be consequences. First, when you dear little children were scared you both called me Mommy rather than Mother. You haven't called me Mommy in years. I like being called Mommy. From now on, you will address me as Mommy. The first time I hear either of you call me Mother or Mom, it'll be dresses for both of you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Mommy," the crushed duo whispered.
"Good," Grace replied. "Secondly, the girls are quite right to question whether or not you are boys. I'm ashamed of you, running away from three pretty teenage girls. After this shameful display, I can no longer consider you my sons. You're still my children, but that's as far it will go. You were so frightened by the girls that you never even noticed that I called Alec Allie and James Jamie. In fact, you both responded instantly to you new names. Your punishment for this will be to make a slight name change to reflect the loss of your boyhood. As of this moment, Alec, your name is Allie and James, your name is Jamie. You will call each by your new names. You will sign all your school work with your new name. You will ask your teachers to call you by your new names. You will tell your father that you want to be called by your new names. If I hear either of you using your old names, it'll be dresses for both of you. If you don't sign your school work with your new name, it'll be dresses for both of you. If you do not ask your teachers and father to call you by your new names, it'll be dresses for both of you. You will tell everyone it was your idea to change your names. If I discover you have stated otherwise, it'll be dresses for the both of you. Do you understand?"
The brothers exchanged looks of utter despair as they struggled to hold back their tears. Allie and Jamie... those were girl's names, not boy's names. But they knew that under the circumstances they were far from being boys. They understood in their chilled hearts that they had been totally reduced to being sissies. They were trapped. They had no way out but to meekly acquiesce to their domineering mother's every demand. Anything less and they would be put into dresses, perhaps even turned into girls like Stephanie had said happened to her. The brothers silently understood they could not let that happen. It was terrible enough they'd become sissies, but to be turned into girls. "Yes mommy," the hapless boys replied meekly.
"The third thing is that Heather's questions were only natural when a girl meets a boy in a store such as this," Grace chided the cowering boys. "You're very fortunate she was able to figure out the answers to her questions. Now, it normally is not polite to show off your undies, but since you were so rude, I want both of you to unbuckle your belt, pull down your zipper, open your jeans, and pull down your tights so the girls can see your pretty panties. At the same time you'll lift your sweatshirts so they can see your matching camisoles."
Alec and James dropped their mouths open in horror at this latest humiliating command. James, quickly followed by Alec dropped to their knees and placed their hands together in supplication. "Mommy, please, don't make us do that," the intimidated brothers pitifully begged.
"You are really a couple of sissies," Grace mocked them. "You're behavior is totally unacceptable and embarrassing to me. Get up on your feet, you sniveling cowards. Either you do as you were told or you will be put into dresses."
The tears began to freely flow as the humiliated brothers staggered to their feet. All will to resist was gone. They were defeated and crushed. Their arrogant machismo was thoroughly squashed.
"Ms Henry," Heather spoke up as the hopeless boys fumbled with their belts. "You're right about it not being polite to show one's undies in public. Please accept my apology for forgetting my manners. Because I was in the wrong, please don't make the boys show us their undies. I think they've suffered enough humiliation."
Although their tears continued to freely flow, the boys stopped their unwanted effort to expose their undies. Once more Heather's compassion for them surprised them. It also delighted them. Hesitantly and hopefully they looked to their mother to give them their much desired reprieve.
"Very well, Heather," Grace replied with a delighted smile. "The boys don't have to show you their undies. I just wish they could be as polite and concerned for others as you obviously are. However, they still need to be punished for being so rude and so afraid of three sweet girls. What do you think would be an appropriate punishment for them?"
The boys turned white as they realized their fate was being put into Heather's hands. They sobbed softly as they managed to bring their crying under control.
"I really think the best punishment would be to turn them into girls," Heather declared forcefully as the boys recoiled in horror. "Unfortunately, such a punishment wouldn't stay a punishment because they'd fall in love with being girls. So that really wouldn't be a good punishment."
The boys winced and shivered. They also realized Heather wasn't teasing. They knew she was speaking from the heart. She said nearly the same thing Stephanie had told them. They began to fear that they might like becoming girls if they were forced into dresses. That concept horrified them and further eroded their once proud boyish conceit.
"I think a more appropriate punishment would be for them to describe in detail all the girlish undies they're wearing," Heather decided. "After all, it is their underwear now. I think they should also tell us that they don't deserve to be boys anymore because they're just a couple of wimpy sissies."
"Heather, that sounds like the perfect punishment," Grace announced. "Although if you're right about them falling in love with girlhood if I make them wear dresses, that does sound quite good to me. I'd much rather have two sweet daughters than two simpering sissy children. Let me think for a moment."
Alec and James shivered with dread as they anxiously caught their breath. They certainly didn't want to describe their undies and admit they were sissies, but such an odious event was much preferable to being made to put on dresses. The boys hoped their mother would accept Heather's alternative.
"Perhaps I should let the little sissies decide which it is to be," Grace declared after a brief pause. "Allie, Jamie, would you rather be put into dresses and live as girls or would you rather describe, in detail, all the pretty undies you're wearing as well as admitting that you're a couple of simpering sissies?"
"We don't want to be put into dresses," Alec replied softly. "We'll tell the girls what they want to hear."
"Not just the girls," Grace chuckled. "You children will not get off that easy. If you don't want to be put into dresses, you will go to the front lobby of this store while Olivia announces that two sweet children would like all the customers to gather about them in the lobby. Once everyone has gathered, you will tell everyone, in clear voices, that you just love being a simpering sissy. You will then proceed to describe your pretty undies. Now, are you sure you don't want to put on pretty dresses?"
The boys were horrified. They hadn't thought they could sink any lower. Yet their mother had found yet another way to destroy what little remained of their self-esteem and publically humiliate them. The tears began to flow once more as they hung their heads in shame. For a brief moment they seriously thought about allowing themselves to be put into dresses. But they still retained enough macho stamina to resist the final annihilation of their boyhood. Once more they knew they had no choice but to publically humiliate themselves.
"We don't want to be put into dresses," Alec finally managed to respond when he'd been unable to tell them they'd make the public confession.
"Very well then," Grace sighed. "Olivia, can you please make the announcement?"
Stephanie placed two chairs for the boys to stand upon so everyone could see them while Olivia made the announcement over the store PA system. Moments later the hapless duo stood in the front lobby as curious customers gathered around the red-faced trembling boys. The boys hung their heads in shame, afraid to look at the gathered customers. Not counting Heather, Leslie, Patti, Joyce, Olivia, Stephanie, Grace and three other clerks, ten women, three little pre-school girls, ten elementary age girls, and five teenage girls surrounded the boys. The boys felt sick to their stomachs as they peeked out beneath their lidded eyes to see how many people had gathered to witness their humiliation.
"My children have been naughty," Grace began in a clear, no nonsense tone. "As punishment they have to tell you a few things. Allie, you may begin."
"My name is Allie," Alec began in a soft voice.
"My dear child," Grace interrupted. "Unless you want to be fitted for your first dress right where you stand, you better speak loud enough and clear enough for everyone to hear."
Murmurs of amazement and chuckles swept through the crowd. "Mommy, will she really make that sissy boy put on a dress right here in front of us," one little precocious girl asked in a clear voice. Everyone laughed.
"My name is Allie," Alec again started his unwanted litany in a quavering voice loud enough to be heard. "I'm a simpering sissy who is unfit to be a boy."
Chuckles swept through the gathered females as Alec caught his breath. Poor Jamie struggled to hold back his tears as he nervously waited his turn.
"I'm such a sissy that I'm wearing pretty girl's undies," Alec announced deciding to go for broke, going beyond what had been ordered in an effort to please his mother and hopefully get her off his back. He held his head high and smiled as he continued, "I'm wearing soft, silky baby blue satin panties with delicate lace about the waist and legs. I'm wearing a pretty matching camisole too. The undies feel real nice against my body. I'm also wearing baby blue nylon tights. They feel real silky and make my legs look sleek and girlish. The last bit of girl's clothing I'm wearing are my dainty lace trimmed baby blue nylon anklets." Alec pulled up his trousers to reveal his anklets and a bit of tight clad ankle. "They really make me feel like a simpering sissy. I'd like to thank my Mommy for replacing all of my old yucky boy underwear and socks with these cute new girly things."
The crowd simply listened and watched Alec's display in awed silence. When it was finished they applauded. "He really is a sweet little sissy," was an oft repeated phrase that no one disputed.
Grace was delighted by Alec's ingenuity. To show her appreciation she hugged him. Then she turned to Jamie. "Jamie, it's your turn," Grace announced.
Jamie at first had been stunned by Alec's speech and wondered if his older brother had completely flipped out. Secretly he peeked out at Alec and the crowd. Every eye was focused on Alec. Then he noticed the reaction of the people, they were smiling. So was his mother. Jamie realized that Alec was being his old sly self by going overboard in an effort to please their mother and hopefully get on her good side. If he succeeded, that would mean his mother would come down even harder on him. Jamie knew he just had to outdo his brother.
"I'm an even bigger sissy than Allie," Jamie vamped as he fluttered a limp-wristed hand towards his brother. He too held his head high, smiled, and even giggled girlish between sentences. "If he's not fit to be a boy, then I'm certainly not fit to be anything other than a sweet swishy sissy. I'm not only wearing girl's undies, I LOVE wearing girl's undies. Just like Allie, I'm wearing soft, silky baby blue satin panties with delicate lace about the waist and legs and a pretty matching camisole. I simply adore the way my dainty undies feel. I'm also wearing baby blue nylon tights. They feel deliciously silky and make my legs look soft and girlish. As you can see, I'm wearing dainty lace trimmed baby blue nylon anklets." James posed as he pulled up his trousers to reveal his anklets and a bit of tight clad ankle. "They really make me feel real naughty. I hate being a dumb old boy and simply love being a swishy simpering sissy. Like my sissy brother, I'd like to thank my Mommy for replacing all of my old yucky boy underwear and socks with these cute new girly things. I'd also like her to replace all my ugly old boy pajamas with cute baby doll nighties."
The crowd burst into applause. They were delighted to hear such simpering sissies.
"Oh you sweet little sissy," Grace declared as she hugged Jamie. "Of course I'll replace all your ugly old boy pajamas with pretty new baby doll nighties."
"Me too, Mommy," Alec begged. "I want sissy baby doll nighties too... and a pretty little doll to sleep with,' he added hastily in an effort not to be outdone by James.
"Of course, darling," Grace intoned. "As soon as we get you two your new nighties, we'll go over to the toy store so you can each pick out a pretty dolly."
Again the crowd applauded. It was obvious several mothers were contemplating whether it would be possible to turn their irresolute sons into sweet sissies.
Stephanie escorted the now swishy behaving boys to the nightwear department where they giggled and carried on like two prissy little girls over the overtly feminine nighties. In keeping with their assumed roles, they begged their mother to allow them to select four frilly fluffy baby doll nighties, one in pink, one in yellow, one in lavender, and one in peach. To their credit, the boys maintained their swishy facade throughout the ordeal.
After paying for the purchases, Stephanie led Grace and the boys into Olivia's private office at the rear of the store. Olivia, Joyce, Heather, Leslie, and Patti were waiting, seated on chairs before a bank of TV monitors and VCRs. Two chairs remained open so Grace and Stephanie sat in those, forcing the still swishy behaving duo to sit on the floor.
"We all know you didn't mean a word of what you said in the lobby," Olivia declared. "You were simply trying to please your mommy. I must say, however, you both are good actresses. You speeches and actions seemed quite genuine, as if you meant every word you were saying. Unfortunately, we all know that boys never keep their word and that in a few days, you'll be back to your old crude behavior. In order to save your mother the effort of subduing you another time, I'm going to give her a little present which she can send to your classmates and friends. I'm sure everyone would be delighted to see your performances. I doubt they'll realize you were acting. You see, like most modern stores, I have hidden cameras throughout the store to watch for shoplifters or to identify thieves. Thus, I have a very clear record of your performances in the lobby and while selecting your pretty new nightgowns."
With that she touched the remote control and the TV came to life. As the horrified boys watched, they discovered that their speeches did seem to come from the heart. Anyone seeing the tape would never believe it had been a put-on. To add to their chagrin, the tape switched scenes from camera to camera as they went through the store to the nighties where they made absolute swishy fools of themselves.
"Well, children," Grace intoned sweetly when the video was finished. "I trust I'll have your complete cooperation in the future. You WILL tell your teachers, friends, and father that you want to be called Allie and Jamie. You WILL wear your pretty new undies and nighties every day without complaint. You will freely admit to anyone who might ask that you are a sissy and that you love wearing pretty girl's undies. You will go with me to the toy store where you will pick out a prissy dolly and take it to the register. You will ask the clerk if you can please carry your new dolly rather than have it bagged. You will sleep with your new dolly. You will play nicely together with your new dollies. You will take your new dollies to the Victorian Tea on Saturday so you can play dollies with Heather, Leslie and Patti. You will join Heather, Leslie, and Patti as cooperative sissy playmates whenever we visit, which hopefully will be often. Is this all clear, or must I send copies of this tape to your friends and classmates?"
The boys now knew they were totally trapped. There was no way they could let their friends and classmates see that damning video and know they had become swishy sissies. They had no choice but to become the sissies they had pretended to be. Their subjugation was now complete. They were defeated and would never again be happy-go-lucky, carefree all-American boys.
"It's getting late," Grace stated seeing their capitulation. "Thank everyone for helping you find the sissy side of your life. Then you will hold hands as we leave. You will hold hands whenever we are out in public."
Grace stood, the boys forlornly but promptly stood. "Thank you for helping us find the sissy side of our lives," the crushed duo whispered.
"You are very welcome," Olivia replied. "You are welcome back anytime. I really do think you should ask your mother to turn you into girls. Your lives will be much easier. One other thing, I think you should get in the habit of curtseying when speaking to your elders. Try it now, please."
The boys meekly grasped the sides of their jeans and awkwardly curtseyed. They really began to think about asking to be turned into girls. Anything would be better than their current humiliating lot.
Heather, Leslie, and Patti hugged the sissy boys as if they were girlfriends and gave them a chaste kiss on the cheek before they grasped hands and meekly followed their mother out of the dressing room. The sissy lads saw the video in her hand as well as two others on a table labeled 'Allie and Jamie'. They briefly wondered how the editing had been so flawlessly accomplished and so many copies had been made in such a short time. They quickly pushed such morose thoughts from their minds. They had to concentrate on being perfect little sissies.
"I feel a little guilty about doing this to them," Heather said as she picked up a copy of the video. "But was it ever exciting!"
"I know what you mean," Stephanie added. "I get excited every time I help do this to a boy. It's really a lot of fun."
"That's exactly what Dr. Trate claims," Olivia chuckled. "I whole-heartedly agree. I simply adore transforming boys into girls. I don't think it will be too long before our pretty sissies ask their mother to become girls."
The boys shuddered and blushed, wondering if Olivia might be right. Boyhood was no longer an option as a way of life. The prospect of openly living as sissies was repugnant. The alternative was to ask their mother to be dressed as girls. That too was repugnant. But at least as girls they would not be publically humiliated.
With that, Joyce took her charges in tow while picking up another copy of the tape. She would give it to Mother Superior Murphy when she dropped Patti off. A few minutes late she was proven correct as Mother Superior Murphy invited Joyce in to sit in her living room and watch the tape while Patti showed her bedroom to Leslie and Heather. Joyce filled out all the details of the excursion as the women watched the tape. Mother Superior Murphy checked the roll book knowing she'd have two new girls joining St. Patrick's Parochial School before too long.
Meanwhile Grace kept to her goal. She made Allie and Jamie sit in the rear seat of the car and hold hands as she drove to the toy store. In minutes, the red-faced boys, still holding hands, were heading towards the check-out each clutching a pretty doll clad in a petticoated party dress in their free arm. The boys wished the ground would open and swallow them. They desperately hoped no one they knew would see them.
The other customers did numerous double takes as they caught sight of the teenage sissy duo holding hands and carrying dolls. Many chuckled, more goggled, and few laughed outright. At the check-out stood a pretty girl of about nineteen. Just three hours ago Alec and James would have been elbowing each other in a testosterone filled effort to check out the cute cashier. The cashier smiled as the now very much subdued brothers timidly held out their dollies to be scanned into the register.
"My, you two sweetie pies have selected darling dollies," she gushed. "I bet you can't wait to get home and have a tea party with them!"
"Can we please carry our dollies," Allie asked after a not so gentle but very meaningful nudge from his mother.
"Of course you may," the cashier replied as she restrained a giggle. "That is if your mommy says it's all right."
"My darling sissies have my permission to carry their pretty new dollies," Grace declared as the boys tried to make themselves smaller.
"Then by all means you may carry your new dollies," the cashier answered. "I'd like to compliment you on your sissies, ma'am. They are certainly adorable!"
"Thank you," Grace replied. "Allie, Jamie, thank the kind lady for the compliment."
Reluctantly, but with the desire to comply in order to get out of the store and back into the safety of the car the boys curtseyed and said "Thank You."
Although they wanted to run from the store, Allie and Jamie had already learned that such actions would be punished and neither wanted any further punishments.
While Allie and Jamie were shopping for their new dolls, back in Patti's bedroom Heather grew quiet and thoughtful as she looked out Patti's bedroom window and saw the old oak tree silhouetted in the sunset. Leslie and Patti knew some devious plot was percolating through the new girl's mind.
"So what wild idea are you dreaming up this time," Leslie finally asked when the silence stretched beyond her endurance.
"Oh, I was just feeling a bit sorry for Allie and Jamie," Heather replied softly.
"Sorry," Patti asked in confusion. "You're the one who made the wish they become girls. You said they deserved it. Why the second thoughts?"
"I'm not sorry I wished they'd become girls," Heather replied. "I just don't feel right about them having to be sissies first. They'll take a lot of teasing and harassment until they finally make the transition into girlhood. No one deserves that kind of teasing."
"Well why don't you try to wish that they not be teased," Leslie asked.
"That won't work," Patti answered. "Magic has to work slowly in it's own manner. If any boy Heather wishes to become a girl has to spend time as a sissy, he'll be stuck with the consequences. There's nothing Heather can do to stop the torment."
"You're right, I can't stop the teasing," Heather giggled. "But maybe I can do something to fix anyone who teases a boy in transition. Let me think."
Leslie and Patti exchanged smiles. They had every confidence Heather would find a way to make such a wish.
"I think I have it," Heather giggled as she stood at the window and spoke to the tree.
"Ancient druid oak tree, this wish if I may;
change a changeling's teaser to a girl I say;
cast the transformation spell without delay;
let nature a suitable course chart the way;
let magic make him a girl, begin today!"
The branches of the old oak began to quiver and the leaves fallen about it's trunk swirled high in the air. A mini tornado filled with swirling leaves swept across the lawn to gently buffet Patti's bedroom window. the leaves hitting the glass seemed to create a cackly whispery voice.
"By your wish, Heather, druidic power hired;
let a changeling's teaser a girl be rewired.
To stay a boy he is no longer desired;
so nature, let this lad from boyhood be fired;
soon as a girl he'll be happily attired!"
The wind disappeared and the leaves fell to the ground.
"It worked," Patti exclaimed. "I wonder how many boys will tease Allie and Jamie? This could get quite interesting."
"You know, Heather, you could really have set something massive in motion here," Leslie replied thoughtfully. "All three of us are changelings. If some boy teases us, will he be automatically placed under a feminizing spell?"
"You're right," Patti declared with growing excitement. "Since your spell was accepted, nature should do such transformations. Any boy who teases a girl who once was a boy should be effected since you used a generic term CHANGELING rather than Allie's and Jamie's specific names. This could really prove interesting."
As Grace, Allie, and Jamie left the toy store a mother and son were entering. The boy of about twelve pointed at them and began to laugh uproariously. "Look at the sissies," he guffawed, never suspecting that Heather's wish had just doomed him to girlhood.
In the otherwise still air, a tiny whirlpool formed at the side of the building. Leaves and bits of paper swirled about in the small cyclone. Suddenly it gusted from the side of the building and bounced into the air. Everyone's attention was momentarily drawn to the rustling cacophony as the wind blew about them. The small tornado spiraled about above their heads, then for a brief instant it dropped so the point touched the head of the boy who had teased Allie and Jamie. With that contact, the wind dissipated just as quickly and mysteriously as it began. Mother nature had cast the spell Heather had ordained.
"Look at the sissies cowering behind their mommy for protection from the big bad mean old wind," the cocky boy teased. "What a couple of weenies!"
Everyone forgot about the weird little breeze. The mother of the teasing boy was obviously humiliated by her son's crude behavior and unsuccessfully tried to shush the rude boy. Grace gave the boy and his mother a steely glare and paused for a moment while Allie and Jamie attempted to hide behind her.
"I'd like to apologize for my rude son," the woman stated as she grabbed her son by the collar and gave him a yank. For too long she had allowed the bratty boy to do as he pleased. Now she felt empowered to finally do something. "I was admiring your sweet darlings when he began to make a scene. I wish I could control him as easily as you handle your two darlings. I wish I knew your secret since I certainly could use some help taming my little monster."
The boy instantly stopped laughing when he was jerked off balance by his mother. In fact, he'd have fallen if she had not maintained a firm grip on his collar. As it was he stumbled and twisted about like an out of control marionette for a few seconds until he caught his balance. Anger flared at the rough manner he'd been treated. His ire was aggravated by the not too subtle discussion between his mother and this strange woman. "What the fuck do you think you're doing," he snarled as he yanked himself from his mother's grasp only to fall backwards to land unceremoniously upon his ass.
"Robert Joseph Waters," his mother scolded. "I will not longer tolerate such foul language. You will apologize at once!"
Robert was stunned by his mother's actions. Normally she whimpered and whined and begged him to behave. Swearing had always been a sure way to get her to simply leave him alone because she was appalled by such crudity. But now that had all suddenly changed. It almost seemed as if this strange woman had empowered his mother to finally do something about his self-centered behavior. She'd never before manhandled him. She'd never before publically scolded him. She most certainly never demanded that he apologize for swearing. All Robert could do was sit on his butt in shock and stare blankly up at his mother.
With a sinister smile Grace pulled a business card from her purse and gave it to the woman. "My name is Grace Henry," she told the angry woman. "Until recently my children were just as uncouth as your boy but I've recently discovered a VERY effective manner of correcting their aberrant behavior. As you can see my methods work quite well. I'd be delighted to assist you in correcting your son's crude behavior. Please call me so we can discuss the situation."
"Thank you," the woman replied as she took the card. "My name is Lydia Waters. I'd really like to learn all about your method, especially since my bratty son can't seem to find his voice to apologize. Bobby, wouldn't you like to learn how to be as nice as these boys?"
The boy instantly stopped laughing as his mother accepted the card and glowered at him. Terror filled his heart as he thought of undergoing whatever discipline the two sissies in front of him had endured. Desperately he sought a way to escape a similar fate and to erase some of the humiliation he felt for being manhandled by his mother and winding up on his butt. But one glance at Grace's determined face took the wind out of his indignant sails. Robert winced and cowered before Grace's unflinching predatory smile and his mother's sudden empowerment. It'd been years since his mother had called him Bobby. He'd put a stop to that when he was seven. Now she had blatantly returned to that diminutive form of his name. By the looks of Allie and Jamie he knew he was in deep shit. He had no idea what to do or say. Awkwardly, he struggled to his feet and meekly dusted off his backside.
"I hate to correct you," Grace declared. "But part of the discipline program is that the children are never referred to as boys. Calling them boys seems to let them think they have the right to be crude and self-centered. It just fuels their testosterone driven need to constantly prove their manhood. It is also necessary to use a diminutive for of their name since it reminds them they must earn the right to use their full proper name. My children are sissies. Allie, Jamie, please tell the lady what you are."
Like the good little sissies they were rapidly becoming the boys emerged from behind their mother and smiled sweetly as they curtseyed to the woman and her now cowering son. "We are simpering sissies," the boys announced in unison before curtseying once more.
"Thank you for correcting my error," Lydia replied obviously delighted by the sissy display. "I really think my child will benefit from your expertise."
"I'm sure the dear little thing will be greatly improved," Grace announced. "If you're truly serious about disciplining him, we'll be attending a Victorian Tea on Saturday afternoon. Allie, Jamie, and three girls will be attending. It would be nice to have a third male to properly round out the party."
"It's been simply ages since I attended a formal Victorian Tea," Lydia exclaimed with growing excitement. "I think it would be a tremendous educational experience for my child. I will definitely be giving you a call. I'm sure my child will benefit greatly from your methods and attending the Victorian tea. Isn't that right, Bobbi?"
Robert really wanted to run away. The educational experience of a Victorian Tea party was something he could do without. But he was too terrified. The sad, defeated looks in the eyes of the two older sissy boys told him they had been thoroughly demoralized and humiliated. Now he seemed to be facing the same possibilities. "Ah, mom, I can't go to a tea party on Saturday afternoon," Robert explained weakly. "Dad and I are going to watch the Penn State/Michigan football game. Besides, if it's a Victorian Tea party, I don't have anything to wear."
"My children tried to use that excuse too," Grace chuckled. "If the game is that important, simply tape it and watch it later. The chance to experience a formal Victorian Tea party does not come along too often and should not be missed. As far as a costume, simply take him to FairyTale Fashions. Ask for the owner, Olivia Childress. Tell her you and Bobbi have been invited to attend the Tea Party at the Balkut Estate on Saturday. The three girls and my children were just fitted for their party outfits not thirty minutes ago. I'm sure if you go right over, Olivia will see that Bobbi is properly outfitted for the Tea."
"You're really too kind," Lydia gushed with excitement. "Bobbi and I will head right over to FairyTale Fashions so he can be fitted for an outfit. Now, child, let's get back into the car."
"But mom," Robert cried desperately as he sought a way to avoid going to FairyTale Fashions. "We didn't get my new football."
"You will not be getting a new football after the shameful way you've behaved," Lydia scolded as she grabbed his shoulder and half pulled/half dragged her son back into the parking lot.. "Now get in the car!"
"But mom," Robert moaned as he stumbled along. "The guys are depending on me to bring a new football to the game we planned. I'm supposed to meet them at the field behind the school as soon as we get the ball."
"For you there will be no football game at the school, not today, not tomorrow, not ever," Lydia declared. "I've had it with your bad attitude. There are going to be a lot of changes around our home. You WILL learn to listen!"
With that she shoved the boy into the car, went around to the passenger side, got in, started the car, and pulled out headed for FairyTale Fashions. Robert had never seen his mother so livid before and wisely kept quiet while sulking against the door. He felt confident his father would overrule his mother. Until then, he'd better do as his mother said to avoid an outright confrontation. Only one time before, four years ago, his mother had insisted he go to a concert, something he didn't want to do. He'd fought her tooth and nail but she still insisted he go. By the time his father got involved, it was too late. Robert had been so obstinate his father made him go to the concert. Later, his father told him that he would have overruled his mother if he had not fought her and waited until he arrived home to make the final judgement. His father warned him not to disobey his mother again. Robert remembered and bided his time. He figured it'd be rough going at FairyTale Fashions, but if he kept cool, he'd win out in the end.
Lydia was worried as she drove. Her heart was pounding with anxiety. She had no idea why she'd come down on Robert so hard, not that he didn't deserve it. But she too remembered how Tony, her husband, had sided with Robert but made the boy do as she wanted as punishment for fighting her. Now she was headed to have him outfitted for a Victorian Tea that his father would never make him attend... unless Robert openly and defiantly rebelled while being outfitted for the Victorian Tea. She knew Robert would get his football and go out to play with the guys... unless Robert openly and defiantly rebelled while being outfitted for the Victorian Tea. With a twinge of guilt, she thought about pushing the boy until he did rebel so her husband would make him attend the Victorian Tea as punishment. Tonight, at least, she could get a bit of satisfaction by forcing the recalcitrant boy to do as she wanted. She knew he'd do his best not to fight in order to get his father's support. With a sigh she thought of how sweet Allie and Jamie had been and longed to have Robert be so well behaved. What really hurt was that she did want to attend the Victorian Tea and truly thought it would be a good experience for Bobbi. With a sigh she decided not to get her hopes too high.
When Lydia left the parking lot, Grace complimented Allie and Jamie on their behavior. The boys smiled, although quite tentatively, for the first time since their ordeal began. Once they were all in the car, she called FairyTale Fashions to alert Olivia that Lydia and Bobbi were on their way. Then Grace and her sissy children headed for home.
As Lydia drove to FairyTale Fashions an exciting thought occurred to her. Grace had said the Tea Party would be at the Balkut Estate! That had to be Hillary Balkut! Tony owned a computer business that was just barely in the black. "Water's Systems: Flowing with the times," was the company slogan. He had been complaining just last night that he was trying to land a lucrative contract to upgrade the computer system for Balkut Engineering but that the competition was cut throat. He claimed he needed an edge to squeeze out the competition but had no idea what to do. Complicating the problem was that Hillary Balkut, the new owner, was a dedicated feminist and expected high social standards from her employees and suppliers. She had little to do with macho suppliers and had cleared house of all macho employees. But if he landed the deal, he told her, his business would be solidly in the black.
Obviously, if she and Bobbi attended the Victorian Tea Party, Tony could use that as the edge he needed. Attendance by Lydia and Bobbi would indicate that he was not overtly macho and had high social standards. Lydia's heart leapt for joy. If Olivia Childress could confirm that the Tea Party was being conducted by Hillary Balkut, she felt confident she could twist Tony's arm to let her and Bobbi attend.
Robert almost wet himself as he reluctantly allowed his mother to drag him into FairyTale Fashions. He had decided he would not cooperate but would not resist so hard so that his father would side with his mother. But the tough seventh grader was not prepared for the overt femininity of the store. He was shocked into silence as he numbly followed his mother into the den of femininity.
Olivia spotted Lydia and Bobbi the instant they walked into the store. She smiled as she recognized the terror on the boy's face and the gleam in the mother's eyes. Signaling Stephanie, they made a beeline for the duo.
"Hello, I'm Olivia Childress and this is my daughter Stephanie," Olivia greeted Lydia. "You must be Lydia Waters and this must be Bobbi. Grace called me to say you were on your way."
"Yes, I am Lydia Waters and this is Bobbi," Lydia replied with a smile. "I just met Grace and I could tell she is quite a woman."
"Yes she is," Olivia answered. "Stephanie, please take Bobbi to a dressing room and help him disrobe while I show Lydia the outfit."
Stephanie hooked Bobbi's arm and tugged him towards the rear of the store. The befuddled boy stumbled along as Olivia's words slowly sank into his numbed mind. The pubescent boy wanted to bolt form the prissy store but had enough stamina to stay the course. The idea of disrobing was repugnant, the thought of this cute girl helping was terrifying yet exciting. There was just enough testosterone in his body to make him accompany Stephanie.
Olivia showed Lydia the Lord Fauntleroy outfit and confirmed that the exclusive Tea was indeed being sponsored by Hillary Balkut. Lydia quickly confided her concerns and hopes about attending the tea. Olivia concurred and explained about Stephanie having once been her son and how she could use the fitting to crush Bobbi's incipient manhood. Lydia heartily approved and gave Olivia the okay to do her worst to her arrogant bratty son. While Stephanie worked on Bobbi and Olivia gathered the clothes, Lydia called Tony.
"Tony, I have the most wonderful news," Lydia exclaimed when she finally reached him. "I've started making preparations but I need your approval to carry everything through."
"What are you talking about," Tony asked knowing how crazy some of her ideas could be.
"I think I found the edge you need to get the contract with Balkut Engineering," she explained.
"And just what that might be," Tony asked now certain it had to be one of her crazy plans.
"You said Hillary was a feminist who disliked macho guys and that she had high social expectations, right," Lydia asked.
"Yes," Tony answered cautiously wondering what his wife had come up with.
"Well, Bobbi and I had a little run in outside the toy store tonight," Lydia explained as Tony sighed knowing he wasn't going to like this, especially if she was calling Robert Bobby. "A lady came out with her sons and the boys were carrying dolls. Bobbi began laughing and calling them sissies."
"Well they sound like they are sissies," Tony declared.
"Tony, not you too," Lydia complained. "Remember, Hillary Balkut doesn't like that kind of macho attitude."
"All right, all right," Tony snapped back. "Oh no, don't tell me the woman was Hillary Balkut," he hastily asked.
"No. it wasn't Hillary," Lydia sighed. "If you'll let me tell you what happened you'll understand."
"Okay, okay," Tony demurred knowing it was the quickest way to get the story out of his wife.
"Well, when Bobbi began teasing those poor brothers, I asked him to stop," Lydia explained. "Not only because he was being rude and making a scene, but because he was embarrassing me and making a fool out of himself. After all, we were standing right in front of store by the entrance. You can see that, can't you?"
"Yes," Tony admitted a bit reluctantly knowing modern civility demanded better manners. Public teasing was not condoned. Yet if confronted by a similar scene he knew he'd have probably done the same and thus couldn't really blame Robert.
"Bobbi ignored me, he absolutely ignored me and continued teasing," Lydia stated indignantly. "We have discussed that issue many times and we all know that he is to obey me pending discussion and review with you."
"Of course," Tony answered tiredly. They had discussed this and Robert knew he was to obey his mother until appeal. "So what happened then?"
"I grabbed him by the collar to get his attention," Lydia replied. "Then I apologized to the woman for his crude manners and told her that I admired the control she had over her sons. Unfortunately, Bobbi was so intent on teasing the poor brothers that when I grabbed his shirt collar, he almost fell. If I hadn't had a firm grip, he would have fallen. He caught his balance while I was apologizing and he looked at me and said "What the fuck do you think you're doing!" in a most nasty tone of voice. Then he yanked himself free of my grip and promptly fell on his butt. Naturally, I was absolutely infuriated that he dared use such language in public, especially to me! I told him I was angry about using such vile language and ordered him to apologize."
"He knows better than to do something like that," Tony agreed angrily. "I WILL have a most thorough discussion with him when I get home."
"Of course you will," Lydia agreed in a voice that left him know that the matter was not even a point of discussion. "You will also back up the punishment I've decided upon because that is how you will get the Balkut contract."
"Huh," Tony replied confused by the connection. "What are you talking about?"
"The mother of the brothers gave me her business card at that point and told me that she could see I had my hands full with Bobbi and that until recently she had the same problems with her sons," Lydia explained. "She said she had discovered the perfect way to settle unruly rude boys. Then she offered to help me to use her method on Bobbi and that I should call her for details. During this time Bobbi just sat on his butt stunned that I was so angry with him."
"Well, I thanked her for the card and said I'd be sure to call her," Lydia explained. "Then while Bobbi got to his feet I asked him if he'd like to become as well behaved as her boys. Grace Henry, the woman who gave me her card, corrected me. She explained that using the term BOY only fueled the testosterone driven need for a boy to prove his manhood. She refers to her sons as children, not boys, and always uses a diminutive of their name to remind them that they must earn the right to use their correct name. What she basically explained was that the way to tame an out of control, disrespectful boy was to shut down his ability to prove his manhood. You know yourself, Tony, that she is right. Every time Bobbi gets into trouble it's because he's so busy being a macho guy he forgets to be human."
"Yes, I can see that," Tony reluctantly admitted. Even though Tony didn't like the direction of the conversation, he did know what his wife said was true. It also explained why she was calling Robert Bobby. He had to admit it would be a very effective tactic.
"Grace went on to explain that her sons were sissies," Lydia continued. "She even had her darling children tell me that they were sissies and they curtseyed politely while doing it!"
"She made them curtsey and admit they were sissies," Tony exclaimed. "Don't take this the wrong way but it does sound like they really must be a couple of sissies. You just don't say that you think they're sissies, one keeps his opinions to himself. How old were these CHILDREN, six or seven?"
"Oh heavens no," Lydia explained. "Allie is fifteen and Jamie is fourteen." Lydia ignored the gasp of surprise she heard from Tony and continued. "She then suggested that if I was serious about correcting Bobbi's behavior that he and I attend a Victorian Tea party on Saturday afternoon where formal manners would be the rule. She said her children and three girls would be attending and that Bobbi 's attendance would round out the group. Naturally I was thrilled with the idea. It would be a tremendous experience for Bobbi."
"A Victorian Tea party," Tony exclaimed. "I thought those things were extinct. I can imagine how Bobby responded to that!"
"Actually he didn't do too badly," Lydia replied. "I think he was pretty well cowed by my actions and the obvious results of the disciplinary scheme Grace was using. I think he finally remembered that he was supposed to listen to me. He was quite scared that I was even talking to Grace. Instead of getting nasty, he explained that he and you were planning to watch a football game on Saturday afternoon and that he didn't have anything to wear to a Victorian Tea Party."
Well, maybe there is hope for him," Tony smiled. "He did make two good points."
"Yes, but Grace said that if the game was that important he should tape it. She told us to go to FairyTale Fashions to be fitted for a proper costume for the Tea party. She said she’d just come from having her boys fitted and that the three girls had been there getting outfitted. All I had to do was take Bobbi and tell Olivia Childress, the owner, that Bobbi and I would be attending the Tea. That's just what I've done. Bobbi is in the back being fitted right now. That's why I called. It'll cost a couple of hundred dollars to do it right plus you'll need to change your plans about watching that football game. Bobbi is reluctantly going along with everything but I know he's just waiting to beg you to cancel the whole thing. I want to know if you're going to back me on this before I go any further."
"Lydia, you now I'd like to back you on this," Tony began searching for the right words to keep Lydia from becoming upset. "But Bobbi and I already had a commitment for that game and we have stressed it's important to keep one's commitments."
"Oh I fully agree," Lydia replied. "I'm using revoking the privilege of watching the game as punishment for swearing at me. Besides, that Victorian Tea Party is the key to getting the contract with Balkut Engineering."
"Well I guess I can see revoking the game would be a suitable punishment for swearing," Tony conceded. "But what does the Victorian Tea Party have to do with Balkut Engineering?"
"The Victorian Tea Party is being held on the Balkut estate," Lydia explained. "Hillary Balkut is hosting it. Her daughter Leslie and her ward Heather are two of the girls attending. The other girl is the Irish niece of Mother Superior Murphy from over at St. Patrick's. WHAT effect do YOU think having Bobbi attending the Victorian Tea Party and making a good impression will have on your ability to land the contract with Balkut Engineering?"
Everything fell into place. Tony's eyes lit up with dollar signs. For once Lydia's often crazy schemes seemed quite desirable. "You're right," Tony responded with excitement. "I'll tape the game on Saturday and attend this Victorian Tea Party myself."
"That's wonderful," Lydia exclaimed delighted that her devious plot was succeeding. "You do know that Bobbi is going to have to wear an extremely sissy outfit. Do you know what a little Lord Fauntleroy outfit looks like?"
Tony winced. He recalled seeing that type of outfit. It was just one step short of actually wearing a girl's party dress. "Bobbi won't be happy."
"That's an understatement," Lydia agreed. "Which leads to the reason for this call. You are going to have to back me 100 percent on this. No waffling, no buts, and no reprieves, agreed?"
"Yes, I agree," Tony sighed knowing he had no choice if he hoped to gain enough of an edge to land the Balkut Engineering deal.
"Great," Lydia replied as she barely controlled her glee. Then another devious plot twist occurred to her. "Perhaps it'd be better if you came over here and saw Bobbi in his outfit. If he knows you approve once you see him in it, it'll go a long way in forcing him to cooperate. I'll have to spend virtually all our spare time between now and the tea teaching him the correct manners. The only way I can hope to succeed is if he knows you're 100 percent behind me."
"You're right," Tony declared. "I'll be right over."
"Great," Lydia replied. "I'll call Grace and see if it'll be possible for you to attend. If you can, we'll have to get you a suitable outfit and you can join Bobbi in learning the proper manners."
"Okay," Tony winced at the idea of getting into a sissy outfit. But again the greedy dollar signs overrode his macho apprehension. In moments he was in the car heading over to FairyTale Fashions.
Lydia called Grace and asked about the possibility of having Tony attend the tea. At first Grace was hesitant, but then decided the idea had virtue, especially after Lydia suggested Tony don a Lord Fauntleroy outfit too. Grace pictured Richard similarly attired.
"Let me contact Hillary Balkut," Grace told Lydia. "Now that you have brought the matter up, I like the idea. If Hillary approves, I'll have my husband outfitted and attend too. I'll call Hillary now and get right back to you."
Ten minutes later, Grace called FairyTale Fashions and spoke to Olivia and Lydia. Hillary loved the idea of having two adult men attend the tea in Lord Fauntleroy outfits.
While all that was going on, poor Bobbi had been stripped to the buff and dressed in pretty lace trimmed baby blue satin panties and camisole. Except for a single brief struggle at the start when Bobbi saw the underwear he was expected to put on, Stephanie had little resistance. Bobbi had already been down to his normal underwear and began to become agitated. At that point Stephanie told him that he'd put on a dress if that's what she wanted. Bobbie had enough and tried to fight. Stephanie used her martial arts skills to flip the unsuspecting boy to the floor and painfully twist his arm behind his back until he agreed to don whatever she gave him. The red-eyed humiliated boy bided his time, confident that his injured masculinity would be restored and his mother suitably chastised once his father discovered what had happened.
Stephanie tugged off his jockey shorts and deftly slipped the wispy satin stretch panties up his still hairless legs. Robert's hands shook with barely controlled but totally impotent fury as they lace about the leg openings tickled his legs as she pulled them up and snugged them about his waist and hips. Yet despite his anger and humiliation, the stretchy silken fabric felt cooly sexy and deliciously warm as it hugged and caressed his prepubescent male organs.
"Push your balls up into your body and tuck your penis back between your butt cheeks," Stephanie ordered. "Then pull your panties snugly into place to hold everything where you put it. If you don't, I will."
Swiftly he did as she said. Fortunately, since he hadn't yet entered puberty his stuffed, cramped balls only ached a bit but his tucked manhood felt quite compressed and small. Looking down, he saw only what looked like a flat, girlish groin. For a twelve year old boy who knew about sex but had yet to experience it, this difference was quite traumatic. Stephanie tugged off his familiar t-shirt and slipped a silken wispy stretch satin sleeveless undershirt over his head. The lace trim about the around neck tickled as did the lace trim on the arm holes. The lace trimmed waist ended just above the top of the panties. The cool silken fabric clung to his flat tummy and was too short to tuck into their panties. About a half inch of white flesh was visible between the top and his panties.
In moments Robert was wearing baby blue nylon tights which made his legs look girlishly shapely. Dainty baby blue nylon anklets were slipped over his feet. An inch wide ruffle of delicate baby blue lace formed darling turned down sissy cuffs at his trim ankles. Next came baby blue velvet shorts that clung to his thighs and buttocks like a second skin. Much to his embarrassment the shorts buttoned up the rear like girls shorts and had no front opening and no pockets. Robert had to suck in his tummy as far as he could and held his breath as he was buttoned securely into the sissy shorts. The sissy velvet shorts ended six inches above his knees in dainty inch wide ruffles of delicate baby blue lace.
A baby blue velvet blouse buttoned up the back to lock him inside the sissy garment. Inch wide double ruffles of baby blue lace accentuated the faux seams of the double breasted front. A broad baby blue velvet Peter Pan style overlay trimmed in delicate baby blue lace surrounded the two inch high lace trimmed neck. A baby blue satin ribbon was tied into a Buster Brown style bowtie over the high neck. A baby blue lace jabot seemed to erupt below the huge bowtie. The skin tight velvet long sleeves of the blouse severely restricted all arm movement and ended at his wrists in floppy four inch wide ruffled cuffs edged in baby blue lace. The oversize cuffs engulfed three quarters of his hand. Keeping such cuffs clean would require close attention to every movement.
A three quarter length blue velvet collarless jacket went over the blouse. The rounded back and scooped sides were designed not to close but to reveal the sissy blouse beneath. The main hem of the jacket ran about the bottom in back and right up the open sides and around the neck. This long hem was accented by a baby blue satin ribbon threaded through the velvet a half inch above the hem. The three quarter length loose sleeves called attention to the snug sleeves of the blouse. As with every other article of the outfit, baby blue lace decorated every hem and edge.
Baby blue kidskin gloves were fitted onto Robert's hands. The gloves were so tight it was impossible for him to make a fist. Baby blue patent leather T-strap shoes with one inch heels were slipped on his feet. The heels and soles of the sissy shoes had numerous metal taps permanently inserted so every step on a hard surface would result in a resounding CLICK. The metal would also make movement tenuous as it would severely cut the gripping power of the sole. Any attempt at walking rapidly or taking long strides would most likely result in a slip and fall. A small baby blue patent leather shoulder bag would carry tissues and any other necessities the boy might need. The crowning touch was a baby blue velvet beret with a center tassle of baby blue lace.
Robert burst into tears of utter shame as he saw his sissy reflection. He looked worse than Allie and Jamie
"You look simply adorable," Stephanie laughed at his anguish. "Your outfit is identical to the ones Allie and Jamie will be wearing. You look as cute as Allie and Jamie did when they were in their outfits. You'd look even better in a dress. You really should be a girl. You're much too pretty to be a boy."
Robert hid his eyes and cried. He knew his mother would simply love him in this sissy outfit. The helpless boy struggled to maintain his fury knowing that he just had to hang on until his father straightened this mess out.
When Tony arrived at FairyTale Fashions, Olivia and Lydia greeted him. Olivia led the couple to her office where she turned on a TV set where they were able to see Robert in the dressing room via a security camera. The image that greeted them was just as Robert saw his sissy reflection. Fortunately the sound was turned off so they couldn't hear what Stephanie was saying. Since her back was to the camera, they didn't even know she was speaking. All they saw was Robert looking at his reflection and bursting into tears. Olivia inconspicuously flipped a switch. A chime sounded softly in the dressing room and a tiny light on the camera began to flash. This was a signal to Stephanie that she was being monitored and that in 30 seconds those watching would also be listening. A green flashing meant that the listeners would want to hear teasing and verbal abuse while red flashing light meant that teasing and verbal abuse was not to be used. The red light was flashing so Stephanie knew she had to chose her words to make the boy seem like a sissy without ever condemning him or telling him that he was a sissy.
"As you can see, my daughter Stephanie just completed outfitting Bobbi," Olivia explained as they watched. "Bobbi looks simply darling in that outfit. I'm really glad Hillary Balkut has decided to attempt to revive some of the older traditions such as formal Victorian Tea Parties. So much was lost when they went out of fashion. She's hoping to spark a return to old fashioned good manners and hospitality. She personally selected these darling Lord Fauntleroy costumes. She was quite delighted when you decided to let Bobbi attend and was thrilled when you asked if you could attend. It's so refreshing to find a man who is not obstinately macho."
Tony was upset to see his son dressed up in the ultra sissy outfit but he was even more upset to see Robert burst into tears. Fortunately Olivia began to speak before he could vice his objections to Robert's sissy attire. Her words made him rethink what he was going to say and effectively took the wind out of his stubborn macho sails. The fact that Hillary Balkut had selected the sissy outfit and that she was attempting to revive old fashioned good manners shut down any protestations before they could begin. Tony didn't know what to say but had the strange feeling that he was being set up.
"I'm sure simply wearing an outfit such as that will make Bobbi better behaved and polite," Lydia intoned. "It will be almost impossible to run around and get into trouble while dressed as he is."
"You're so right," Olivia replied. "Grace Henry brought her sons in tonight to be fitted for identical outfits to attend the Tea. They really put up a fight and refused to cooperate so we finally decided to force them into better behaviors and manners."
"How did you do that," Tony asked although he was almost afraid to hear the answer. With seeming impotence he watched his weeping son with growing disgust and humiliation.
"Why we decided to use an old practice that has sadly gone out of style," Olivia explained. "It's called Petticoat Discipline. It requires the offending boy to be dressed fully or partially in girl's clothes. The principal is quite simple. Most bad behavior is due to a boy trying to prove his masculinity. Petticoat discipline denies a boy what he needs to prove his masculinity. It forces him to become a human being first, and a male second."
"I don't like the sound of it," Tony declared. "It sounds like it'll turn a boy into a sissy."
"Why Mr. Waters, are you a male chauvinist," Olivia asked in an accusatory tone of voice. "Hillary Balkut will certainly not like that kind of attitude at her Victorian Tea Party."
"No, I'm not a male chauvinist," Tony replied defensively as he scrambled to salvage his besmirched image.
Before Tony could continue, Stephanie began to talk to Robert. All attention went to the monitor. Olivia knew that Stephanie was an expert about asking the right questions and getting boys to say things they'd normally keep secret in order to impress the pretty girl. Olivia could barely control her anticipation.
"Bobbi, it'll be all right," Stephanie attempted to soothe the distraught boy. "You know wearing this outfit is just temporary. You do want to make a good impression on Ms Balkut at her Victorian Tea Party, don't you?"
"I don't care if wearing this fucking sissy get-up is only temporary," Robert snarled as he looked up fiercely at Stephanie. "I hate wearing this sissy crap! I don't give a flying fuck about making a good impression on some old bitch. Who the hell cares about a freaking Victorian Tea Party? Just wait until my old man hears about this. He'll put a stop to this shit real quick! Then I'm gonna have him sue you and your mother for child abuse!"
Lydia gasped obviously repulsed by Bobbi's crude language. Tony kept silent but winced knowing that Robert had just sealed his fate and would have to be disciplined. Olivia kept a watchful eye on Lydia and Tony to see their reactions.
"Child abuse," Stephanie questioned. "Do you call getting dressed up in nice clothes child abuse?"
"You forced me to put this sissy crap on," Robert shouted back by now livid with rage but restraining himself because he knew Stephanie could kick his butt. "That's child abuse."
Olivia watched as Lydia and Tony became angry as they listened to their son.
"I don't think so," Stephanie replied seriously. "If you bring charges of child abuse, you'll have to publically tell how big mean old Stephanie twisted your arm and made you strip off all your clothes and put on this cute outfit. Are you really that dumb that you want everyone to know how you were dressed?"
"Well, of course not," Robert blustered. "But my old man will straighten you out. You won't get away with this!"
Lydia smirked while Tony bristled at being called old man.
"Your mother really wants you to do this," Stephanie egged the boy on. "Do you always play your father against your mother?"
"Of course," Robert replied with a surly grin. "Mom keeps trying to get me to do all sorts of stuff she thinks is classy or educational. If I fight her about it, then Dad gets pissed at me for not listening to mom even if she is just a dumb woman with crazy ideas. All I gotta do is play along with mom until I can get to dad and tell him how mom's ideas are screwy and that she's trying to turn me into a wimpy sissy. My old man is a real good old boy who knows better than to mess with any of the sissy crap mom keeps coming up with."
Tony turned beet red with embarrassment and anger as he realized that his chip off the old block son had been using him. Lydia smiled with dark satisfaction to see her husband's reaction. She'd tried to tell Tony Bobbi was playing them off against each other but he'd refused to listen. Now he heard it straight from the horse's mouth.
"It sounds like your dad likes to keep women in their proper place," Stephanie said as she gathered up Robert's discarded shoes, jeans, and shirt and placed them in a locker. The door clicked shut ominously but unnoticed by Bobbi. "I've heard a lot of good old boy types feel that way but I've never exactly found out what they expect from women."
"Hell, that's easy," Robert guffawed as he swelled up with macho arrogance despite the way he was dressed. "A woman should serve a man. A woman should keep the house clean, do the laundry, and fix meals. If a man wants sex, the woman should do it."
Tony placed his face in his hands as Robert dug a very deep hole for himself. Lydia bristled at her son's chauvinism. Olivia just smiled knowing Stephanie would get even more out of the boy.
"Does your mother do all that for your dad," Stephanie asked.
"She keeps the house clean, does the laundry, and makes our meals," Robert bragged. All this talk about a woman's proper place was bolstering his shaken boyhood.
"You didn't say anything about sex," Stephanie noted. "Doesn't your mother take care of your father?"
"Not really," Robert sneered. "Mom won't give dad head."
Tony's head shot up in horror at that comment. It was true but how did the little brat know. One quick glance at Lydia told him that she was embarrassed and furious.
"Really," Stephanie asked. "That's a little personal. How do you know about it?"
"Dad has a computer business," Robert explained. "He has his office set up on a computerized surveillance system that he can access at home. I'm no slouch on a computer, so I figured out how to hack into the system. I discovered dad getting head from one of the girls who works for him. They do it every afternoon. It's pretty hot stuff so I tape it cause I'm in school and watch the action when I get home. I heard dad tell Linda that mom doesn't give him head. I must have four or five hours of edited blow-jobs on video."
Tony just sat there stunned into silence. He'd never imagined much less suspected that the office security system could be used to disclose his infidelity. Lydia stared daggers at him and he knew there would be hell to play. He couldn't even deny the charge because the little twerp had taped evidence.
"I just can't understand why a woman would do something like that with a married man," Stephanie stated.
"In Linda's case it's easy," Robert laughed. "She got knocked up when she was fifteen and a sophomore in high school and had to drop out. Without a diploma and a son to support, she couldn't get a decent paying job until Dad hired her. Dad pays her extra for her office expertise." Robert used his fingers as quotation marks for the last two words.
Tony sank down in his chair while Lydia struggled to control her fury. It was only the fact that she could use all this to finally take control that kept her silent.
"How did you find out about that," Stephanie queried.
"Dad was lording it over her one day," Robert chuckled. "Linda told dad she wanted to stop but he told her either she'd do it or she'd be looking for a new job. Women are so dumb!"
"We'll be seeing about that," Lydia hissed as Tony wished the floor would open and swallow him. Olivia was delighted with the revelations. This had to be the absolute best session yet.
"What about women in business," Stephanie asked.
"Well they're all right as secretaries, clerks, and nurses," Robert answered. "Dad says he couldn't really run his office without Linda's organization. But that's all women are good for, to carry out the ideas that guys have. They have to know their place. They have to do what the men want and have to look pretty for men."
"That seems sexist to me," Stephanie said as she gathered Robert's underwear and socks. "I suppose you think women should wear dresses or skirts all the time too."
"Damn right," Robert replied. "Women should be soft and feminine. They should never wear pants."
"What about sports," Stephanie prompted.
"I don’t think girls should play any sports," Robert declared rising to her bait. "Sports are for guys. If they do play sports, they should only play girls sports like field hockey."
"Where did you pick up all these ideas about how women should behave," Stephanie asked.
"One guess," Lydia sighed angrily as Tony wanted to die.
"That's just the way it is," Robert announced smugly. "My old man told me all about it. Oh, he's smart enough not to come right out and say it because those stupid women's libbers would get all pissed. But it's the way he treats mom and other women. I'm smart enough to read between the lines when he scolds me. He says stuff and punishes me because he has to in order to placate mom. But I know he's just doing it for show and that he really approves of what I did."
Lydia and Tony both knew Robert's damning words were cementing Tony's impending doom.
"That's all quite interesting," Stephanie said as she stood by the door with Robert's underwear and socks. "You just wait here while I get your mother. I'll lock the door so no one accidently walks in on you."
"Hey you dumb bitch," Robert exclaimed as Stephanie quickly ducked out the door and closed it behind her. "Come back here! You've got my freaking underwear! Get your cute ass back here you fucking bitch," he yelled as he tried the door to find it locked. "Open this fucking door!" With that he began pounding his fists on the door.
Olivia turned off the monitor, pulled a tape from a VCR, waved it tantalizingly, smiled wickedly, and looked at Lydia and Tony. Tony knew he was in very deep shit and hung his head.
"Your ass is mine," Lydia whispered intently barely controlling her rage. "I've been trying to tell you that Bobbi has been playing us against each other. Well, old man, you've been so hung up on this macho binge of yours that you refused to listen to reason. As for his crude language, just where do you think he learned it? Haven't I been begging you for years to curtail your tongue? But the worst, Mr. FORMER Male Chauvinist Pig, is your little fling with Linda Fritz. Imagine taking advantage of a hapless young lady who had already been abused by a jerk and then rubbing her face in it to keep her as a sex slave. No wonder you can't make a profit! With how many of the other women are you having an affair? Then there's the entire matter of your general disregard for women and me in particular. Right now I'd really like to just kill you. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I know you won't believe me, but I'm truly sorry," Tony stated sincerely. Tony knew he was an out and out male chauvinist. He also knew with the video tapes of his affair that Robert had accumulated he couldn't even begin to deny any of the charges. If Lydia wanted, she could practically kill him without taking his life. Linda Fritz could sue for rape, extortion, blackmail, and sexual harassment. Lydia could get a divorce and receive everything leaving him bankrupt, homeless, and jobless. With the tape Olivia had obviously made of Robert's bragging, Lydia would also undoubtedly receive complete custody of Robert. Tony understood he'd lost everything.
"Oh I believe you're sorry," Lydia replied bitterly. "You're sorry you got caught!"
"Yes, I can't deny that," Tony admitted with genuine contrition. "But I am sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry for hurting Linda. I'm sorry for hurting Robert. I guess my stupid machismo blinded me because I never realized I was having such a negative effect on him. Now I realize that I've been nothing but a chauvinist pig. I know it's not right. But I just can't help myself. You know how I was raised. I had no choice but to grow up to be a chauvinist. Now I've gone and done the same damn thing to Robert. Lydia, I'm simply not strong enough to overcome my bad habits. Please, I do love you and never wanted to hurt you, Robert, or anyone else. It's my damned macho upbringing that makes me do it. Please, I know you can never forgive me for what I've done, but can you please help me to end this downward cycle without destroying our marriage? I'll do whatever you want. Just please, save our family. You and Robert mean more to me than anything else in the world."
"You bastard," Lydia hissed as she reached out and slapped his face. "I love you too. That's what hurts so damned much. I want to save our family too, but I don't know how."
"I understand this is a private matter,"Olivia interrupted. "But I can help. Tony, you sound truly repentant for your chauvinism. I've sat through numerous situations like this but your reaction is something I've never heard before from a man. Normally the man becomes belligerent and blames his wife for forcing him to be as he is. You are obviously intelligent enough to see the errors of male chauvinism but are too weak to resist their abusive use. If you truly meant what you said, there is only one solution. The cure is drastic, you'll hate the solution, and you will not want to do take it. But I can guarantee you that once you've been treated, you'll be happier than you've ever dreamed possible. Your family will be happier, your associates will be happier, everyone will be happier. The question is, are you sincere in your desire to change and are you man enough to take the cure?"
"I'd love to say yes," Tony replied. "Honestly, I don't know. I'm a stubborn, pig headed, weak willed, and frankly frightened."
"Tony, again I'm impressed," Olivia stated. "You've given another honest answer. Lydia, do you love Tony enough to give him another chance if he can be cured of his chauvinism?"
"Yes," Lydia replied. "What is this miraculous cure?"
"It's the same one I started explaining before we watched Bobbi. Petticoat Discipline, extreme Petticoat Discipline, is the only permanent answer. As I started to explain earlier, the offending male is not only dressed as a prissy girl, he's required to behave accordingly and to present the image of a demure young miss at all times. It's the only answer. It never fails. No male that ever undergoes being Petticoated can be a chauvinist. There is a doctor in town that specializes in Petticoating males to correct their behavior. She uses hypnotherapy and if necessary surgery. I can assure you she is quite capable. Are you interested?"
"You mean we'd be putting Tony into dresses," Lydia asked in disbelief.
"Yes, and possibly more, making him so feminine it will be impossible for him to be a man," Olivia explained. "But it's the only way to break the macho cycle. Remember when I was talking about Bobbi and Petticoat Discipline? The procedure works because everything the male needs to be male must be denied."
"That sounds like you're almost talking about one of those sex-changes," Tony nervously commented.
"That is a an option and a distinct possibility," Olivia stated. "I said you had to be sincere in your desire to change and wondered if you were man enough to take the cure."
"I'm sincere in my desire to change," Tony shuddered. "But I know I'm not able to willingly give up my manhood."
"Well I am," Lydia replied firmly. "Either we go see this doctor and you do whatever she suggests... including a sex-change... or all these tapes go to a lawyer and the police. Which will it be?"
"But how can we be husband and wife if I... you know," Tony asked plaintively. "I'd make an ugly woman."
"Dr. Trate is highly skilled," Olivia cut in. "If a sex-change is what she recommends, she would make you quite attractive I've seen her transform an utterly arrogant chauvinistic former forty year old boxer into a gorgeous woman who looks to be about eighteen. Of course, his wife turned him over to a pimp for a year to pay for the surgery and as punishment for adultery. Both have since remarried."
"Tony, despite all you've done I love you," Lydia declared solemnly. "If the doctor requires you to have a sex-change my love for you will not change. I would never turn you into a whore."
"That's really reassuring," Tony replied sarcastically hoping to avoid a sex-change. "But what about our sex life?"
"Like most teenage girls, I experimented with a bit of lesbianism," Lydia informed her startled husband. "The experience was quite satisfactory but it wasn't the kind of sex I wanted then. I wanted a normal male/female relationship. As you well know we've had that for years. Obviously, you were not satisfied. I'm willing to become a lesbian for you. Are you willing to become a lesbian for me if that's what it will take?"
"How can I answer that," Tony cried. "I've spent my entire life being a man. I just can't chuck it all out the window. Besides, what if you get tired of being a lesbian? What happens to me then?"
"You'd go out dating together," Olivia declared. "I know several couples who have done exactly that. What you fail to realize about this procedure is that the transsexual changes are mentally as well as physically. You know men and women think and react differently. It's their hormones. You think and behave like a man because of testosterone, the male sex hormone. That's what makes men so pig-headed and stupid. After a sex-change, there will be no testosterone to make you think and feel the way you do now. After a sex-change, your body would be flooded with female hormones. You'll stop thinking and feeling like a man and begin to think and feel like a woman. It will take time, but it's entirely feasible that after a sex-change, you could actually want sex with a man. Now that isn't necessarily going to be the case, but I've seen it happen quite often."
Tony was beside himself. He wanted to save his family but could not give up his manhood. "I... I still don't think I could do it," Tony gasped as he lost all color.
"How many couples do you know who did this," Lydia asked.
"I knew of six couples," Olivia replied. "Two of them broke up so the former males could marry. I know of many more boys. In fact, my lovely daughter was my son until the age of ten. He was simply too unruly and out of control. Now, as you can see, Stephanie is quite comfortable and happy as a pretty girl."
"That lovely girl was once a boy," Lydia exclaimed with delight picturing the same thing happening to Bobbi. "Did it take a lot of surgery?"
"Only the actual sex-change," Olivia answered. "Boys and girls are pretty much alike until they hit puberty. That's when the physical differentiation occurs. Getting a boy on female hormones before he begins producing testosterone pops him right into puberty as if he had been born a girl."
Tony felt as if he was going to be sick with all this talk about sex-changes. He had been lusting after the curvaceous Stephanie until Robert's antics put an end to such prurient interests. To think that cute girl had once been a boy made his blood run cold. It also firmed up his sagging male pride. "I'm sorry, Lydia, I just can't do that. Even though I'm a slime filled slug, I'm still a man. I just can't give that up after all this time but I am man enough to admit that I've done wrong and won't fight you. I just can't become a woman. If there's some way to maintain my manhood and straighten this mess out so we can still be together, I'll do it. You do whatever you have to do."
"Damn it, Tony," Lydia complained. "You're just damn lucky I really love you. I'm really angry, so angry I should just throw you out and ruin your life. But that won't accomplish a thing and will hurt others beside you. You know without Water's Systems we'd have no income. Plus we'd wind up putting three women out of work, including poor Linda Fritz. At least for now I can't just throw you out but I sure can't let you get away unscathed. Then there's Bobbi to think about. I just don't know what to do."
"Do you by chance own Water's Systems," Olivia asked as an idea sparked in her mind.
"Yes," Tony replied sadly. "But because of my macho escapades I'm barely making ends meet. To be completely honest, I'm here because I've been trying to land a contract with Balkut Engineering. I was hoping to impress Hillary Balkut enough at this Victorian Tea so that she'd give me the contract. I've blown that now. She won't want anything to do with me once she finds out what a chauvinist I am."
"Normally you'd be right," Olivia chuckled. "But your sincerity and contrition seems quite genuine and has impressed me. If you cooperate, things could very well work out."
"How's that," Lydia asked as Tony looked on questioningly.
"Dr. Trate is really the mover and shaker in our little group of good friends who detest macho guys," Olivia explained. "We meet once a month for a business luncheon and discuss our mutual concerns. At our last meeting Hillary was complaining about the lack of female owned and operated technical support businesses. She said she wanted a new computer system for her business but could not find a operation that came up to her standards of conduct and women's participation. It turns out most of us are in the same situation. We all need to upgrade our computer systems. I'm sure if Water's Systems became a wholly female operation, you'd have more business than you could handle."
"Financially, that sounds pretty good," Lydia agreed. "But I don't think I want Tony to give up his manhood completely."
Tony was surprised and grew hopeful at this revelation. "Lydia, I promise to make this up to you. You'll never need to worry about my fidelity again."
"Is it possible to feminize a man while retaining his sexual organs," Lydia asked coldly while staring directly at Tony.
Tony collapsed back in his seat and shuddered as his hopes to retain his male self disappeared.
"Yes it is possible," Olivia answered. "Dr. Trate prefers to complete the transformations, but she has left a few males looking and behaving like women while still retaining their masculine sexual functioning. Lydia, if that's what you and she agree upon, Dr. Trate can do it."
"Don't I have a say in this," Tony asked haplessly. "After all, it is my body."
"Your body, like your ass, is mine," Lydia replied coldly.
"Besides, you don't have a say in this," Olivia added.
"Oh," Tony replied totally shaken by their vehemence. The trapped man understood he'd been quite soundly put in his place, a very helpless place. "Lydia, are you saying you'd like me to become a full time female impersonator but would still remain a man where it counts," Tony asked with grave reservations.
"Not exactly," Lydia replied. "It all depends upon what you mean by remaining a man where it counts. Once I've completed what I intend to do with you you’ll have the best of both worlds. I intend to have you fitted for a chastity belt and I will be the only one with a key. It will hide away your male equipment and make you appear like a female between your legs. At all times and places you will look and behave like an attractive female. The only times you will be allowed to use your male equipment is when I give you permission. We will tell everyone that Tony has gone off on an overseas job and that his sister, Tonia, is temporarily taking over the business and that she's staying with me. Tony will simply never return and Tonia will stay on. That way, if at some point down the road I decide to go all the way and complete your sex-change, we'd simply tell people Tony is staying at his overseas job and Tonia is permanently assuming control of the business."
"Just a minute," Tony declared. "I never said I'd do anything like that. I have no intention of allowing you to turn me into some sort of freaky half man half woman and I certainly will not allow you to lock up my manhood. Damn it, I'm a man, not a sissy."
"Tony, my darling husband, you must remember that you don't have a choice," Lydia harshly cut him off. "If you don't exactly as I want, Linda will be out of work, Bobbi and I will be destitute and homeless, and at best you'll be bankrupt and in jail."
"Lydia, you, Bobbi, Linda, and her son will be taken care of," Olivia assured Lydia. "Our group has always pulled together to help out women who have been hurt by chauvinists. We'd find decent work and a place to live for you just to see an arrogant macho guy get what he deserves."
"I guess I don't have much choice," Tony swallowed his pride knowing he was indeed trapped. "I did say I'd do whatever you wanted as long as I maintained my manhood. I guess this is as close as I'm going to get to doing that. All I ask is that I not look like a fool. If I have to look like a woman, I want to appear convincing so that by outward appearances there can be no embarrassing questions that might reveal that I really am a man. I don't want to look like a dumb bimbo either. If Water's Systems is to prosper, it needs my computer skills and knowledge. I can't do that if I look like a bimbo. Looking like a woman will be terrible enough on it's own." Tony certainly didn't like the idea of being forced to look like woman but he shuddered at the thought of looking like a slutty woman.
"All that can be arranged," Olivia declared. "Especially if you can convince Dr. Trate and Hillary that you are sincerely sorry and contrite about your past chauvinism and are willingly submitting to feminization as punishment."
"I need time to think this over," Tony declared. "It's simply too much too fast."
"You have no time," Olivia declared. "Either I call the police now or you begin your transition into becoming a faux woman by letting me outfit you in a new feminine wardrobe. I'll also fit you with a suitable Victorian Tea gown to wear to the Victorian Tea Party on Saturday afternoon. You'll need your new feminine outfits to wear while Lydia teaches you and Bobbi the etiquette and behavior that will be expected of proper well mannered females. You have five minutes to make up your mind. I'm sure once you explore the feminine world, if you keep an open mind, you'll find the experience exciting."
"What about Bobbi," Tony sheepishly asked suddenly reminded of his errant son by the information that Lydia would be teaching he and Bobbi girlish behavior.
"Bobbi needs to be punished and disciplined for his surly, arrogant, chauvinistic attitudes," Lydia declared. "I plan to institute a strict regime of Petticoat Discipline. Except for school, he will dress and behave like a prissy girl until I am satisfied all traces of his chauvinism have been erased. He also needs to know that not only will you not help him avoid this discipline, but that you fully and unconditionally support the use of Petticoat Discipline. You'll do that by joining him in skirts. If you don't fully cooperate with this, I'll see you end up in jail."
"Lydia, please," Tony begged. "Don't put our son into dresses. It'll scar him for life. Look, I'll get the sex-change right now if you don't use Petticoat Discipline on Bobby."
"I appreciate your concern for Bobbi's well being," Lydia replied cooly. "But it will take such drastic measures to correct him. Perhaps if you'd been as concerned for his well being for the past few years and supported my less stringent attempts at discipline, Petticoat Discipline would not be our last alternative. But now it's too late. Bobbi
will learn how to dress and behave like a prissy girl. If his masculinity can survive, it will. If it doesn't, we'll have a delightful daughter. Now, are you going to help or are you going to jail?"
"Tony, if it's any comfort to you," Olivia interjected. "I have yet to find any boy who didn't come to love being a girl once he was transformed. They hated the idea when they were boys, they detested it during the transition, but every single one has thanked us once they had become girls. What prolongs the agony of making the transition is when the boy has to keep switching back and forth between male and female like you're suggesting for school. Allowing a boy undergoing Petticoat Discipline to be a boy even for the few hours of school just rips the boy apart. He's constantly scared someone will discover his part-time girlhood and tease him. His feminine training will begin to effect his behavior at school as the girlish behavior becomes natural. Imagine how embarrassed a boy would be if someone sees him smoothing his skirt when he takes a seat. I'm afraid allowing a boy under Petticoat Discipline to continue to attend his old school is simply cruel and spiteful. Of course, the boy will not look at the matter like that, but it really is best to remove him from school and transfer him to another school where he can attend as a girl."
"I think you're both a bit crazy to be even consider using Petticoat Discipline and I certainly don't agree with any form of Petticoat Discipline," Tony replied forlornly. "But I also know that I have no choice. I'll cooperate, but only under duress."
"Again I must say that your attitude is most promising," Olivia declared as she pressed several buttons on her camera system. An empty dressing room appeared on a screen and a VCR began to record the view. "Now I'm going to see if you are man enough to take your punishment. We'll put you to the test to see if you're as good as your word. You will come with us into another changing room where Stephanie will fit you with a small feminine wardrobe. Even your underwear and socks will be replaced by women's undies and pantyhose. Once you remove your male underwear and socks, you will never again wear male versions of those clothes. You will cooperate fully with Stephanie in this. Rest assured the entire sequence will be videotaped and your behavior and cooperation will go a long way in determining the continuance of your male organs."
Tony shuddered and meekly followed his wife and Olivia to the dressing room. Stephanie joined them in the room and began to take his measurements as the women left to take care of Bobbi.
"You were right," he grunted. "The damn thing has always gotten me in trouble. Now it won't let me jerk off. Take me to this Dr. Trate! Let her cut the fucking thing off! Let her rip off my balls! Have her give me a complete sex change! I'll fuck the first man you want me to screw. All I ask is that you do it now, tonight, while my hatred for the damned thing is still hot. Do it now, damn it! Do it now!"
"So I understand," Tony sighed as he drank in the sight of the lovely girl. Despite his fear and anxiety, he felt his male libido reacting to her overt girlishness. It seemed impossible that she had ever been male. "Your mother told me that you were her son," he finally blurted out when he could no longer contain his curiosity.
"That's right," Stephanie replied with an impish giggle. "But there's no male left in me now. I can't believe I used to enjoy being an icky boy. The very idea of being a boy seems totally repulsive to me now."
"Was it difficult, you know, changing," Tony asked softly.
"It was terrible," Stephanie explained honestly. "But that was because I was being a stupid stubborn guy. Once I realized life as a girl is better and stopped fighting what had happened, it was a breeze. Guys always have to struggle and constantly prove their manhood. They can't let their guard down for a minute without someone calling them a sissy. That's a horrible way to live. As a girl I can do anything I like. I can laugh and giggle or cry and pout without any fear of condemnation. Let a guy try that and see what happens. Life as a girl is a lot better than life as a boy. Take my word for it, you'll like it if you don't fight it."
"I still find it hard to believe that you were a boy," Tony insisted. "Your mother said you were quite a handful."
"That's putting it mildly," Stephanie sighed. "I can't believe that I actually thought I enjoyed being a bratty boy."
"So... ah... do you... ah...," Tony stammered looking for the right words.
"Yes, I date boys," Stephanie laughed as she began to take the final measurements. "I'm not embarrassed to discuss my sex life with those who like you have a real concern with their future sex lives. I'm still a virgin but I'm not inexperienced either. I try not to go out with jocks though because they only want one thing from a girl, not that I couldn't give it to them."
Despite his embarrassment of being naked before this pretty faux-girl and the all too real fear of a possible sex-change for himself and his son, Tony found himself becoming erect as Stephanie spoke and took the final measurements. His beet red face revealed his frustration over his total lack of control over his rampant member.
"In fact, I'm quite talented in controlling sexually aroused guys," Stephanie cooed softly as she wrapped her fingers about his turgid member. "I've made several guys shoot a load in their pants when they became too aggressive. Nothing cools a guy’s ardor faster than a load of cum in his jockey shorts. That's just one of the things a girl has to learn if she doesn't want to become a slut."
Tony discovered that he was powerless to resist Stephanie's hypnotic-like words as she deftly handled his insistent manhood. His growing terror at this impotence to prevent his imminent feminization had left him unable to think clearly. The situation had so weakened his will that he could not even think of stopping the faux-girl as she brought him ever loser to a climax. Much to his consternation his terror just seemed to increase his very much unwanted arousal. The harder he tried to will his manhood to deflate, the closer he came to going over the edge. It was only a few moments before he uncontrollably erupted.
Stephanie caught his warm seed in her free hand and proudly, tauntingly, held it up to Tony's panting crimson face once he was both physically and emotionally drained.
"Want a taste," Stephanie asked while smiling impishly as she dipped a finger into the steaming jism and slipped it between her pursed pouty lips.
Tony felt his balls shrivel at Stephanie's teasing and repulsively shook his head NO.
"You'll learn to do it sooner or later so why fight it," she added with a fatalistic shrug.
Despite his resolve to face his horrible unwanted fate as a man Tony broke into tears as he watched the smiling faux-girl sensuously devour his seed. What caused the tears was his growing fear that her prediction might just be correct.
"Are you sure you don't want a teensy taste," Stephanie asked in a lilting voice as she smacked her lips. "For most of the guys I get to do this to, this is their last load. If you don't get a taste of it now, your first taste could very well be that of another man."
Tony again shook his head no and continued to sob. Never, he vowed to himself, would he ever consume cum. If he had to become feminine, of which there seemed little doubt, he'd be chaste.
"Suit yourself," Stephanie giggled as she scooped up all of Tony's clothes. "I'll be back in a few minutes with your new wardrobe."
Tony sadly watched the door close as the perky girl left him alone and in the nude. There was little fight left in him. Everything that he held dear was in jeopardy. His business, his wife, his son, and his masculinity. Now that his manhood had been drained he felt wasted. With the subtle relaxation that comes after an orgasm, the testosterone driven animalistic portions of his being seemed to shut down. With the testosterone machismo temporarily off line, he could see that Olivia was right with the theory that most male behavior problems are caused by a testosterone laden body demanding satisfaction at nearly any cost. His damned pecker and balls were the source of all his problems. If he wasn't so damned horny, he wouldn't have gotten sexually involved with Linda. The extra money he paid her for her sexual favors was making the difference between profit and loss for his business. Now that the illicit affair was out in the open it was the reason for his impending gender bending. Even his lack of support for Lydia's method of raising Robert could be traced back to his damned testosterone. Guys often joked that they thought with their balls. Such jokes were merely devises for denying the unsavory truth that guys often do think with their balls. This startling revelation sobered Tony. While he certainly didn't want to become a female, perhaps some feminization wouldn't be such a bad thing. If it gave him conscious control of his testosterone driven libido, becoming a female impersonator was almost worth the cost. With a sigh he decided to tough out his dilemma and cooperate in his impending feminization... as long as he kept a functional penis. His testosterone producing balls, he angrily decided, were quite expendable.
After Stephanie had left him alone, Robert furiously stormed about the dressing room looking for another way out. When he failed to find another exit, he decided to tear off his sissy outfit and put what remained of his clothes back on. There was no way he'd ever allow himself to be seen in public dressed in the sissy outfit he was wearing. With blind fury he shredded the sissy clothes. Buttons popped, lace edging tore, and ribbons flew until he stood clad only in the panties. Breathing heavily from his exertion but with a smile of smug satisfaction he stormed manfully to the locker where Stephanie had placed his outer clothes. The surly smirk quickly disappeared when he discovered his clothes were securely locked up in the locker. This once more fueled his rage. He cursed, screamed, and pounded on the walls and doors to no avail. Everything was solidly built and sound proofed. The angry preteen boy raged about the room until he finally exhausted his testosterone and adrenalin fed fury. Clad only in the sissy panties, he dropped forlornly on the bench, looked forlornly at the shredded fabric remains of the sissy outfit, and waited for the doom he now knew would inevitably come when his mother saw what he'd done. Tears of helplessness and frustration filled his eyes. The only solace he found was the thought that once his father found out about the degrading outfit he'd been forced to put on, he'd be punished but excused for his violent reaction. But at least it'd be a manly punishment and his mother would be in big trouble. It was with these nervous thoughts the boy waited.
After leaving Tony with Stephanie, Lydia entered the dressing room where Bobbi anxiously waited while Olivia went to gather the beginnings of a girlish wardrobe for Bobbi. Lydia stopped and gasped as she looked at the ravaged outfit and her still very much belligerent panty-clad son.
"Mom, you should have seen this freaking sissy outfit they made me put on," he stood and yelled when he saw his mother enter the room. "There is no fucking way I'm ever going to wear a sissy outfit like that. They locked up my clothes and that bitchy girl even took my underwear and socks! Make them bring them back so I can change and get the hell out of here."
"Bobbi, I suggest you settle down and watch your language," Lydia controlled her anger and calmly informed the boy. "The only hell that will be gotten out is the boyish hell inside you. I thought your outfit was simply darling! It's really a shame that you ruined it."
"Darling! Calm down!" Robert yelled. "No fucking way! This shit has already gone too far. Do you know what Dad would’ve said if he had seen me dressed like that? You'll be the one in trouble then!"
"Bobbi, sweetheart," Lydia smiled sweetly. "I've already arranged for you to have other clothing to wear when we go home. I don't think you were listening when I told you that I thought the sissy outfit looked daring on you. Aren't you curious about how I know what you looked like wearing it?"
A sudden sinking feeling began to grow in the pit of Robert's stomach. His mother was much too calm and she had not been in the room to see him wearing the sissy outfit.
"I can see I've got you wondering," Lydia chuckled devilishly. "If I were you at this moment I'd be on my knees begging forgiveness. I think you should know that your father and I were in Ms Childress' office while Stephanie was dressing you in that pretty new outfit you so rudely destroyed. Now I just bet that you haven't noticed the video camera in that corner, have you?"
Robert fearfully followed the direction of his mother's pointing finger to see a video camera with a tiny red light blinking. It was clearly evident he didn't understand what that had to do with anything. "So what," he asked obviously confused but with great trepidation.
"Bobbi, my precious darling Bobbi," Lydia purred. "Olivia, your father, and I watched your performance with Stephanie. Your every word and inflection has been preserved on a video tape... EVERY WORD!"
Suddenly Robert paled as he recalled bragging about how his father always sided with him, how he played his parents against each other, and even worse, all about his father's affair. If both his parents had seen and heard all he'd done and said, Robert knew that while he was in deep shit, his father was in deeper shit. Robert hoped the floor would open and swallow him.
"I really must thank you for revealing your father's affair with Linda," Lydia told the stunned boy. "I guess you can imagine that your father wasn't too happy. Of course, since you so obligingly recorded everything, I now have all the evidence I need to have your father sent off to jail for a very long time. Fortunately, your father was smart enough to know that I have him by the balls."
Robert sank back on the bench and stared at his mother in horror over what he'd done. His father would not be saving him this time. What would happen now?
"I bet you'd never guess that at this very moment your father is in the dressing room right next door being fitted for a new feminine wardrobe," Lydia continued. "With a bit of work I think he'll appear as an attractive woman. What you revealed has left me in total and absolute control of our family. Not only you, but your father as well will have to do exactly what I tell you to do. Now isn't that nice?"
Tears began to fill Robert's eyes as he thought of his father being fitted with women's clothes. If all his mother had said was true, and it obviously was true or his mother wouldn't know about his illicit taping of his father's affair, Robert knew he was in the deepest shit he'd ever imagined. There would most certainly be no help coming from his father.
"I see you understand," Lydia smiled at her crushed son. Then she sobered and continued in a hard, authoritarian voice. "You will do exactly as you are told. Your name is no longer Robert Joseph Waters. Tomorrow I will be contacting a lawyer to have it legally changed to Bobbi Jo Waters. Bobbi will be spelled B-O-B-B-I and JO will be spelled J-O. From this moment forward that is how you will sign all your papers. That is the only name to which you will respond. Is that clear?"
"But mom," Robert cried. "That's the way a girl would spell my name. If I sign my papers and stuff like that, all the guys will crucify me for being a sissy!"
"Of course it's the way a girl spells your name," Lydia replied. "I've decided and have already informed your father that both you and he will be under strict Petticoat Discipline until I am satisfied that every trace of your belligerent chauvinism has been erased from your personality. Since I'm sure you have no idea what Petticoat Discipline is, I'll tell you. Petticoat Discipline denies absolutely everything a male needs to make himself male. A male undergoing Petticoat Discipline has to dress and behave like a prissy girl at all times and places. Your father and you will be undergoing Petticoat Discipline until you both are comfortable wearing nothing but dresses or skirts. Your Petticoat Discipline will continue until you naturally think like a girl. Your Petticoat Discipline will continue until you forget what it feels like to wear pants, play sports, and be a boy. Your petticoat Discipline will continue until you can not behave in any manner other than that of a prissy girl. That is to be your future. The more you resist, the harder the ordeal will be and the longer it will take. Do you understand?"
"You... you've got to be kidding," Robert gasped. "You can't just take a guy and make him become a girl!"
"You, my darling sweet former son, are sadly mistaken," Lydia informed him. "You obviously think Stephanie is a pretty girl or you wouldn't have commented about her cute ass. I'm sure you'll be delighted to know that she was a boy until she was ten. Then her mother became tired of his bratty disregard for proper behavior and turned him into girl."
"No way," Robert declared with growing terror that what his mother was telling him was true. "Stephanie is all girl. There is no way she could ever have been a boy."
"Oh you're so wrong, pretty little Bobbi Jo," Olivia snickered as she entered the room carrying a dress, slip, tights, and black patent leather Mary Janes. "Stephanie was a nasty boy much like you when I put him in a dress much like this one. He never wore pants again. Your mother is about to do the same to you."
"No," Robert cried in fear at the imminent prospect of being permanently petticoated. "Please, mother, don't do this to me. I promise I'll be a good boy."
"It's too late for that now," Lydia stated. "You will do whatever I decide."
"Lydia, you should immediately remove Bobbi Jo from his school," Olivia advised as she turned her back on Bobbi. "Tomorrow morning, put him in this dress and take him to St. Patrick's Parochial School. Mother Superior Murphy is very cooperative about enrolling special girls in her excellent school. The only requirement is that you take Bobbi Jo to see Dr. Cassandra Trate. Dr. Trate will give him the necessary treatments to control his masculinity and enhance his femininity. By Sunday, Bobbi Jo will be a real girl. By Wednesday she will able to safely attend St. Patrick's Parochial School as a polite sedate young miss."
Robert shivered with terror as he listened to his proposed fate. Then he noticed that Olivia had left the door open. Even though he was dressed only in panties, it was far better that wearing the dress Olivia had brought in for him. Quickly he decided this could very will be his last chance to save his boyhood. The desperate boy bolted for the door.
Lydia was startled by Bobbi's lunge for the door and gasped. Olivia had intentionally left the door ajar hoping that the desperate boy would attempt to flee. Her experience told her that bolting would be the boy's reaction to her outline of his future. Even though her back had been turned to Bobbi, she had been keeping an eye on him in the mirror. His nervous glance at the door, his wide open eye as he realized it was open, and his rapid tensing all telegraphed his intentions.
Robert had taken only three steps when he tripped over Olivia's strategically extended leg. The unprepared boy awkwardly stumbled and flailed his arms wildly as he sprawled forward onto his face. Olivia stepped over his prone body to easily push the door which closed with an ominously loud CLICK.
Robert didn't even try to get up. Hopelessly he burst into tears and buried his face in his hands. Life as he had known it was at an end all because he had teased a couple of sissies outside a toy store.
Lydia was furious. "This is exactly the type of behavior I abhor and why I'm going to place you on strict Petticoat Discipline," Lydia seethed as she towered over the sobbing boy. "You shredded the nice outfit you had on because it was too sissyish. You claimed an outfit like that was only fit for sissies. Well, I'm about to grant your request that I get you other clothes. You'll never again have to worry about looking like a sissy. From now on, your main concern will be to look and behave like a prissy girl. Now get up so we can properly clothe you."
Robert couldn't move. Emotionally and physically he had been reduced to a dishrag. He was helplessly immobilized by his terror. Olivia had often seen that reaction when an arrogant boy realized his vaunted boyhood was about to end. With a warning wave to Lydia to ease up, Olivia reached over and tugged on Bobbi's limp arm.
"We're not going to hurt you, Bobbi Jo," Olivia stated softly in a caring voice as she puled him to an upright position. "Please be a good girl and sit up."
Robert shivered impotently as he numbly allowed himself to be leveraged into a sitting position. His ravaged mind swirled with conflicting thoughts and unanswerable questions. Once he was placed in the girl's clothes, how could he escape? Even if he escaped, where could he go? Because of his bragging, his father, the one person who could have saved him, was hog tied and impotent to stop what his mother planned. Then another chilling thought occurred to him. If Stephanie had once been a boy but now obviously looked totally feminine, would the same happen to him? Massive guilt over his bad behavior and disrespect filled him. This guilt demanded that he be punished in reparation for his evil deeds. At the same time anger over his emasculation engulfed him. The result was that his mind swirled in confusion and rendered him incapable of maintaining coherent thought or even completing a thought. Robert's ability to think as an individual, independent human being was thus snarled in a mental traffic jam. However, his mind was numbly able to respond to outside commands. Especially if those commands were made in a caring, sympathetic voice that offered a sense of security and well being.
"Bobbi Jo, let's move over to the bench," Olivia gently commanded the numbed lad as she tugged him to wobbly feet.
Lydia understood what was going on and took Bobbi's other hand and pulled gently. "Come on, princess, let Mommy help you to the bench," she cooed softly.
Robert allowed himself to be moved to the bench where the women promptly but gently stripped him of the baby blue panties. Quickly they slipped a pair of silky lace trimmed pink nylon panties and a matching camisole on his inert body. Together they tugged a pair of pink nylon lace tights over his legs and bottom. Olivia slid a pink nylon slip edged in delicate lace over his head and down his torso as Lydia knelt at his feet to slip the black patent leather Mary Jane shoes onto his feet. Olivia adjusted the straps on the slip while Lydia buckled the shoes firmly to his feet. When Olivia slipped a cotton pink and white gingham high waisted country girl style dress over his head, Lydia assisted by slipping his arms through the full cut long sleeves. Together they tugged Bobbi to his feet, then began to adjust the slip and dress until they hung properly. Olivia adjusted the lace edged round neck opening until it was properly situated. Lydia adjusted the elastic lace edged cuffs so they fit properly at the wrist. About an inch of the scalloped lace edged hem of the slip was visible beneath the the full loose skirt which ended two inches above Bobbi Jo's knees.
The women carefully sat Bobbi Jo back on the bench, making sure to smooth out his skirt as he sat down. Then his mother began to brush and style his brown hair. For once Lydia was happy the boy had gone against the authority of his parents by refusing to get his hair cut. The straight brown locks just reached his shoulders. Lydia brushed a section of hair foreword over his face then quickly trimmed bangs even with his eyebrows. The remaining hair was parted down the center and gathered together into twin ponytails that sprouted just above his ears and dangled down to the middle of his neck. The ponytails were secured in place by strips of pink and white gingham cloth tied into cute bows. While Lydia tended to Bobbi's hair Olivia busied herself filing the now girlish lad's fingernails and applying a bright glossy pink polish. Then she applied a matching gloss to his lips.
By the time they were done, all traces that Bobbi Jo had been an unruly twelve year old girl were eliminated. The women once more helped the girlish figure to her feet, then walked her to the mirrored wall.
"Bobbi Jo, please look in the mirror," Olivia ordered gently. "You'll see that there is not the slightest evidence that you were ever a boy named Robert Joseph. That boy has, for all intents and purposes, died. Only you, Bobbi Jo, a sweet, shy gentle young miss, remain. Look at your reflection, Bobbi Jo, look at yourself. You'll see the truth for yourself."
Lydia stepped back and drank in the sight of her girlish child. Her heart leapt for joy as she saw only a frightened uncertain girl. The mean, arrogant son she'd endured for the last few years had been erased and replaced by this lovely girl. Bobbi Jo was her daughter.
The zombie like boy heard Olivia's instructions and struggled to resist her damning words. There was no way, his stubborn machismo insisted, they could make him look like a dumb girl. Yet the fear that they had succeeded was all too real. The disjointed surreal memories of being clad in the dress and having his hair styled and nails painted swam together into a coherent living nightmare. Robert slowly came out of his mind-numbing fog to focus his eyes on the mirror.
What he saw totally crushed his resurgent chauvinism. The reflection, his reflection, was that of a timid but pretty young girl of about ten. A shiver of terror engulfed his shattered boyhood. They had turned him into a girl! He looked like a pretty girl! No trace of his boyishness remained. Robert Joseph Waters, the tough, arrogant, all-American boy had been eliminated. They had succeeded in transforming him into a shy girl named Bobbi Jo Waters.
"Bobbi Jo, you are the darling daughter I've always wanted," Lydia exclaimed as she hugged him to her. "You look like an adorable ten year old girl. In fact, I think that's what I'm going to do. When the lawyers change your name, I'll also have them remove two years from your age. You'll start school as a ten year old girl in the fourth grade. That way you'll have the opportunity to make up for the wasting the last two years because of your stubborn boyish refusal to do your homework and study. Yes, you'll do nicely as a ten year old girl."
Robert collapsed in tears upon hearing his mother's latest decision. There was no way he could fight her. It was plain to see she'd destroyed his boyhood. All his boyhood hopes, all his boyish dreams, all his manly wants and desires, all were now utterly destroyed and hopelessly unattainable. He no longer felt tough and self-reliant. The swagger, arrogance, and conceit of the macho boy had been eliminated. Robert no longer felt like the cocky boy he'd been outside the toy store. Dressed as a girl, and judging from his reflection, looking like a girl, he felt more like Bobbi Jo, the girl his mother wanted. Bobbi Jo could only cry and buried his face in his mother's comforting bosom.
Tony sat forlornly on the bench waiting for Stephanie to return with the beginnings of his new feminine wardrobe. The inescapable truth was that his manhood was costing him practically everything he held dear. If he failed to cooperate with his feminization and that of his son, it could still easily cost him everything. How many times had he vowed to end his affair with Linda only to have that resolve vanish at the insistence of his balls. Hopefully, the transition into pseudo womanhood would not be too horrible. His biggest worry was that Stephanie might be right about his someday devouring another man's sperm. That was a totally abhorrent prospect. The only way to avoid such a demeaning fate was to cooperate fully. With that settled in his tortured mind, he silently waited while mentally berating himself for his testosterone filled weakness.
Stephanie returned with her arms laden with soft feminine clothes which she placed upon the bench beside the morose Tony. From the top of the pile she handed the shivering naked man a white satin matching bra and panty set.
Tony looked at the sexy teenager. Knowing that she had once been a normal boy shook what little remained of his self-confidence. The fact that he still found Stephanie sexually arousing really disturbed his teetering masculinity. The fact that he, an adult man, had to take orders from the sex-changed teenager only rubbed salt into the open wounds of his chauvinism. Tony meekly accepted the proffered garments with trembling hands. His determination to go through his unwanted ordeal like a man was sorely tested when he laid his eyes upon she shimmering lingerie. A see-saw match in his mind over whether to resist or submit raged briefly but with the rationalization that wearing the feminine garments was better than being nude, he steeled his resolve. Swallowing back the bile he felt rising he gingerly stepped into the silken panties and slowly tugged them up his legs. Being a hot blooded man, Tony had always become aroused whenever he'd caressed a female's silky lingerie. Now that alluring sensuality was reversing, instead of merely feeling the delightful sensations with his fingers, he felt it everywhere the luscious silken fabric touched his flesh. Tiny electric jolts of excitement seemed to explode through his nervous system at even the most minute contact. By the time he'd fumbled the panties to his knees, he once more had an erection. As he snugged the panties into place about his waist, the crotch snugged about his rampant manhood and almost caused him to explode. As it was he almost swooned. Stephanie helped him onto the bench to keep him from falling.
"Take it easy," Stephanie advised Tony. "Take deep breaths. It does take quite a while until you grow accustomed to the erotic feeling of satin lingerie. It's one of the benefits of being able to wear such nice clothes. I can guarantee that once you stop fighting your transformation, you'll simply love wearing sexy lingerie. It just feels so yummy you'll never want to go back to cotton."
"A few moments ago I'd have said you were feeding me a line of bull," Tony replied as he struggled to regain his composure. "Now, I'm afraid you just might be right. No wonder women like to dress up so sexily and drive guys crazy. They don't need a man to turn them on, their damn clothes turn them on! Look, Stephanie, please don't take this the wrong way. I'm not trying to come on to you, but damn it, I need relief down their. Do you think you could... ah... you know... ah... do what you did to me earlier?"
"I wouldn't mind at all," Stephanie giggled. "I've seen this happen to every guy old enough to get an erection when they put on panties. The only problem is that we're being taped and the only way I'm allowed to relieve you is if you promise to lick all your spunk out of my hand and swallow it."
"Oh God," Tony moaned in frustration. "That isn't fair. If I don't get relief soon I'll cum in my panties. Please, can't you do me quickly and just wipe off the mess?" Tony was so delirious with lust that he didn't even notice he had said MY PANTIES.
"Nope," Stephanie replied mischievously as she reached out and began to stroke his erection through the panties. "I have my orders and you have yours. Yours are to obey me or have your manhood removed. Mine are that now that you asked me to relieve you, I am have no choice but to do it. The problem is this. I can not allow you to stop me from touching you down here. You can not remove your panties or otherwise remove your penis from your panties. Only I am allowed to do that. If you mess your pretty panties, they'll cut your pecker and balls right off. So your choice now is to do nothing and let me bring you off in your pretty panties so they'll cut off your male parts or you let me do you so I can catch it in my hand so you can swallow it all. I think you'd better decide soon."
Tony glanced up at the camera and saw the light was on recording everything that occurred. The harder he tried to will himself to resist Stephanie's caresses, the more difficult it became. There was no way he intended to eat his own cum, yet if he didn't, he'd lose the last bit of his manhood Lydia was allowing him to keep. Realizing it would only be a matter of seconds before he came he reached down and grabbed Stephanie's hand to keep her from bringing him off.
"Wait, wait," he gasped as he struggled to stop his imminent ejaculation. "I'll do it, I'll do it, it's just that if you don't give me a chance to catch my breath, I'll come in my panties."
Stephanie knew she could not overpower Tony but she didn't relax her effort to continue manipulating his manhood. "Tell me what you'll do," Stephanie demanded. "Tell me now or you'll lose this piece of manmeat."
"I'll eat my cum," Tony whispered desperately.
"Louder," Stephanie demanded. "Promise to do it."
"I'll eat my cum," Tony declared in a louder quavering voice. "I promise to eat my cum when you bring me off."
"Since you stopped me from bringing you off in your panties before you agreed to swallow your sperm, you need to make a further promise or you'll lose your precious manhood anyway," Stephanie announced realizing she had the defeated man in an inescapable position. "You must promise Lydia, in a clear loud voice while looking straight into the camera, that you will not only suck the first cock she selects for you, you will swallow every drop of that man's hot salty sperm and thank him afterward for allowing you to become a simpering cock sucker."
"Oh God," Tony moaned helplessly. "That's too much. I can't do it."
"Suit yourself," Stephanie announced with a sadistic smile as she stopped attempting to reach his manhood. She shook off his hand and walked away from him heading for the door. "You'll undergo a complete sex-change and instead of that man allowing you to suck him off, he'll fuck your cherry pussy."
"No," Tony exclaimed in horror. Every time he refused or even just hesitated to do something he was ordered to do, the consequences grew worse. "All right, all right," Tony sobbed as he dropped hopelessly to his knees. "You win. Please. Stephanie, jerk me off so I can eat my cum." Turning his wet tear streaked face to the camera he swallowed and began to speak. "Lydia, I promise to suck the cock of the first man you select. I promise to swallow every drop of his hot salty sperm and then thank him for letting me become a simpering cock sucker."
"Not too bad," Stephanie said as she stopped at the door. "But since you didn't cooperate right away, there's a bit more now. "Look at the camera and tell Lydia that you've been such a bad boy that you don't deserve to have anyone jerk you off. Apologize and promise her that you'll jerk yourself off at least twice a day while she watches. Promise that you'll catch your sperm and lick up every drop. Promise that if you are unable to jerk off or if you fail to consume every drop of your cum, that you'll agree to a complete sex-change. Promise that if you ask to have your sex changed you'll give your cherry pussy to the first man she selects for you. Promise again that you'll suck the cock of the first man she selects for you, that you'll swallow his hot salty cum, and then thank him for allowing you to become a simpering cock sucker. Then, since we all know that no REAL man would dare to eat sperm, you will ask Lydia to please change your name to Tonia so you can be the girl you are becoming."
Tony realized that his hesitation had once more upped the consequences. He couldn't afford to lose any more. Much to his chagrin, his erection was quite noticeable as it strained to break free from the silken confines of his panties. Crying steadily he looked at the camera. "Lydia I've been a very bad boy. I know that I don't deserve to have anyone jerk me off. I apologize for being so bad and promise you that I'll jerk myself off at least twice a day while you watch. I promise that I'll catch my sperm and lick up every drop. I promise that if I'm ever unable to jerk off or if I fail to consume every drop of my cum, that I'll agree to a complete sex-change. I promise that if I ask to have my sex changed I'll give my cherry pussy to the first man you select for me. I promise again that I'll suck the cock of the first man you select for me, that I'll swallow his hot salty cum, and then I'll thank him for allowing me to become a simpering cock sucker."
Tony bowed his head in total self disgust and defeat as he sobbed. “Lydia, everyone knows a real man would never eat sperm. Would you please change my name to Tonia so I can be the girl I'm becoming?"
"All right, Tonia, what are you waiting for," Stephanie demanded. "Look into the camera, pull that sorry excuse for a pecker from your pretty panties, and jerk off for us. Look in the camera, grab that disgusting hunk of flesh you're so desperate to save, and smile. We ALL want to see you do yourself and eat you steamy jism. Come on, GIRL, stand up and get with the program."
Tony had felt he couldn't fall any lower when he made the promise to Lydia. Now he knew he not only could fall lower, he had no choice but to do so. Embarrassed to his very core, the shattered man slowly staggered to his feet. Looking in the camera, he forced a weary ragged smile. Unfortunately, his humiliation had the very effect he so desperately wanted just a few moments before. The raging hard-on that had gotten him into this terrible dilemma subsided. Tony became terrified as he realized what had occurred. If he couldn't jerk off and eat his cum, he'd have to ask Lydia for a sex-change!
With growing panic, he hastily reached inside his panties and began to pull on his by then totally deflated manhood. Once more the one-eyed monster refused to obey. Earlier, when he wanted it to stay soft, it adamantly refused. Now that he HAD to get it hard, it simply ignored his increasingly frantic efforts. The harder he tried to get it up, the less responsive it became.
"Damn you, damn you, damn you," Tony cried out in frustration as he pulled his seemingly dead manhood. "You testosterone bastard! You're fucking me over! You betray me every fucking time. You make me do things I know I shouldn't. You don't listen! You fucking bastard!"
To the watching girl the forcefulness of his efforts seemed as if he'd pull his pecker right off his body. Despite his desperate efforts nothing happened. Stephanie could see the man was close to going over the edge and slowly eased her way to the door. Tony never noticed her slip out and lock him inside. Hastily she headed to the next dressing room and quietly informed her mother of what was happening.
"Lydia, let's go to my office for a few moments," Olivia announced forcefully. "Stephanie can begin Bobbi Jo's lessons in how to handle herself in skirts."
Stephanie understood and immediately stepped to the softly sobbing boy/girl. Tenderly she slipped a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Bobbi Jo, please step over here so I can show you how to properly handle yourself in skirts."
Bobbi Jo timidly raised his face to peer questioningly at his mother. "Be a good girl and go with Stephanie," Lydia told her new daughter. She had detected the quiet urgency in Olivia's voice and knew something was going on with Tony. "Stephanie will begin your lessons in how to be a proper girl."
As Bobbi Jo allowed himself to be led away, Olivia and Lydia hurried to the office where they could see Tony on the monitor. They watched in disbelief as he frantically abused himself.
Oblivious to every thing else, Tony continued to attempt to bring his manhood to obedience. It was only when he'd manipulated himself raw with blood oozing from several abrasions that he sank to his knees and released the traitorous flesh. Anger and hatred suffused his very being as he put his head on the floor and futilely pounded his fists on the floor. An unnerving almost inhuman roar of frustration erupted from his mouth.
With wild red eyes, spittle dribbling from the corners of his mouth, panting for air, and blood slowly flowing down his sore red manhood to drip onto the floor, Tony staggered once more to his feet. Insanity was not very far away. At that moment, he detested his once prized manhood. Collecting what little remained of his intellect he glowered at the camera.
"You were right," he grunted. "The damn thing has always gotten me in trouble. Now it won't let me jerk off. Take me to this Dr. Trate! Let her cut the fucking thing off! Let her rip off my balls! Have her give me a complete sex change! I'll fuck the first man you want me to screw. All I ask is that you do it now, tonight, while my hatred for the damned thing is still hot. Do it now, damn it! Do it now!" With that, Tony collapsed on the floor, curled into a fetal position, and cried.
Olivia pulled the tape and replaced it with another to keep Tony under surveillance. Then she plugged the removed tape into another VCR and replayed the events that led up to Tony's self-abuse.
"I'm sure Dr. Trate would be delighted to treat Tony on an emergency basis," Olivia informed Lydia. "It's your call. But think of this. If you don’t carry through on all the requirements, especially when he promised to meet them, you’ll lose control. You don't necessarily have to have him make love with another man, but I think you must force him to have the sex-change and hold the threat of forcing him to make it with another man over HER head."
"I really don't want him to lose his manhood," Lydia sighed. "But I know you're right. I guess if I really get desperate for a man, I can always go out and find another. Call Dr. Trate. My sister-in-law Tonia will be moving in permanently a lot sooner than I expected."
When Olivia called, she discovered Dr. Trate was in surgery doing a sex-change on another man who had just been brought in by his wife. When the good doctor discovered what Olivia's message was about, she immediately agreed to help Lydia with her problem.
Twenty minutes later an ambulance pulled up behind FairyTale Fashions. The uniformed attendants injected a sedative into Tony who was still curled into a fetal position on the floor. Moments later they bundled him off to the hospital where Dr. Trate eagerly awaited her newest patient. She had faxed a permission to treat form to Lydia. Olivia sent a signed copy back to the hospital. By midnight, Tony Waters would have ceased to exist. Tonia Waters would be resting peacefully in her room by early Friday morning.
While all this was occurring, Bobbi Jo was being trained to assume his new role as a prissy ten year old girl. Stephanie was firm yet gentle as she coaxed and guided the shattered remains of the once robust boy into mimicking a prissy girl.
It was difficult for Bobbi to accept all that had happened to him this day. As he stood before the mirror learning how to execute a perfect dainty curtsey he wondered what his erstwhile buddies were doing. They had expected him to show up at the school football field with his new football. By now they were probably cursing him and complaining that he was not dependable. A shiver swept through him as he imagined how they would react if they saw him dressed and looking like a prissy ten year old girl. There was no way he wanted to endure that harassment. Maybe, considering his current state and future, switching schools was a good idea. In a way he was relieved he'd not have to face his buddies.
The emasculated lad practiced walking with a sedate girlish gait as he repeatedly circled the room under Stephanie's watchful eye. The shorter stride wasn't nearly as awkward as the change required in his foot fall. Instead of the lanky heel first then toe sequence typical of boys, he had to learn to simultaneously plant heel and toe in the manner of a prissy girl. Once mastered, this mincing step imparted a natural girlish sway to his hips. The lessons were not difficult and much to his dismay he found that he learned the girlish movements easily. Much too easily to quell the unbridled fear of his boyish anguish. As he caught site of his reflection in the mirrors he saw what appeared to be a cute prissy ten year old girl. Even in her walk there was no sign that she had been a normal all-American boy just a few hours ago. The harassed lad had no doubts that his life as a boy was over. No longer would he join the guys on the football field. No longer would he even wear pants. By Wednesday he'd be attending parochial school as a girl. How much more would his life change?
Once he had mastered curtseying and walking like a girl, Stephanie began to teach Bobbi how to sit while wearing a skirt. Once more Bobbi quickly adapted to keeping his knees primly together and bending at the knees to demurely lower his skirted backside to the seat. It took even less time for him to learn how to smooth his skirt across his backside as he sat. Stephanie only had to remind him once of the necessity for a proper young miss to prudently keep her knees together while sitting. The feminized lad also learned that a modest young maiden dainty crosses her legs at the ankle and not at the knees as had been his previous habit. In both cases he learned quickly since he didn't want to show off his pretty panties As the lessons continued Bobbi found himself becoming acclimated to his new mode of dress. Granted, it was quite different but at the same time it felt a lot nicer. It required greater concentration and restricted what he could and could not do. Yet the clothing felt lighter, airier, and much less physically restrictive. It was undeniably comfortable. As the lessons took root in his formerly tempestuous mind, Bobbi felt less and less like an arrogant boy named Robert and more and more like Bobbi Jo, the cute girl he saw in the mirror.
When Olivia and Lydia joined Stephanie and Bobbi Jo, the girlish boy promptly rose and executed a perfect curtsey. Lydia was delighted and lovingly hugged her new daughter. They took Bobbi Jo to Olivia's office where they allowed him to see the video tape of his father's chastisement. Tears were freely rolling down Bobbi's cheeks when he heard his once proud father meekly make all the promises Stephanie demanded. Bobbi knew his feminine fate was sealed when he saw his father begging to have his sex changed. A shiver of inescapability swept over him.
"Your father is being prepped for the sex-change surgery right now," Lydia told the nearly destroyed boy. By morning he'll be a complete woman, your Aunt Tonia, your father's younger sister."
Bobbi Jo stopped resisting his mother's efforts to transform him into a ten year old girl. If his father had succumbed to the ordeal, what hope did he have of salvaging what little remained of his once treasured and much vaunted boyhood? How macho could he have been if he was so easily transformed from a boy into a girl? The same applied to his father. How much of a man could his father have been if he had begged to become a woman? What really tore at his lingering machismo was that he'd always tried to emulate his father. How many times had he heard people say he was a chip off the old block? That was proving all too true as he felt his boyhood disappearing into an enticing an delightful whirl of skirts. Still wearing his pretty dress, the sissified lad didn't offer the slightest resistance as his mother led him back to their car for the trip home. Several minutes later, clad in a new pretty pink baby doll nightie, Bobbi Jo cried himself to sleep.
While the Henry family was being turned upside down, Grace headed home with her darling sissies. Allie and Jamie sat silently in the back seat holding hands as ordered. While the idea of the brothers holding hands was still abhorrent, they found it to be a welcome commiseration in their mutual subjugation. They knew they were going to be kept as sissies indefinitely. Although the outcome of their humiliating encounter with Robert outside the toy store had gone a long way in relieving their anguish, they still felt horrible about the hurtful truth of Robert's taunts. It was only their mother's firm handling of Robert that had allowed them any respite from the ordeal. Tomorrow at school they had to appear before their buddies, classmates, and teachers as the sissies they had become. This made them feel sick as they dreaded what would happen. They knew Robert's horrible teasing and jeers would seem like a pleasant picnic compared to what they could expect from a whole day at school. They definitely did not look forward to going to school.
It was supper time when Grace arrived home. The house was dark, meaning Richard was not home. For a brief moment Grace feared her husband had run off, but then she realized he didn't have the balls to do so. In a few days, he literally wouldn't have balls. That cruel thought gave Grace great pleasure.
Allie and Jamie meekly followed their mother inside and took seats at the kitchen table. Following their mother's orders, each lad cuddled his dolly and listened as their mother explained how to prepare a meal. Meekly the brothers paid close attention knowing they had no choice.
"You will learn how to cook, how to wash dishes, and how to properly set a table," Grace informed the beleaguered lads. "You will learn how to keep a home clean and sparkling. You will learn how to do the laundry, iron, and put away the cleaned clothes. Tonight you'll watch and listen while you cuddle your dollies. The next time YOU will prepare and serve the meal while I watch."
Richard arrived home after a frustrating day of job hunting. No one would even accept his application or resume. Grace was training the boys as he forlornly entered the kitchen. Needless to say he was quite shocked to see his sons sitting primly at the table hugging dolls while their mother taught them how to cook.
"What the hell are you doing to the boys," Richard exploded at Grace. "It's bad enough you're ruining my life, now you're trying to ruin their lives! What are you trying to do, turn them into a couple of faggoty sissies?"
"As for you, I thought you were real boys, not a couple of pansy sissies," Richard complained as he turned to the boys. All his anger and frustration boiled out as he lashed out at the cowering brothers. "I'm ashamed to call you my sons. What a couple of pussies you've turned ut to be. Why I ought to..."
Outside, a small cyclone appeared by the window nearest to where Richard stood. It quietly rattled the window and disappeared as fast as it had arrived. Richard had teased his changeling sons and had thus fallen under the power of Heather's last wish.
"That's quite enough," Grace vehemently cut in. "You have a lot of damn gall to speak to Allie and Jamie like that after what you've done!"
Tears filled Allie's and Jamie's eyes as they wilted before their father's accusations and their mother's angry rebuttal.
"I'm not trying to turn them into faggoty sissies, but yes, I am trying to turn them into sissies," Grace replied with a bone chilling calm. "I suggest you watch this video before you get yourself into anymore trouble than you've already created."
Richard swallowed nervously and accepted the tape. One glance at the cowed meek heads of his sons and the smug assurance of his wife and he knew the tape would not be pleasant. Suddenly he realized that Grace still had him firmly by the balls. Meekly he took the tape and headed off to watch it.
Richard numbly watched his sons humiliate themselves before the assembled customers and clerks at FairyTale Fashions. Even though they had acted as if the entire thing was their idea, their enthusiasm while shopping for their nighties was just too realistic. The horrified man realized Grace had crushed the boyish ego of their sons. They had performed as depicted in a desperate effort to appease her, yet it seemed as if they were succumbing to her efforts to sissify the trapped lads. With this video tape, they would be completely under her power.
Jamie entered the room and curtseyed to his father. "Daddy, dinner is ready," he announced politely before turning and fleeing the room.
In absolute shock, Richard went into the dining room and took his accustomed seat. Grace was already seated smiling like the cat who ate the canary. Allie and Jamie entered carrying the meal which they dutifully placed upon the table before curtseying to their mother and taking their seats. The melancholy mood of the males was quite evident as the family ate.
"Allie and Jamie look so cute in their Lord Fauntleroy outfits, Grace informed Richard as the boys lowered their heads in shame. "As you saw on the video, our darling children are going to be undergoing quite a change in their lives. I expect your full cooperation in this, Richard, Is that clear?"
"Yes, it's clear," Richard replied as he watched the boys slump hopelessly in their chairs. "Look, I've kept quiet about what you're doing to me, but it's not fair to the boys. I really think..."
"You really think nothing," Grace coldly cut him off. "Your ass is mine. I own you now that you've signed power of attorney over to me. Don't you ever forget that."
Now it was Richard's turn to hang his head in shame and slump in his chair. Grace smiled with satisfaction.
"Children, I hope you understand what I just reminded your father," Grace turned to the cowering duo "Your father signed over full power of attorney to me. That means he can not sign any legal documents or enter into any legal agreements. Basically, it reduces him to the status of a child with me as his guardian, just as I am your legal guardian. That also means I am the only legal guardian for all three of you."
The boys grew even more depressed as Richard wilted. Grace smiled victoriously.
"Perhaps I should send you to school on Monday in your new sissy outfits," Grace intoned rubbing salt into the open wounds of their boyhood.
"Mommy please," Allie cried desperately. "It's going to be hell tomorrow at school just telling everyone our new names. If the guys ever suspect we dress up in sissy outfits... oh mommy, please, don't make us do that!"
As Allie pleaded, Jamie broke down in tears of fear and horror. Allie joined in as he finished his plea. Richard was also near tears.
"Grace, do what you want to me," Richard pleaded. "But have a heart for the boys. Please, don't make them wear their Lord Fauntleroy outfits to school."
"That's an interesting offer," Grace replied. "But you need to understand that Allie and Jamie are no longer boys. They are my sissies. Is that clear?"
Richard was helpless to disagree, but assumed that Grace was about to offer a deal. "I don't like it but I have no choice but to agree with you."
"Excellent," Grace declared. "Children, we're about to see how good your father is at keeping his offer to do whatever I want with him if I don't send you to school in your sissy outfits. Allie, Jamie, do you want your father to make good on his offer to do whatever I want in order not to be sent to school in you sissy outfits?"
"Yes, mommy," Allie and Jamie tearfully replied.
"Very good, children," Grace replied with smug satisfaction. "Richard, you've heard the children, and I will not make them wear the Lord Fauntleroy outfits to school if you make good on your offer to do whatever I want. Does your offer still stand?"
"Yes," Richard replied knowing he had just played right into Grace's plan. But then she'd once more trapped him, this time with what little trust remained between he and his sons. "I'll do whatever you want me to do if you don't send Allie and Jamie to school in their Lord Fauntleroy outfits. I'll take whatever you have to dish out like a man."
Allie and Jamie looked up at their father with a smidgen of hope and respect. He was sacrificing himself for them.
"Very good, darling," Grace replied with smug satisfaction. "Children, I'm taking your father for a short ride. I expect you to have the dishes washed, put away and to be working on your homework at the table by the time I return. Richard, get your coat and come with me."
"Where are we going," Richard asked as he followed Grace's example in getting up from the table.
"You'll find out soon enough," Grace chuckled as she headed for the closet to get her coat. "Just remember, you agreed to do whatever I want. I intend to surprise you. Now you be a good boy and bring the car around to the front door while I make a phone call."
Richard nervously did as he was ordered wondering what kind of hellish surprise awaited him. If he would have had the slightest idea, he'd have jumped in the car and sped away as fast and far as possible.
Grace made one phone call. Dr. Cassandra Trate smiled with deep satisfaction as she hurried to the hospital to meet Grace and Richard.
Richard followed Grace's directions as he drove. She adamantly refused to say anything about their destination, much to his growing consternation and uneasiness. Finally she ordered him to pull to the curve and stop the car. Before he could ask why they had stopped in front of the hospital Grace brusquely ordered him to exit the car so she could drive and he could sit on the passenger side. Richard was totally confused when they pulled into the loop at the emergency entrance to the local hospital.
"What are we doing here," Richard asked obviously befuddled.
Before Grace had time to answer, the passenger door opened. Richard turned to see a woman in a white lab coat lean towards him. Before he could react he felt a jab in his arm. Looking down in obvious distress and fear, he watched as the woman withdrew the needle. Almost immediately Richard felt a hot flash engulf his body. He could feel his heart pounding as beads of perspiration formed on his forehead. As he tried to speak, he discovered he couldn't catch his breath. Fear gripped him as he felt as if he was being suffocated. Whatever it was the woman injected into him, he realized he couldn't speak or otherwise communicate.
"Orderlies," the woman ordered. "Take this man directly into the surgical prep room. I need to operate immediately."
Richard wanted to scream and resist as two burly orderlies gently pulled his limp sweated body out of the car and placed him on a gurney. As his head lolled to the side, he saw Grace smiling and talking to the maniacally grinning white robed woman who was rubbing her hands together in ominous anticipation of what she was about to do. Still unable to control his body or to speak, all Richard could do was watch as the flourescent light fixtures in the halls whizzed by as the burly orderlies wheeled him deeper and deeper into the hospital.
Time lost meaning for Richard as the gurney came to a halt in a sterile white room. Several nurses took over from the orderlies. The nurses wasted no time in removing his clothes. They merely used scissors to cut everything away. Richard helplessly endured their poking and prodding as they shaved his entire body and face and took blood samples. Finally Richard saw Grace and the white robed woman loom into view.
"Richard, darling, I know you can hear and understand me," Grace spoke pleasantly. "I'm so glad you agreed to do whatever I wanted you to do to spare Allie and Jamie the experience of wearing their Lord Fauntleroy outfits to school. You see, darling, I'm sick and tired of your chauvinistic attitudes and desires. I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Cassandra Trate. She's going to do a few things to you to make you a better person."
"Hello, Richard," Dr. Trate leered down at him. "I'm so delighted to meet you. You must know that you have contaminated Allie and Jamie with the same dread condition from which you suffer and which I am about to treat. I call that condition testosterone syndrome, or TS for short. You, Richard, are a TS patient. Now in some medical circles, TS stands for transsexual. That is a person who is changing their gender from one sex to the other. It just so happens that the perfect treatment for Testosterone Syndrome is identical to the treatment for a Transsexual."
Despite his drugged state, Richard fully understood what Dr. Trate was saying. Exerting every bit of willpower and strength, he tried to escape. All that occurred was a few weak grunts as a wide eyed look of terror appeared on his face.
"I see you understand, Richard," Dr. Trate intoned. "In a few seconds you'll go to sleep. When you awake, you'll be cured of your testosterone syndrome. You'll be a woman in almost every way. Really, the only differences will be that you'll be spared the discomfort of a menstrual cycle and won't have to worry about becoming pregnant. So, my darling changeling, go to sleep. We'll keep you sedated for a month while everything heals. When you awaken, you'll be sweet Rikki." With that she jabbed another needle into his arm.
As things started turning black, Grace leaned close. "Oh, by the way, Dr. Trate is going to prepare you for the job Hillary Balkut is going to give you. You'll be the ditzy sexy receptionist for Balkut Engineering. She's going to make sure you have sexy legs to show off beneath cute miniskirts and nice firm boobies for the men to leer at as you do your job. Oh yes, I almost forgot. As Dr. Trate told you, you contaminated Allie and Jamie with Testosterone Syndrome. Dr. Trate will be treating them soon to, just like she is about to treat you. Pleasant dreams, sweety."
Anger suffused Richard. He wanted to scream. He wanted to climb off the bed and kill Grace and Dr. Trate. The two women had to be crazy! But all that happened was darkness and oblivion.
Dr. Trate had him wheeled into surgery as Grace returned home to Allie and Jamie.
Just after Dr. Trate completed the castration and penilectomy, a nurse came in with a message from Olivia Childress concerning a Lydia Henry and her husband Tony. Dr. Trate promptly dispatched the two orderlies in an ambulance to FairyTale Fashions, then turned to the reconstructive surgery.
While their parents were gone, Allie and Jamie washed the dishes and put everything away. Then they dutifully pulled out their books and sat at the table to study, another chore they were not accustomed to doing. The brothers worked silently as they thought about their dim future prospects. Neither lad was able to concentrate on their homework.
Grace made sure to arrive home silently. Quietly she entered the kitchen to check on the work done by Allie and Jamie. Then she walked into the dining room to find the boys staring unhappily at their books. "I'm glad to see you did a decent job in the kitchen," she announced startling them out of their dejected thoughts. "It's far from perfect, but acceptable for a first time. You'll improve with practice."
"Mommy, where's daddy," Jamie asked when he didn't see his father.
"He's doing what I want him to do," Grace informed the boys. "But then again, it's really the last thing he'll ever do."
"What do you mean," Allie asked with concern. "He's not going to get killed doing what you want him to do is he? If that's the case, you can send us to school in those sissy outfits. Just don't let daddy die."
"Your concern is admirable," Grace replied with a touch of pride seeing that the boys were already becoming less self-centered. "As of this moment, your father does not exist, but he has not died."
"You discovered that Stephanie was once a boy. In the same manner that Stephanie is no longer a boy, the person who was your father is no longer a man," Grace told the wide-eyed boys. "By now Dr. Trate has castrated him and completed a penilectomy. In a few hours, the person who was your father will become your aunt Rikki."
"You mean daddy's having his sex changed," Jamie whispered in fear.
"That's correct, darling," Grace implied. "Just as I offered you the chance at FairyTale Fashions to become girls. Changing him into a woman was what I wanted in order to keep from sending you to school in your sissy outfits."
The boys wilted as they thought of their father becoming a woman. Neither could picture that occurring.
"Dr. Trate has performed similar surgery dozens of times," Grace explained as they listened in horror. She did Stephanie and you saw how pretty she is. Your aunt Rikki will be a beautiful woman with shapely legs and nice firm breasts. She'll look to be about nineteen with an adorable face and long blonde hair. She'll work as a receptionist at Balkut Engineering."
The brothers exchanged looks of disbelief and horror. If they'd heard their mother's explanation just five hours before, they'd have scoffed at the very idea that a male could be transformed into a female. Now they were not sure. In fact, they were afraid it was all too true. Considering that their mother had offered them the chance to become girls, they really didn't doubt her bizarre tale, although they very much wanted to do so.
"It's still not too late to accept my offer for you to become my daughters," Grace smiled at the cowering boys. "In fact, I have every intention of seeing to it that you do become my adorable daughters. If you don't voluntarily do it, at some point you'll mess up so I can punish you by having you transformed. Now that your father is out of the way, I'll have no interference with my plans."
Allie and Jamie wished they could die as they contemplated their bleak future. That their mother would eventually succeed in transforming them into girls seemed to be a foregone conclusion. It was simply a matter of when.
"You might be interested to know that Heather and Leslie were boys," Grace told her squirming sons. "Dr. Trate transformed them into girls. Leslie was raised as a girl from birth so she doesn't know life as a boy. Heather, however, was a boy until a week and a half ago. In fact, you even went to the same school. Did you know a boy named Heath Reilly?"
The brother's blanched. While they had never been introduced or even had any interactions with the boy, they had been in the same gym class with Heath Reilly. But he was a freckle faced red-haired boy...just like Heather... and he had mysteriously dropped out of school a week and a half ago... over the Halloween weekend. Heather was definitely cuter, but they could see similarities. Both boys wanted to die.
Grace could tell the boys now recognized Heather as their former classmate. "Heather underwent the same surgery your father is having now over the Halloween weekend. You teased her about the wind flipping her skirt the day she was discharged from the hospital. She was withdrawn from school and enrolled in St. Patrick's Parochial School. The surgery isn't as involved for a boy who has not fully gone through male puberty as it is for a man. Like Heather, you two could come home in a day or two while your father's more extensive surgery will require a month in the hospital."
The boys wanted to run away or bury their heads in the sand like an ostrich. But they knew they were helplessly trapped. They knew they were doomed to become girls. they did not want to face such a horrid fate, but what could they do? They had already sacrificed their manhood and admitted they were sissies.
"Tomorrow you must do as you promised and tell everyone your new names," Grace reminded the boys. "You will be teased unmercifully by former buddies for being the sissies you have become. Do you really want to do that? Do you really want to go back to school as a couple of simpering sissies?"
Allie picked up on the hint. "No, I don't want to go to school as a simpering sissy," he whispered fearfully as he realized there was another option. "But the only way you'll let us avoid doing so is if we to ask you to transform us into girls."
"Very good, Allie," Grace smiled. "Jamie, do you understand what Allie just said?"
Jamie shivered and looked at his brother. "Are you saying we should ask mommy to turn us into girls," he asked Allie in disbelief.
"What other choice do we have," Allie answered dejectedly. "You know mommy's going to turn us into girls. We'll end up like Stephanie, Leslie, and Heather. Look what she's done to daddy. She's having him turned into a woman. Look at us, we've already lost our boyhood. You know we'll never get it back. We've been reduced to a couple of simpering sissies. We were always disgusted with sissies, now that's what we are. Why should we struggle with being harassed as a couple of simpering sissies only to lose even that tiny bit of boyhood when we make a mistake and mommy decides to have us changed to girls? It only makes sense to do it now and avoid all the hassles and anguish."
Jamie nodded his head slowly. "I guess you're right," he conceded. "But if we ask to be turned into girls, will we have to have to go back to school? We'll really be teased if we go back to school as girls."
"It doesn't make any difference when you become girls, you'll still have to go back to school," Grace replied. "The difference will be that you'll return to school at St. Patrick's Parochial School just as Heather did. I certainly will never expose my darling daughters to the possibility of teasing and harassment. Also just like Heather, only a few trustworthy people would ever know that you had once been boys. Once you make the change, only those who treated you or those you tell will know the truth."
Allie and Jamie exchanged looks of hopelessness and dejection. "So you’re saying that if we don't want to go back to school as sissies we have to become girls and go to St. Patrick's," Allie questioned.
"That's correct," Grace replied. "I'll keep you out of school tomorrow and take you back to FairyTale Fashions to be fitted for a totally girlish wardrobe. You'll see Dr. Trate in the afternoon for the preliminary medicals. Then you'll attend the Victorian Tea on Saturday as girls. I'm sure Heather, Leslie, and Sherry will be delighted to accept you as girlfriends. After all, Jamie will be in their class at St. Patrick's while Allie will only be one year ahead, that is unless you'd like to be in their class too. I'm sure that could be arranged. Sunday you'll enter the hospital for the surgery necessary to transform you into girls. By Tuesday you can come home and you can begin school as girls by Wednesday. Right now, the decision is yours."
"Some decision," Allie complained. "Whether to be a sissy or a girl."
"Just remember you'll be pretty girls," Grace reminded them. "Everyone teases sissies. No one teases pretty girls."
"Yeah, but guys always want to get into a pretty girl's panties," Jamie shuddered in response.
"Yes, that's true," Grace replied. "But stop for a moment and think of how often you wanted to get into a pretty girl's panties versus how often you even got to first base. A smart pretty girl learns how to handle guys who want to get into their panties. A smart pretty girl can wrap a horny guy right around her pinky and get him to do whatever she wants him to do. Think about how often that happened to you or some guy you knew."
Allie and Jamie just nodded their agreement to their mother's summary of a pretty girl. Yet while they dreaded being a sissy, they were still too attached to their boyhood to yield.
"One other thing you should consider," Grace informed them. "Once you're a girl, you won't have the testosterone flooding your body. It's the testosterone which makes guys stupid. It's the testosterone which makes guys horny. Think back to Heath Reilly. even though you didn't really know him, did you ever think he was a sissy or a faggot?"
"No," Allie answered. "In fact, he was always getting into trouble and gave the gym teacher a hard time. He knew how to push his buttons without going too far and getting in trouble. He seemed like an all right guy."
"I know for a fact he liked girls," Jamie replied. "He was part of a bunch of guys that tried to sneak into the girls' locker room."
"That proves my point about testosterone," Grace replied. "Just two weeks ago, Heath was a typical horny teenage boy who liked girls and probably hated sissies and faggots, right?"
"Yes," Allie and Jamie replied together.
"Yet just a few hours ago Heather Reilly was flaunting her girlishness and actually teasing and flirting with you, wasn't she," Grace asked.
"Yes," both boys sheepishly replied as they recalled the incident in the hall outside the dressing rooms at FairyTale Fashions.
"So Heath, by your own observations a typical testosterone driven boy, was changed into Heather. Again by your observations she is a typical giggly pretty girl," Grace summarized. "That startling change took place in less than two weeks. The reason such a rapid transformation can occur is the removal of testosterone and it's replacement by female hormones. It's your male hormones that make you stubbornly cling to your boyhood. Female hormones will help you discard your boyhood and embrace girlhood. Testosterone makes you think and feel like a boy. Once it's gone and replaced by female hormones, you'll begin to think and feel like a girl. That's exactly what happened to Heather. That's how she's made the transition to girlhood so easily."
The brothers hung their heads in the agony of indecision and terror. That morning the mere idea of giving up their boyhood would have been unthinkable. Now it seemed to be the only logical alternative. Yet the shattered remnants of their chauvinistic past refused to let them admit defeat.
Grace sensed their hesitation and knew enough about male thinking to know the boys simply could not ask to become girls. She knew they didn't want to go to school and face their former buddies as sissies, yet the alternative was too drastic to voice. They were, trapped in a hellish never never land by their machismo.
"I understand your dilemma," Grace informed the indecisive lads. "You don't want to face your buddies as the sissies you've become but you can't tell me you want to become girls. Your stubborn testosterone won't let you voice what you know is your only alternative. So, to save you that anguish and the feelings of guilt, I'll make the decision for you."
Allie and Jamie lowered their heads in shame and confusion. They guiltily exchanged looks of chagrin and hopelessness. Neither lad objected to their mother making the impossible decision for them.
"Very well," Grace announced after an uneasy silence from her erstwhile sons. "Tomorrow, I will keep you home and notify the school that I'm transferring you to St. Patrick's parochial School. We'll go to FairyTale Fashions for your new wardrobe and see Dr. Trate to get you started on the road to girlhood. Through Dr. Trate, St. Patrick's Parochial School will be contacted and your transition will be explained so that by Wednesday you'll both be able to begin attending the ninth grade as sisters with Heather, Leslie, and Patti as classmates."
Tears of frustration mixed with tears of relief as the boys remained silent. The decision was made. They could not object.
"Remove all the papers from your text books and pile them together so they can be returned to the school," Grace ordered. "Then take your pretty new undies and nighties to your bedrooms. While you do that I'll get a few garbage bags and finish cleaning all the male clothes out your dressers and closets. You won't ever be needing those clothes again. Keep what you're wearing now. You'll wear it tomorrow to go to FairyTale Fashions. It will be the last time you'll ever wear boy's clothes."
Like prisoners heading for the gallows, Allie and Jamie complied with their mother's orders. Neither lad looked at his brother. Their shame was too great. An hour later, both were in their bedrooms snuggling under their covers clad in their soft, pretty new baby doll nighties.
Grace entered each room to tuck the forlorn lad in. "If you feel up to it, I suggest you masturbate," she separately advised each shocked son. "I doubt very much whether you'll ever have the chance to experience an erection after seeing Dr. Trate."
Allie and Jamie cried themselves to sleep. Their mother's advise to masturbate proved useless since both boys were so upset by their future that neither lad could get an erection.
"Tony sat with me in Olivia's office as Robert spouted off," Lydia stated. "He didn't try to deny anything and even confessed to his weakness. Olivia has a close relationship with Dr. Trate whom I mentioned earlier. I'm sure you've heard of her good reputation as a plastic surgeon, endocrinologist, and Hypnotherapist. Well, Dr. Trate has an interesting side line that matches her name quite well and fit in perfectly with disciplining both Tony and Robert. Now what do think Dr. Cassandra Trate's side line might be? Just think of what a good disciplinary procedure Dr. Cass Trate could employ."
The women gasped as they realized what Lydia was getting at. "Oh my," Linda gasped. "Cass Trate... Castrate. You don't mean..."
Bobbi Jo shivered uneasily as he ate breakfast while sitting at the table clad in his pretty dress. Tears filled his eyes as he listened to his mother call his school and inform them he was being withdrawn and that his records should be transferred to St. Patrick's Parochial School.
As Olivia Childress unlocked the doors of FairyTale Fashions, she smiled to see two cars pull into the parking lot. She smiled with anticipation.
Allie and Jamie had hoped to have the store to themselves as they underwent their initial transformation into girls. Their anxiety grew when they saw another car enter the lot from the second entrance. At first they debated trying to dawdle and let the people from the other car enter FairyTale Fashions first but Grace would brook no delay. As they exited their car Allie and Jamie didn't recognize the sad pretty girl nervously emerging from the other car. It was only when they saw the woman getting out, whom they recognized as Lydia Waters from the teasing incident last night outside the toy store, that they realized the pretty girl had to be their antagonist, Robert! They shivered as they remembered their mother sending Mrs. Waters and Robert to FairyTale Fashions and the subsequent phone call to alert Olivia Childress of their imminent arrival. Obviously Robert had already been subjugated into girlhood. The brothers shivered upon noting there was no trace of the brash boy they had encountered in the shy prissy girl they now beheld.
Bobbi shivered with fear as he noted the other car pulling into the parking lot of FairyTale Fashions as his mother’s car arrived. The agony he was about to endure while he shopped for his new girlish wardrobe was bad enough by itself, he had hoped to be alone without other customers to watch when he had to do it. Any hope of allowing the other customers to go into the store first so he could at least have some privacy as he emerged from the car wearing his prissy dress were dashed when Lydia shushed him from the car when he hesitated. Fear left him unable to keep his eyes lowered, he just had to peak at the occupants of the other car to see if they would recognize him as a petticoated boy. Bobbi wished the earth would open and swallow him as he noted the boys exiting the other car were none other than the sissy boys he'd teased the night before.
Grace and Lydia led their recalcitrant children towards the entrance where they met and hugged each other. Grace couldn't get done lavishing praise upon poor Bobbi Jo as his mother made him curtsey.
Allie and Jamie couldn't believe the prissy girl they beheld was really the same arrogant boy who had harassed them last night. They shivered knowing that they too would soon be just as girlish. A thoroughly chagrined Bobbi Jo wondered if the sissy brothers were going to be petticoated. In a way he felt sorry for them if that was the case, yet in another way he hoped that was to be their fate as an act of retribution for his own downfall.
Olivia opened the door and ushered the five customers inside, giving each a welcoming hug. Stephanie also hugged everyone before leading Allie and Jamie to a dressing room where they were quickly divested of their remaining male clothes. Tears of fear and loss trickled down their cheeks as they realized they'd never wear boy's clothes again.
The brothers shivered as they stood clad in their silky lace trimmed pink nylon panties, matching camisoles, pink tights. and pink lace topped anklets. Stephanie had them remove their dainty camisoles and assisted them in donning a training bra that matched their prissy undies. The brothers blushed a rosy red as she slipped breast shaped foam pads into the empty cups to give them shape and definition consistent with that of a normal barely teenage girl. The brothers had little time to brood about this unwanted step towards girlishness as they slipped their pretty camisoles back on. Next they slid pink nylon slips edged in delicate lace over their heads and down their torsos. The lace tickled their nylon clad thighs causing goosebumps and sending all too delightful sensations coursing through their bodies. The totally chagrined soon to be former brothers sat on the bench to slip the black patent leather Mary Jane shoes onto their now quite dainty feet. Stephanie showed them how to adjust the straps on their slips after they had buckled the shoes firmly to their feet. Tears of humiliation and loss filled their eyes as they looked at their now all so girlish legs and feet. It was hard for them to reconcile their present dainty girlish legs and feet with those spindly boyish legs and feet that had carried them around the bases and across the football field.
Allie and Jamie were nearly overwhelmed with conflicting emotions of hatred, fear, anguish, and delight by the time they slipped the cotton pink and white gingham high waisted country girl style dresses over their heads. Stephanie assisted by slipping their arms through the full cut long sleeves before adjusting their slip and dress until they hung properly. Stephanie then adjusted the lace edged round neck opening until it was properly situated. Allie and Jamie watched in disbelief as Stephanie adjusted the elastic lace edged cuffs so they fit properly at their wrists. Their hands no longer looked like the familiar boyish appendages they were used to seeing. Now they seemed to miraculously possess girlish arms and hands. In guiltily glancing at each other they noted that about an inch of the scalloped lace edged hem of the slip was visible beneath the full loose skirt which ended two inches above their new sister's knees. They also shivered as they noted the all too familiar feminine twin bumps on the chest of their new sister.
First on Allie, and then on Jamie, Stephanie began to brush and style shoulder length black hair of the bewildered brothers. Stephanie brushed a section of hair foreword over their face then quickly trimmed bangs even with their eyebrows. The remaining hair was pulled back and gathered together into a high bouncy ponytail at the top rear of their heads so that it dangled down to the middle of their necks. The ponytails were secured in place by strips of pink and white gingham cloth tied into cute bows. Stephanie then filed their fingernails and applied a bright glossy pink polish. Then she applied a matching gloss to their lips.
Now fully dressed as prissy girls, the erstwhile brothers examined their transformed reflections in the multitude of mirrors. What they saw frightened them. No longer did they appear to be the ragamuffin brothers they were accustomed to seeing. Now they saw two nearly identical girls who could easily pass for pretty twin teenage sisters. There was not even the slightest trace to hint that the cute sisters had ever been anything except prissy girls. For the first time the brothers realized that they were indeed irrevocably losing their boyhood. They now understood how Heath Reilly had been so easily transformed into the cute girl they knew as Heather. The same thing was happening to them.
Allie and Jamie certainly didn't feel like boys as they looked at their all too girlish reflections. They could feel their panties sensuously caressing their tucked away insignificant manhood. They felt the unfamiliar constriction of the training bras on their formerly flat chests and shuddered to think that soon their flesh would be filling those now artificially enhanced cups. The lace on the hem of their slips enticingly tickled their nylon clad thighs at their slightest movement. The way their skirts saucily swirled about them as they moved crushed what remained of their boyish machismo. It was impossible for them to feel even slightly masculine while dressed as the pretty girls they now beheld in the mirror. Allie and Jamie realized that even before having their male equipment removed, they had been utterly emasculated. Any lingering resistance to their feminization collapsed.
Bobbi Jo meekly accompanied his mother as she selected his new prissy wardrobe. Everything Lydia selected was designed for a sprightly ten year old girl. As he tried on his new clothes, he understood that he would indeed be reliving the past two years of his life, only this time he'd be a prissy girl instead of a crude brash boy.
Allie and Jamie emerged from the dressing room to meet Bobbi Jo. The three former boys exchanged looks of shame and fear mixed with a tiny bit of anticipation. Olivia, Grace, and Lydia gushed about how darling Allie and Jamie appeared and how Bobbi Jo could be their younger sister. Allie and Jamie were glad to at least be teenagers instead of reduced to a tween like Bobbi Jo.
Olivia informed everyone that she had spoken to Dr. Trate. Ms Rikki Henry and Ms Tonia Waters had emerged from their successful sex-change surgery and were resting peacefully. The boys shivered as they exchanged sheepish guilty looks knowing that their once proud macho fathers had been forever transformed into their pretty feminine aunts. Olivia told them that Dr. Trate had gone home to take a nap since the final surgery hadn't been completed until the early morning hours. Appointments had been made for them at three to see Dr. Trate in her office and then accompany her to the hospital where they could see the sedated Rikki and Tonia. At four thirty that afternoon all three soon to be new girls and their mothers would meet Mother Superior Murphy to enroll the new girls in St. Patrick's Parochial School.
While Grace began to take her timid daughters on a shopping spree, Lydia paid for Bobbi Jo's new wardrobe and left FairyTale Fashions after agreeing to meet Grace, Jamie, and Allie for a one o'clock lunch at Guido's. Lydia and Bobbi Jo then headed to the office of Water's Systems to inform the staff of the changes that had taken place and to let Lida Fritz know that her coerced sexual servitude was ended.
Linda Fritz arrived at the office of Water's Systems an hour before opening to get everything ready for the day and to be there when the other two women arrived. The mysterious phone call she'd received from Lydia late last night had her worried. All she knew was that Tony would not be coming in and that Lydia would stop by to explain what was going on. When Jane Mitchell and Barbara Haines arrived, Linda informed them of Lydia's mysterious message. All three women, who were dependant upon their job with Water's Systems, were worried about their future.
The three women anxiously looked up as Lydia entered the office with a pretty timid young girl in tow. They watched as she picked up the clock-like sign that noted the shop was closed and set the hands to show the shop would reopen at 12:30. They noted it was 11:30.
"I know you're anxious about what I have to say so I think we need to go into the office for a very serious discussion of our future," Lydia announced as she swept past the three women. "Bring extra chairs so you can sit." Lydia firmly held onto the hand of the young girl and forced her to keep pace.
The women noted the cute girl had her head bowed and appeared nervous and anxious. She also looked familiar but they could not recall seeing her before.
Lydia took the seat behind Tony's desk and the girl stood mutely beside her as the women entered. Once they were seated Lydia sighed.
"This isn't going to be easy so please bear with me," Lydia began. "I'll try to answer your questions after I've explained what's going on. First, let me assure you that I have every intention of keeping Water's Systems in business and that each of you will keep your job if you want it. However, there will be drastic changes. I'm sure each of you know that the business is on the brink of going belly up. I hope that will change since I'm positive we will get the contract to create and install an entirely new computer system for Balkut Engineering. If that goes well, we'll get smaller contracts for Dr. Cassandra Trate's practice and FairyTale Fashions as well as quite a few other businesses that are owned by women. So our fiscal future looks bright."
"Linda, I intend to formally promote you to office manager," Lydia announced. "While I can't give you raises, it is my intention that on a quarterly basis the three of you will share fifty percent of the company profits. Hopefully, that will more than make up for no raises and give you greater incentive to make sure the business is a success."
The three women smiled and their mood improved as they listened. However, they realized there was something unusual going on.
"However, there are several problems," Lydia continued. "First, Tony will not be coming back. I am now the sole owner of Water's Systems. Last night my bratty son Robert embarrassed me by teasing two teenage boys who were being publicly punished by their mother. It turned out this woman, Grace Henry, was an acquaintance of Hillary Balkut, the owner of Balkut Engineering. It seems Hillary is having a Victorian Tea tomorrow and Grace's sons had just been outfitted in little Lord Fauntleroy outfits to attend. Her sons had not cooperated during the fitting and were being punished by having to select dolls at the toy store and carry them. They were leaving the toy store when Robert and I arrived to buy him a new football. As you can guess, Robert could not help but tease the already embarrassed boys for being sissies."
The women noted the pretty girl shuffled her feet uneasily and bowed her head even lower as Lydia spoke. They wondered who she was and what she was doing with Lydia instead of being in school. They also suspected the Henry connection to Hillary Balkut had a lot to do with the prospects of getting the computer contract with Balkut Engineering.
"I was mortified that Robert had the audacity to tease the poor boys and ordered him to stop and apologize," Lydia continued. "The little brat had the nerve to curse at me. I apologized to Grace for Robert's audacity and she graciously accepted. Then she suggested I take Robert to FairyTale Fashions to be fitted for a Lord Fauntleroy outfit and that we attend the Victorian Tea. Naturally, Robert was upset but he had learned from past experiences that if he became too disobedient, Tony would make him do as I wanted as punishment."
"Olivia Childress owns FairyTale Fashions," Lydia continued. "Grace had called ahead so when we arrived, Robert went with Olivia's daughter, Stephanie to be outfitted while Olivia took me to her office. During our discussion I realized the connection between Hillary Balkut and Balkut Engineering. I called Tony and explained the possibilities attending the Victorian Tea presented for landing the computer contract.
"It seems Olivia has an elaborate security system much like the one here," Lydia informed the women as she pointed out the camera in the corner. "When Tony arrived, he joined us in the office and Olivia turned on the surveillance system so we could monitor Robert to see if he was cooperating. What we saw was a chauvinistic brat bragging about how his father coerced a poor employee to grant him unethical favors of a most intimate manner. It seems Robert had used his computer knowledge to tap into the store's security system and not only saw but even video taped several of the encounters."
Linda gasped and turned beet red as Jane and Barbara looked at her. They knew how upset Linda was whenever she emerged from the daily consultations with Tony but had never suspected he might be taking advantage of her.
"I didn't have any choice," Linda sobbed. "He told me he'd fire me if I didn't do it. I don't have a diploma. I'm a single mother with no other income. Oh damn, I feel so..."
"It's all right, Linda," Lydia cut in. "I know all that. I watched the disgusting video's Robert made. In one of them you begged Tony to stop forcing you and he laughed at you. You were an unfortunate victim. Please notice I said WERE. I can guarantee that not only will you never have to do that to Tony again, no one will ever do that to Tony again. If anything, he'll be the one doing it."
The women all looked at Lydia in surprise. They could tell by the vehemence in her voice that she was not just spouting off. A chill went up their spines as the wondered what she'd done. Visions of Lorena Bobbit sprang into their minds.
"Tony sat with me in Olivia's office as Robert spouted off," Lydia stated. "He didn't try to deny anything and even confessed to his weakness. Olivia has a close relationship with Dr. Trate whom I mentioned earlier. I'm sure you've heard of her good reputation as a plastic surgeon, endocrinologist, and Hypnotherapist. Well, Dr. Trate has an interesting side line that matches her name quite well and fit in perfectly with disciplining both Tony and Robert. Now what do think Dr. Cassandra Trate's side line might be? Just think of what a good disciplinary procedure Dr. Cass Trate could employ."
The women gasped as they realized what Lydia was getting at. "Oh my," Linda gasped. "Cass Trate... Castrate. You don't mean..."
"It's even more than that," Lydia replied with a smug grin. "Dr. Trate not only castrates males, she does complete sex-change surgery and does plastic surgery to totally feminize the male. Tony ceased to exist early this morning. My sister-in law Tonia Waters was born at the same time. Tonia is currently in the hospital recovering from rather extensive surgery. She'll be joining Water's Systems in a month."
The women looked at Lydia with disbelief and more than a bit of admiration. All had been sexually victimized by unscrupulous males. They'd all wished they could find a suitable punishment for those men. But they had never considered forcing the male to become a woman.
"Tony agreed to this," Linda asked incredulously.
"Let's watch a video," Lydia replied. "Bobbi Jo, please put this tape in the VCR."
Bobbi Jo whimpered as he took the tape and plugged it into the VCR. Now he'd see his father's final humiliation and demise. It was all the worse because he had caused the entire debacle.
"I'm sure you've been wondering who this sweet little girl is," Lydia explained as Bobbi Jo carried out the orders. "She used to be my bratty twelve year old son, Robert. Now she's my ten year old prissy daughter. She'll have her sex-change surgery on Sunday. Bobbi Jo, please look directly at the nice ladies and smile as you show them how nicely you can curtsey."
The women gasped in total awe as they watched the cute girl turn and force a sickly smile as she executed a perfect dainty curtsey. They now recognized her as Robert and understood the girl's timid behavior. There was no trace of the former hellion they had known and dreaded.
Bobbi Jo completed his curtsey and scurried to his mother's side. He was totally upset and embarrassed yet was becoming strangely numb to the agony.
Everyone watched the damning video of Robert bragging about his father's exploits followed by Tony's ordeal and final collapse in the dressing room. The video ended with Tony being sedated and wheeled out of the room by the orderlies.
"Now you know that Tony begged to be transformed into a woman," Lydia added softly. "Despite all the bad things he did, I still love him. Tonia and I may become lesbian lovers. As you saw, he was tormented by his masculine urges and unable to control himself. I hope you can all find it in your hearts to forgive Tony and accept Tonia. I would like you all to stay on. Please remember my offer to share the profits. If you find you can't accept this, you'll have one month before she begins to work here. I'll see to it that you get four weeks severance pay and a good recommendation."
The three women exchanged looks of confusion. "I don't know if I can work with Tony," Linda replied. "I like the job and I would like to stay, but if he looks like a guy in drag, I just don't know." The others nodded their agreement.
"Tony doesn't exist," Lydia reaffirmed. "Tonia will appear to be Tony's sister. Dr. Trate has promised that Tonia will be totally feminine with no trace of male left in her. You can see how girlish Bobbi Jo appears and she has had no surgery, just a change of clothes and attitude. If you want to try working with Tonia, do so. My severance offer will still apply."
"Does Dr. Trate do a lot of these sex-changes," Jane asked.
"Yes," Lydia answered. "Although she doesn't advertize it. In fact, she actually gets off transforming guys into gals. The more chauvinistic a guy is, the more she enjoys turning him into his own wet dream. She has enough males brought in for the treatments by word of mouth to keep her happy."
"So you're Bobbi Jo now," Linda said as she looked at the timid girl. "I want to thank you for getting me out of the mess I'd allowed myself to get into. You certainly do make a pretty girl. If I hadn't known you as a bratty boy, I'd swear you had always been a sweet girl. But tell me, how do you feel about becoming a girl?"
"You can speak honestly," Lydia informed Bobbi Jo when he hesitated.
"I'm really not sure," Bobbi Jo finally confessed sheepishly. "I really hated it at first, but now that it's happening, it's not as bad as I thought. Some parts of being a girl seem pretty nice, but I still want to be a boy. I didn't realize how bad I was before all this happened. I was just doing what most other guys do. I never thought that teasing and pranks could hurt a person. Most of us guys think that if you're not hurt physically, you're not really hurt. That's why we tease. It's not that we're trying to be nasty, we just don't understand. I don't want to become a girl, but I know now that I have to do whatever Mommy wants me to do so I guess I have to become a girl."
"Yes, Bobbi Jo, you do have to become a girl," Lydia stated firmly. "As for your explanation about why boys tease, it's pretty accurate. Boys are stubborn, chauvinistic, and self-centered. It's easier for them to pull others down to their level than it is to pull themselves up. So they tease and torment anyone that's different. That's why it takes a good dose of Petticoat Discipline to straighten a boy out and open his eyes."
"Petticoat discipline, what's that," Barbara asked.
"Petticoat Discipline is a punishment from the Victorian era," Lydia explained. "All too often we write off a boy's bad behavior and uncouth manners as just part of being a boy and make no effort to correct them. I was guilty of that. But no more. In Petticoat Discipline a boy or even a tomboy who is disobedient, disrespectful, naughty, or just wild, is forced to dress in a very prissy girlish fashion. The mode of dress alone embarrasses the child into behaving in order to end the punishment. When used to full effect, the child undergoing Petticoat Discipline must also behave in a manner appropriate for their mode of dress. Often, the punishment will continue until the child learns to dress themselves and the proper behavior becomes second nature. As you can see by Bobbi Jo, who was only subjected to Petticoat Discipline yesterday evening, it is quite effective. Petticoat Discipline works so quickly and effectively because it denies a boy everything he feels he needs to be a boy. Some people use Petticoat Discipline to publicly humiliate a boy by having people realize he's a boy in girl's clothes. While Dr. Trate, Olivia Childress, Hillary Balkut, and others use the threat of public exposure to force the Petticoated boy to cooperate, they do not like doing so. They feel such exposure to ridicule reduces the effectiveness of Petticoat Discipline to the level of loutish masculine behavior. I heartily agree with that view. In fact, I'm so delighted with the results of Petticoat Discipline that I intend to keep Bobbi Jo in skirts. That's why I've decided to turn him into a girl."
The women were silent as they absorbed all this new information. They kept looking at Bobbi Jo, marveling in the total transformation that had taken place. Obviously Petticoat Discipline was highly effective. They were delighted to have the prankster out of their hair. Bobbi Jo already looked and behaved like a demure girl. They thought it was a bit of poetic justice that he had been reduced to a ten year old girl. While they liked the concept of Petticoat Discipline, they wondered if forcing Bobbi Jo to become a girl was a bit of overkill. On the other hand, from their own personal experiences combined with what they saw on the video tape, they felt little compassion towards Tony's coerced transformation. In their opinion he was getting what he deserved. They knew they'd have to wait until Tonia joined the firm to see if they could accept the new woman. Each woman found herself wondering if a bit of Petticoat Discipline would remedy the behavior of the irascible males in their lives.
This was particularly true for Linda. Her irascible eight year old son was getting to be quite a handful. In fact, just yesterday he'd just been thrown out of his third after school daycare. Linda bitterly realized that little Tommy Jr. was growing up much like his father. Linda grew angry as she slipped into the bitter memories of her past.
Linda had been a shy, naive fifteen year old girl. Due to her strict parents, she was innocent of the ways of the world. At the start of her freshman year in high school she had been a shy plain Jane type girl. By Christmas, she'd blossomed into a cute giggly teenage girl. Tommy Harris had been a handsome senior, the big man on campus. Captain of the football, basketball, and baseball teams, he had all the girls eager to be seen on his arm. The girls quickly learned the cost of being seen on his arm was time in the backseat of his car. Then to make matters worse he'd then accuse the girl of being a slut and dump her. Many reputations were ruined. Thus, by Christmas, no self-respecting junior or senior girl would go near him.
It was then he set his eyes on innocent Linda. Just feeling her hormones, she was flattered by his overtures and attention. When he asked her out, she demurred saying she would not be allowed to date until she turned sixteen. Tommy coaxed and begged her, telling her he was going to kill himself if she didn't go out with him. Linda stupidly believed him and begged her parents to allow her to date him. They not only refused, they forbid her to even see the boy in school. Linda was devastated and tried to avoid Tommy but he pursued her and finally cornered her. She confessed her parents strictness and broke down in tears of frustration.
Tommy comforted her and cooed that she was his one true love and that her parents simply wanted to keep her as a little girl forever. Then he told her that he couldn't live without her and that he was going down to the bridge over the river that night, and if she didn't show up by midnight, he'd jump in and drown himself. Linda foolishly believed him and tearfully begged him not to kill himself. He told her that if he didn't show up for school the next morning, she'd know he'd done it and that she would be the one responsible.
That night Linda slipped from her home and ran to the bridge. She breathlessly arrived at ten of twelve to see Tommy sitting on the rail in the center of the span with his legs dangling over the water. She'd screamed for him to stop and ran up to him. Half an hour later, she was deflowered in the back seat of his car. Fifteen minutes later a very confused and bewildered Linda was sneaking back into her home.
The loud exhaust on Tommy's car had disrupted the quiet of the normally still night, awakening Linda's parents when he stopped in front of their home and then sped off. When they heard her climbing the stairs, they investigated. One look at Linda's torn dress and bloody thighs and they knew what had happened. Bellows of rage, accusations of being a harlot filled the night. Linda begged for a chance to explain but they refused to listen. Actually, her father refused to listen. Her mother could not listen as she had no choice but to follow her husbands every demand.
Linda's life became shear hell. Her parents treated her like a whore barely tolerating her presence. Tommy betrayed her loyalty and sacrifice by bragging about taking advantage of the cute dumb girl so that soon everyone in town knew what had happened. All the guys tried to hit on her. When her parents found out she was pregnant, they threw her out of the house. Naturally Tommy denied being the father and arranged for several of his buddies to say they too had sex with the young girl. Fortunately, the good sister's at St. Patrick's took her in and found a safe home for unwed mothers where she had her child, a son she named Tommy after his father. She refused to put him up for adoption since the infant was the only family she now had. She vowed to raise Tommy to be a good, respectful boy. She vowed to never risk becoming pregnant again. She vowed to never allow herself to marry a demanding, unyielding man like her father.
Tommy Harris refused to acknowledge fatherhood and thus never paid a dime of child support. Linda never formally pursued the matter because she was ashamed to reveal how innocent and naive she had been. Linda took any job she could get and worked her fingers to the bone. Every man she met saw her as a nice dumb piece of meat. She quickly learned that certain sexual favors had to be given to her male employers to get and keep a good job. Most of the men had accepted oral favors. When they demanded more, she switched jobs, determined never to give another man the chance of making her pregnant. Tony Waters had been no exception although he had paid her the best.
Now as her sexually abused life flashed back, she found herself wondering if she could use Petticoat Discipline on her son Tommy. She also wondered if Dr. Trate could somehow repay that bastard Tommy Harris for what he'd done to her and countless other females.
Linda came out her reverie to find Jane and Barbara had left the office and Lydia and Bobbi Jo patiently waiting. "I'm sorry," Linda apologized. "I guess I spaced out a bit."
"There's no need to apologize," Lydia replied. "After all that I've revealed, especially your intimate involvement in certain aspects, spacing out is understandable. Linda, I want to apologize for what Tony forced you to do. I don't blame you in the least and I fully understand why you did what you did and why you kept silent. I'm guilty of the same things. I allowed Tony to sexually abuse me and control my life, only I did it under the guise of marriage."
Just then there came a hurried knock on the office door and a blonde headed boy poked his head in the room. "Mom, I'm here," Tommy Fritz announced. Then after seeing that only his mother, Lydia, and a shy girl were in the room he swaggered inside, never bothering to ask permission.
"Tommy Fritz," Linda scolded the surprised boy. "Where are your manners? Did anyone give you permission to come into the room? What if we'd have been in a meeting with a big customer? You could have ruined a big business deal."
"That's why I looked first," Tommy explained totally confused by his mother's ire. "When I didn't see Mr. Water's, I just figured you were gabbing with Mrs. Henry."
"Just gabbing, huh," Linda berated her son. "So you're saying what women talk about isn't important and you can just barge in without even an EXCUSE ME. That is extremely rude."
"I didn't say that," Tommy complained. "Geeze, you never got upset with me before."
"That was because I was hoping you'd wise up on your own," Linda chided. "But I can see my hopes were wasted. You are rude, arrogant, and have no respect for women. Just yesterday afternoon during your parent/teacher conference your teacher told me how you tease the girls at school and refuse to let them join you and the other boys when you play ball."
"But all the guys do that," Tommy replied defensively. "We don't want to some prissy girls playing with us guys!"
"So you don't want anything to do with prissy girls and tease them to boot," Lydia interrupted. "I suppose you wouldn't want to play with Bobbi Jo," she added as she put her arm on Bobbi Jo's trembling shoulder. "What could a sweet girl like her, or any other nice girl for that matter, ever have done to you to warrant such demeaning chauvinistic behavior?"
"Well she hasn't really done anything," Tommy replied defensively as he looked at the shy girl for the first time. There was something strangely familiar about her, as if he'd seen her before, but he knew he'd never met her. "But girls like her are always a pain because they go crying as soon as they get bumped or we yell a bit. If a girl wants to play with the boys, then she has to play like the boys. That means playing rough and getting bumped around."
Bobbi Jo just kept his head lowered and his hands demurely folded behind his back throughout the exchange. His nervousness was getting to him. For the past few years, he'd been bullying Tommy, bossing the younger boy around and lording it over him. Now, in his present Petticoated condition, if Tommy recognized him, he'd be teased to no end. Now he understood how cruel he'd been to Allie and Jamie outside the toy store. In an effort to calm his nearly shattered nerves, Bobbi Jo moved closer to his mother and began to twist his body back and forth at his hips in the fashion children do when nervous. This caused his skirt to swirl out and back with each gyration which created a naughtily delightful tickling as the lace hem of his slip brushed his thighs. The soft girlish swishing noise seemed to fill the room with noise during gaps in the conversation.
"Did you ever think that perhaps it would more fun to play without being so rough," Linda asked. "Bobbi Jo, do you like playing rough and tumble games with boys?"
"N... no," Bobbi Jo responded softly in a barely audible whisper.
Tommy didn't like the direction the conversation was going as he finally realized he was being set up. With more than a bit of irritation Tommy looked closely at the girl as she responded. It was just like a prissy girl to put down boys. Up until now her behavior had seemed typical of a prissy girl although she seemed a bit reluctant to take the stand she had taken. Maybe until recently she had been a tomboy. In his own boyish arrogance he had to admit that she was cute in her prissy gingham dress. Still, there was something eerily familiar about her but he just couldn't put his finger on what it was that created that feeling. Then he began to wonder who she might be. She seemed to be just a few years older than himself and was obviously very close to Mrs. Waters. Yet he knew the Waters had only one child, Robert. Just who was this timid Bobbi Jo? More importantly, could he boss her around? As long as she stayed this close to Mrs. Waters, he'd never have the chance.
Those thoughts led to similar thoughts of boyish domination and submission. Tommy smiled with a bit of satisfaction that he had only had a half day of school yesterday and today because of parent teacher conferences. Since Robert was in seventh grade, he had to go the whole day. Whenever Robert was near Tommy, the older boy had always been a bossy bully. Tommy grew miffed as he recalled Robert telling Tommy to shut up and do as he was told or he'd have his father fire his mother. Tommy knew how dependant they were on his mother's job. That combined with the fact that Robert could physically overpower Tommy led the younger lad to always cave in to Robert's demands.
"Well, Tommy's obvious already a male chauvinist piglet" Lydia declared as she shook her head. "Bobbi Jo, Linda and I have more things to discuss before we leave. Here's five dollars," Lydia stated as she handed the petticoated lad some money. "Why don't you and Tommy go down to the drugstore and buy some sodas?"
Tommy was delighted at the prospect of going for sodas even if it meant going with a prissy girl.
"Mommy," Bobbi Jo gasped in shock as he stared in disbelief at his mother.
Tommy was a bit confused at Bobbi Jo's obvious repugnance of Mrs. Waters suggestion. Why would anyone not want to go for sodas?
"I don't want to go out without you," Bobbi Jo whined as he gave his mother a look of panic.
"Young lady, you will do as you're told," Lydia announced firmly. "Now take Tommy for a soda."
"Yeah, let's go," Tommy demanded. "Stop acting like such a prissy goody two shoes." In his excitement to get out of the bothersome conversation with his mother and the prospect of a soda, Tommy didn't register that Bobbi Jo had called Mrs. Waters MOMMY.
Bobbi Jo looked helplessly at his mother, realizing that she was forcing him to take Tommy for sodas. There was no way he wanted to be alone with Tommy. Yet he knew he had no choice. Meekly he took the money and quickly headed for the door as he tried to stop himself from bursting into tears. If he could just stay ahead of Tommy, hopefully the younger boy would not recognize him as his former nemesis.
"Miss Bobbi Jo Waters," Lydia intoned stopping the fleeing boy/girl in his tracks. "I will not have my daughter running around like a tomboy. Those days are over for you. A proper young miss walks sedately at all times. I also expect you to hold hands with Tommy. Is that clear, young lady?"
Tommy's ears now perked up and he frowned, looking closely at Bobbi Jo. Mrs. Waters had just said that Bobbi Jo was her daughter. With that revelation he recalled that Bobbi Jo had called her MOMMY. That meant Bobbi Jo had be Robert's sister. That would explain why Tommy thought the cute girl looked familiar. But Robert was an only child. Tommy was totally confused. Before he could ruminate further, his mother interrupted his thought process.
"Tommy, I expect you to be a good boy and hold hands with Bobbi Jo until you return," Linda curtly ordered.
"Hold hands with a sissy girl," Tommy questioned in a shocked tone obviously completely repulsed by the idea of holding hands that his conjecture about Bobbi Jo's relationship with Robert and Mrs. Waters were forgotten. "No way!"
Bobbi Jo wanted to melt into the floor. It was traumatic enough that he was dressed and expected to behave like a prissy girl. His beleaguered self esteem was thoroughly humiliated by being classified as a sissy girl with whom no self respecting boy would want to be seen holding hands. The petticoated lad could no longer hold back his tears
"Tommy Fritz," Linda scolded. "You will apologize to Bobbi Jo at once."
Tommy wanted to lash out but knew enough that when a boy made a prissy girl cry, he was in deep trouble. Barely controlling his anger he hung his head in mock shame to gain a bit of time.
"Come to mommy," Lydia cooed to her crying pseudo-daughter as she held out her arms.
Bobbi Jo stepped into his mother's comforting embrace. Her concerned love tempered his anguish and reassured him that everything would be all right. The tears stopped almost instantly. It felt nice to be hugged. Despite his boyish angst, he realized that being a girl had other benefits besides the pretty clothing. As a boy he could have never allowed himself to cry. As a girl the incessant pressure boys feel to never appear like a weak sissy was gone. Now that he was becoming a girl he could freely cry or even giggle. If only Tommy wasn't still in the room, things might almost be nice.
Suddenly Bobbi Jo stiffened. What was happening to him? Why was he looking for reasons to be glad about being forced to become a girl? A wave of nausea swept over him as he realized he was betraying his boyhood. It was all Tommy's fault, he’d made him cry! Anger against Tommy flared within his heart. Tommy was the one teasing him, treating him as if he already were a real girl!
As quickly as the anger flared, it dissipated, replaced by compassion and pity for Tommy. As far as Tommy knew, Bobbi Jo was a real girl. Tommy was only doing what any red-blooded boy would do in a similar situation. Tommy was just being a dumb boy teasing a prissy girl.
That thought further chilled Bobbi Jo. What was happening to him? Why were his emotions becoming so jumbled? One moment he felt like an indignant boy being humiliated beyond belief by his Petticoat Discipline. The next he felt like the prissy girl he appeared to be. Then in between he felt almost disconnected from either reality to see things from another perspective. The constant switches were making him dizzy as his mind swirled in confusion.
On one hand he was already sometimes beginning to think and feel like a girl, thinking that boys were dumb. Looking at things from his enforced girlishness, he could see that boys were dumb. They were dumb because they were so hung up on being male they forgot to be human. Life as boy was hellish because a boy always has to keep up his guard and appear tough and hard lest he be though of as a sissy.
Then his boyish indignation once more flared. Bobbi Jo was crushed enough to know he could not undo his Petticoat Discipline. He was stuck being a petticoated boy. There was no way he could lash out at Tommy without dire consequences yet his shattered masculinity demanded retribution against the boy who was forcing him to confront his petticoated reality. What angered Bobbi Jo was that it just didn't seem fair that he was being forced to give up his boyhood while Tommy kept his boyhood. Tommy should be forced to become a girl too.
That sparked a determination to use his enforced feminization to ensnare Tommy in the same deadly petticoated web. Collecting himself as best he could, Bobbi Jo kissed his mother on the cheek. "Thank you, mommy," he stated in a soft girlish voice. "I really needed a hug.," he added after he gave his surprised mother a peck on the cheek. Then while staying firmly in his mother's embrace, he looked directly at Tommy. Wrinkling his nose he stuck out his tongue like a true prissy mommy's girl. "You were right, mommy," he added prissily. "Boys can be such a bother."
Lydia had been pleased when Bobbi Jo so willingly accepted her offer of a hug when he'd broken into tears. It felt so good to protectively cuddle her sweet daughter. Once the tears stopped, she could feel Bobbi Jo alternately tensing and relaxing as he went through what she knew had to be a tremendous amount of emotional turmoil. She was surprised by his peck on the cheek. Bobbi Jo's entire stance and expression was one of dainty girlishness, a sight she had not seen nor even expected he was capable of as of yet. The cute wrinkled nose and stuck out tongue seemed quite in tune with Bobbi Jo's sudden girlishness as did his words of condemnation for boys. But it only took a minute until she realized what the little scamp was doing. Since he obviously could not beat up Tommy like he'd have done if he was still in jeans, he was going to provoke Tommy into doing something that would result in his being subjected to Petticoat Discipline.
Linda was amazed by Bobbi Jo's apparent capitulation to his newly enforced girlhood. He seemed so daintily girlish. Thoughts of doing the same to Tommy danced in her mind.
Tommy became livid when he saw Bobbi Jo stick out his tongue and condemn boys. All thought of apologizing as his mother had instructed fled his mind, as did the possible consequences of disobeying his mother. "Why you little bitch," Tommy hissed as he balled his fists and stepped towards Bobbi Jo.
Bobbi Jo, playing his plotted prissy girl role to perfection, squealed with mock terror and cowered with girlish jitterishness against his mother.
"Tommy Fritz," Linda snapped as she grabbed his arm. Her fury almost overwhelmed her restraint. "How dare you call Bobbi Jo that horrid name. You are in BIG trouble, young man... very big trouble!"
Tommy was jerked back to reality by his mother's restraint and scolding. Suddenly he realized that he'd been played for a fool by Bobbi Jo. She'd set him up to do what he did and he'd stupidly played right into her plot. How stupid can I be, he berated himself.
"Linda, it's not entirely Tommy's fault," Lydia replied as she slipped an arm firmly about Bobbi Jo. "My darling little sissy intentionally provoked Tommy, didn't you young lady?"
Bobbi Jo's faux cowering from Tommy suddenly turned to chilling fear. Knowing he had to confess or face even more horrendous punishment than he already faced, Bobbi Jo sagged forlornly and hung his head in shame. "Yes, mommy, I did try to make him be bad. I'm sorry."
Tommy was now quite confused. A boy certainly never would have confessed to being caught red-handed in a mischievous plot. Why were girls so dumb?
With Lydia's pronouncement and Bobbi Jo's admission and apology, Linda wasn't sure how to proceed. "That still doesn't excuse Tommy's vulgar language," Linda intoned.
"I thoroughly agree," Lydia stated. "Tommy, I'm afraid you have a case of terminal masculinity. My son Robert and husband Tony died just yesterday because of that condition.
Tommy was shocked to learn of the deaths. Like most eight year old boys, he had no idea what to say. His immediate concern was for himself. He knew that terminal meant end, as in fatal or dying. He also knew that masculinity meant boy or man. If this terminal masculinity had killed Tony and Robert, it would probably kill him. "Mommy, I don't want to die," he begged his mother in near hysteria. "Please do something!"
"I might do something if you apologize to Bobbi Jo for being so rude and apologize to all of us for using such vulgar language," Linda replied curtly going along with Lydia's ploy.
"Please, Bobbi Jo, forgive me or being so rude," Tommy pleaded as he dropped to his knees and faced Bobbi Jo. Then he looked at his mother and Lydia. "Please forgive me for using bad language. I promise to be good from now on."
"I think we can accept that apology," Lydia declared. "If you're a good boy and hold Bobbi Jo's hand while you go for sodas."
Tommy looked crestfallen and confused. There were simply too many different things going on for him to make any sense of anything. The only thing about which he was certain was that he kept getting into trouble and it was all because of Bobbi Jo. "All right," Tommy capitulated unhappily.
"Very good," Lydia stated. "Bobbi Jo, take Tommy's hand and go. We expect you back here in fifteen minutes. Is that clear young lady?"
"Yes, mommy," Bobbi Jo replied softly as he tentatively reached for Tommy's hand as he headed for the door. "Come on, Tommy, let's go."
Tommy reluctantly put his hand in Bobbi Jo's hand. It was clearly evident that neither child wanted to hold hands, yet they obediently did so. Bobbi Jo led the way making every effort to stay in front of Tommy. At first Tommy was content to stay behind Bobbi Jo as he didn't want it to appear as if they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Then he realized that it looked as if he were a small child being led about by his hand. This infuriated Tommy and he scurried to catch up. Side by side they entered the store to get their drinks. When the clerk asked for their order Tommy butted in and ordered before Bobbi Jo could speak. Bobbi Jo grew even more upset with the little twerp. As soon as they were served, Tommy began to leave. Bobbi Jo had to scurry to catch up to him.
"Hey, Fritz-head, we're supposed to be holding hands," Bobbi Jo called after him with growing fear for the possible consequences as he reached out for Tommy's hand. "We'll get into trouble if we're not holding hands but you'll get into a lot more trouble than me if you don't."
The only person who ever called Tommy FRITZ-HEAD was Robert. Robert had discovered that Tommy was super-sensitive to that derogatory nickname and used it to get Tommy worked up. Not only that, but it had been said in Robert's voice.
Tommy stopped in his tracks and turned to face Robert only to find Bobbi Jo. His stop was so abrupt that Bobbi Jo almost ran into him. Tommy looked closely at Bobbi Jo with a penetrating glare. Bobbi Jo grew pale and stepped back.
Suddenly everything clicked into place. Bobbi Jo was Robert! No wonder Bobbi Jo had called Mrs. Waters Mommy! What was Robert, who prided himself for always such a tough guy, doing not only dressed as a girl but even behaving like a girl? Then again, Mrs. Waters had said that Bobbi Jo was her daughter. She'd also said that Robert was dead. Did that mean that somehow Mrs. Waters was forcing Robert to become Bobbi Jo? Tommy's mouth dropped open as he stared at Bobbi Jo. It took a moment of close scrutiny but he realized the pretty girl was indeed his former nemesis. Robert was dressed as a prissy girl! Robert was the biggest sissy he had ever seen!
"You’re Robert," Tommy laughed aloud as he pointed at Bobbi Jo who began to back away from him in terror and humiliation. "So Mr. Tough Guy turns out to be the biggest sissy that ever lived! You are such a faggot. Come on, little girl, show me your pretty panties!"
Bobbi Jo squealed in terror and turned to flee as Tommy reached out to grab his skirt. Bobbi Jo felt his entire life go up in smoke as he felt utter humiliation and desperation knowing that his enforced girlhood had been discovered. Never had he felt so humiliated and helpless. He felt like a prissy girl fleeing from a teasing bully boy.
Tommy laughed uproariously as he chased Bobbi Jo down the street while the fake girl screamed in fear. He could have easily caught Bobbi Jo, but chose instead to prolong the sissy boy's agony by keeping just one step behind. People passing by saw the chase and thought it was simply a case of a rowdy boy teasing a prissy girl. The guys chuckled while the females fumed.
No one noticed the a breeze suddenly appear in the alley that bisected the street. As the swirling wind grew in strength, it swept up several leaves and discarded papers as it rose into small tornado like vortex. It wasn't until the swirling funnel cloud leaped from the alley to land directly behind the fleeing Bobbi Jo who felt the swirling breeze hit his trailing foot. The wind quickly engulfed Tommy as he pursued the fleeing false girl. Tommy stumbled to a halt and flailed his arms about to fend off the swirling debris. Bobbi Jo stopped and turned to look at the strange wind. A chill went up and down his spine as he recalled a similar mini-tornado suddenly appear and engulf him outside the toy store when he'd been teasing Allie and Jamie.
Bobbi Jo swore the rustling sound of the debris formed whispered words that he could hear, almost like some bizarre spooky magic spell.
"By your wish Heather, druidic power hired;
let teasing Tommy Fritz a girl be rewired;
To stay a boy he is no longer desired;
so nature, let this lad from boyhood be fired;
soon as a girl he'll be happily attired!"
Bobbi Jo shivered and fled into the building that housed Water's Systems. Everyone looked up as the shaken pseudo girl stumbled inside the showroom. Lydia and Linda rushed forward since it was obvious that something had spooked the frightened Bobbi Jo. They also worried about Tommy who was no where to be seen.
Bobbi Jo flung himself into his mother's arms and began to cry and blurt out that Tommy had teased him and chased him down the street after discovering his masquerade. While Lydia comforted her nearly hysterical child a very furious Linda headed for the door to search for Tommy. Just as she reached the door the dirty bedraggled boy stumbled inside. Leaves and bits of paper were caught in his hair. Dirt was smeared on his forehead and cheeks and his shirt was pulled from his jeans. Linda's anger turned to concern. Even on his worst days, Tommy could never get that filthy that quickly. She knelt before Tommy and began to check him over as a grandmotherly type woman rushed inside.
"Is he all right," the concerned woman asked as she looked at Tommy and Bobbi Jo. "I saw this boy chasing that girl down the sidewalk and just as I was going to stop him a miniature tornado appeared out of the alley and seemed to jump between them and ensnare the boy. He stumbled about swatting at the wind as it bounced him about for at least thirty seconds. Then the tornado disappeared as quicky as it appeared. I saw the girl head in here and before I could get to the boy he stumbled after her. I just followed to see if he was all right."
"Thank you for your concern," Linda replied as she checked the dazed lad. "He's all right. But he won't be for long. How many times have I told you not tease girls? I promised myself when you were born that I would never allow you to grow up to be a macho jerk like your father. I will keep that promise no matter what I have to do. You are in BIG trouble, young man, BIG TROUBLE."
"Ahh... you won't hurt Tommy will you," the woman asked as she turned beet red.
"It's none of your business what I do with my son," Linda declared with great vehemence. "Just how do you know his name?"
"I... ah... I...," the woman blushed even darker. Then she closed her eyes and squeezed her hands into fists. Her entire body trembled as she fought for self-control. As she calmed down, tears trickled from her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have interfered. I'm just a silly old woman, forgive me. I'll leave now."
"Wait," Lydia called out. "I can tell you're not a silly old woman. You really care about Tommy. Why?"
The woman bit her lip and dabbed the tears from her eyes. "Please, hear me out before you tell me to leave," she began. "I followed Tommy here from school. I do that almost every day. Up until today, it's as close as I've been able to get to him. I'm not some child molester or anything like that. Tommy is my grandson."
Tommy looked up at the woman quizzically. Linda looked surprised, then her face clouded. "You're the mother of Tommy Harris," she stated in an accusatory tone.
"Yes, I'm Ellen Harris. I don't blame you for hating me," Ellen Harris declared. "I'm so sorry for what Tommy did to you and all those other girls. My late husband backed Tommy to the hilt and I was never allowed to doubt what Tommy told us. It's only been since last year when my husband died that I've discovered how nasty Tommy has been. I never suspected he was such a womanizer. I know of at least eight girls that had abortions. I thank God that you were the only girl he ever made pregnant that had the child. I've wanted to meet you and thank you for being so courageous to raise your child alone but I've been too ashamed to do so. I've been following your son for the last few months, trying to see what he was like. I know you’re doing your best to raise him, but what I've seen is that he is all too much like his father was at this age. A teasing young hellion. That's why I was going to try to stop him from teasing this young girl. I know this is probably too late to really mean anything to you, but I am truly sorry for all that Tommy did to you. I want to help you and your Tommy. I'd like to get to know both of you. But if you tell me to get out, I'll understand."
Linda softened as the woman spoke. It was clear that she spoke from her heart. "I'm glad to finally meet you," Linda stated as she stood up. "If you truly meant what you just said about helping and getting to know us, I'll welcome you. But, Tommy is my child and I will make the decisions. I will not have you going against my wishes and disrupting our lives."
"I'll do my best to abide by your desires," Ellen said with grateful tears. "Please let me know if you feel I'm disrupting your handling of Tommy and I'll step back."
Linda stepped forward and gave Ellen a hug. Then she stepped back. "My parents threw me out when they discovered I was pregnant. My mother wanted to help, but my father refused. I understand how a domineering macho man can control his wife. My mother had to die to free herself from my father's control. You were lucky."
"Where is my father," Tommy asked.
"Right now he's in jail," Ellen replied. "He was caught dealing drugs. He's not worth your time."
"Which brings me back to you, young man," Linda turned to her errant son. "You, my dear son, are about to die."
Tommy's eyes grew wide with fear. Ellen gasped. "I know I said I wouldn't cut in on your authority, but..."
"She's not going to kill Tommy," Lydia cut in with a chuckle. "She's going to kill off her son, not her child."
Tommy and Ellen both looked confused.
"Ellen, perhaps you'd be interested in knowing that my sweet daughter Bobbi Jo, whom Tommy was chasing and tormenting, was up until yesterday my nasty son Robert," Lydia stated as she patted Bobbi Jo on the head.
"MOMMY," Bobbi Jo squealed in horror as he turned beet red. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone!"
"I said I wouldn't humiliate you by publicly revealing who you were," Lydia corrected as she looked directly into Bobbi Jo's eyes. "Now, young lady, as punishment for your outburst, you just go stand in the corner by the door."
Bobbi Jo was properly put in place by the polite scolding. However, he couldn't understand why his mother had blatantly winked at him when she sent him to stand in the corner by the door. It seemed as if she was merely sending him to stand in the corner as a show of power rather than as a real punishment. Perhaps it was meant to intimidate Tommy. That had to be it, at least he hoped that was the case.
"Yesterday I met a group of enlightened women," Lydia explained as she turned to Ellen and Linda. "They feel that males are too controlled by their testosterone. Those males who have little control over their actions, particularly those with conceited chauvinistic outlooks, should be eliminated. Now they do not want to kill these males, but to re-educate them. The best way to do this is through strict Petticoat Discipline. Often this involves forcing the offending male to undergo a complete sex-change and become a female. That's what I'm doing to Bobbi Jo. My husband underwent sex-change surgery late last night. That's what Linda means when she says that Tommy is going to die. Tommy the boy will die... but the child will live... as a girl."
"It took meeting Grace Henry and Olivia Childress yesterday to open my eyes," Lydia explained. "I haven't met Dr. Cassandra Trate yet, but I have spoken to her on the phone. She is one remarkable woman and the mover behind this philosophy of strict Petticoat Discipline. She's made arrangements with Mother Superior Murphy at St. Patrick's Parochial School to accept any student who is changing their sex. The school accepts the boy's records from his old school and alters them to indicate the child has always been a girl. All our lives are going to change. We're going to take control of our lives. No longer will we kow-tow to arrogant males. We'll put those women's lib people to shame with what we do. I want you to join me, to join Grace, to join Olivia, to join Hillary Balkut, and to join Dr. Trate in establishing a new way of handling chauvinistic males. Are you willing to do it?"
"I think I see what you mean," Ellen agreed as she surveyed Bobbi Jo's demure appearance. "So you were Robert Waters. I saw you teasing Tommy several times, You were quite a nasty bully. If this is the change that only one day makes, I heartily agree. Linda, please don't take offence to this, but my grandson is not the kind of grandchild about whom a grandmother would like to brag. Now if instead I had a sweet granddaughter, that would be most delightful."
"Yes, I am more than willing to do it," Linda replied with fierce determination. "I take no offense to what you've said, Ellen. In fact, I heartily agree with your assessment. I have one particular male in mind who would benefit from strict Petticoat Discipline. Isn't that right, TAMMY?"
Tommy cowered away from his mother and grandmother. He didn't like their crazy idea about killing off boys and turning them into girls. It seemed ridiculously impossible. But one look at Bobbi Jo meekly standing in the corner by the door told him it was all too possible.
Bobbi Jo smiled when she saw Tommy's nervous glance at him. Tommy was going to be turned into a girl! Now he understood why his mother sent him to stand in the corner by the door. A mischievous smiled played across his girlish lips as he kept a close eye on Tommy.
"I'm sure if I'd have known about this Petticoat Discipline and had been able to implement it on my son, he would not be in jail today," Ellen stated. "You said your husband just had a sex-change operation. Did he want to do it?"
"No, but he had no choice," Lydia explained. "I had him trapped."
"Tommy is due to get out of jail in two weeks," Ellen declared. "He'll be coming home to me to sponge until he remakes his connections in the drug world. He'll either end up in jail again or dead. Do you think this group of women can help kill my son and save my child?"
"That should be no problem at all," Lydia stated. "I'm sure arrangements can be made."
"Linda, I'd like you and my granddaughter to move in with me," Ellen offered. "I have plenty of room and it'd be easier for Tammy to begin her life in a new environment. I'll pay her tuition to attend St. Patrick's Parochial School."
"No way," Tommy yelled as he bolted for the door. "You're not going to turn me into a sissy!"
Linda and Ellen were caught by surprise as the boy made for the door. The realized he would get out before they could reach him. Lydia wasn't in the least worried. In fact, she smiled as she saw Bobbi Jo daintily slip a Mary Jane clad foot across the doorway just as Tommy pushed open the door. The surprised boy tripped and fell face first across the threshold. His mother and grandmother were on him before he could get to his feet. As the two women unceremoniously dragged him back inside, Bobbi Jo stood in the corner with his hands demurely folded looking quite angelic.
"Good girl," Lydia declared as she held out her arms.
Bobbi Jo smiled happily and scurried in a delightful swirl of skirts to the warm hug. It felt so good to be praised and hugged. Being a girl wasn't going to be so bad after all. However, on glancing at Tommy, she wilted guiltily from his damning glare.
"Tommy, Bobbi Jo did what I expected her to do when I sent her to stand by the door," Lydia explained to the cowed lad. "I knew you'd foolishly try to run away so I purposely made you think I was punishing her by having her stand in the corner so she'd be in position to stop you. Even if you had made it through the door, we'd have caught you and transformed you into a girl. Bobbi Jo's assistance has just made it less of a hassle."
Linda and Ellen looked at Lydia and Bobbi Jo with respect. Jane and Barbara, who were working in the store and had witnessed the entire scene, were also impressed.
"Bobbi Jo and I are to meet Mrs. Henry and her charming two new daughters at Guido's at one," Lydia said. "Perhaps you'd like to join us. I'm sure Tommy would like to meet fifteen year old Allie and fourteen year old Jamie, who like Bobbi Jo were boys until yesterday."
"Jane, Barbara, can you please mind the shop for the rest of the day," Lydia asked the two employees. "I have a feeling Linda and Ellen will want to take Tommy to FairyTale Fashions after we're done eating."
"I'm sure you can be done buying a new wardrobe for Tammy by four," Lydia explained. "You can meet us at St. Patrick's Parochial School at four thirty to enroll Tammy as we enroll Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie."
At one they met at Guido's as planned. Grace Henry was delighted to meet Tommy, Linda, and Ellen. Allie and Jamie, dressed alike and similarly to Bobbi Jo, curtseyed daintily. Bobbi Jo responded with a curtsey of his own. Linda and Ellen were delighted with the demure girlishness of the three transformed boys. They found it difficult to believe the three demure young ladies had ever been boys much less the nasty boys they truly had been before their unwanted transformations. Tommy was ready to puke as he was surrounded by the overt girlishness. It seemed inconceivable that Allie and Jamie had ever been boys. But then it seemed just as impossible that Bobbi Jo had ever been a boy yet he knew that was the truth. The women never for a moment left Tommy forget that he would soon be joining the ranks of petticoated lads. Tommy's resolve to not let himself be humiliated in skirts was on shaky ground since he knew how tough a guy Robert had been. What hope did he have?
As they were waiting for their appetizers, Grace used her cell phone to call Olivia Childress to tell her about Tommy. Tommy squirmed uneasily in his seat as Grace smiled and informed Linda and Ellen that Olivia would be more than delighted to help them reveal sweet little Tammy who was hidden beneath Tommy's rowdy exterior. Linda and Ellen decided to go over to FairyTale Fashions as soon as they finished their meal.
Despite his struggles, Tommy wasn't given a chance to flee as he dragged between his mother and grandmother as they headed for the entrance of FairyTale Fashions. Linda firmly held one hand of the recalcitrant boy while Ellen did likewise with the other. At times, they simply carried him as he tried to fall to the ground. Several customers, mothers and daughters, looked to see what the commotion was about as the crying boy was pulled inside the store.
Olivia and Stephanie swept down upon the struggling lad. You must be Ms Fritz and Mrs. Harris," Olivia greeted Linda and Ellen. "I'm Olivia Childress, the owner of FairyTale Fashions and this is my daughter, Stephanie."
"I'm pleased to meet you," Linda replied as she exerted herself to maintain control of Tommy. "I apologize for my son."
Stephanie promptly knelt on one knee before Tommy and took his flailing head firmly in her hands to stare unblinkingly into his eyes. "Tommy, I strongly suggest you settle down," Stephanie softly chided the crying lad as he continued his struggle. "You're attracting attention to yourself with your bad behavior. Do you want everyone here to know that you're here to be outfitted as a sweet little girl?"
Tommy's eyes grew wide with fear as he finally noticed the women and girls, some his age, intently watching him. Embarrassed by their blatant stares, he sagged helplessly in the grasp of his captors and began to cry.
"I understand how you feel," Stephanie cooed softly as she slipped her arms about Tommy's trembling body. "It is horrible at first when a boy discovers that he's going to be turned into a girl. I went through the same thing when I was ten."
Once in Stephanie's soft embrace, Tommy relaxed. "Y... you were a boy," Tommy sobbed incredulously as he looked into Stephanie's pretty compassionate face. "You're much to pretty to have ever been a boy."
Olivia signaled Linda and Ellen to release Tommy's hands. The women warily did so and following Olivia's signals, stepped away from Tommy and Stephanie.
"Thank you for the compliment," Stephanie replied as she pulled Tommy down to sit upon her other knee. "But you saw Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie. They don't look like they were ever boys. They look like pretty girls too. They didn't like being forced to become girls any more than you do. But as you noticed they're getting used to being girls in only one day. That's the way it works. I hated my first time in girl's clothes. Before that day, I was a rough and tumble boy. I played Little league baseball, and football, I played cops and robbers, army, climbed trees, and all that other by stuff. But once I wore a dress I changed. The longer I wore dresses, the more I changed. Now I can't imagine being a boy. In a few weeks Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie won't want to ever go back to being boys. The same will be true for you."
"No way," Tommy protested petulantly. "I'll never like being a sissy!
"Oh I thoroughly agree," Stephanie declared. "You're afraid of being a sissy. I'd hate being a sissy too. But you see, I'm not a sissy. I'm a girl. Just as Bobbi Jo, Allie, Jamie, and you will be girls. Everyone knows that girls can't be sissies. Only boys can be sissies. So you see, you're fighting something that doesn't exist. Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie are not boys dressed as girls. They are girls who just used to be boys. That's what will happen to you. Now, if you continue to make a fuss out here and attract all this attention, you'll be calling attention to a boy who's in a sissy situation. Now I know you don't want that. If you come with me into the back, we'll get you outfitted in private so that you'll look as much like a girl as any other girl. No one will think anything is out of the ordinary about you. You can't be a sissy if everyone thinks you're a girl, now can you?"
"You're getting me all confused," Tommy replied. "I'm a boy, not a girl. You can't just change a boy into a girl."
"Oh that's where you're wrong," Stephanie chuckled. "We do it all the time. You know you mother and grandmother are determined to force you to become a girl. Look, I'll make you a deal. Let's go into the back. In a dressing room with no one else present, I'll outfit you as a girl. Now you understand that you must cooperate with me for this to be a fair deal. When I'm done and before anyone else comes into the dressing room, you'll stand in front of the mirrors and look at yourself. If you can honestly say that you look like a boy dressed in girl's clothes and not like a prissy girl who has always worn dresses, I'll let you change into the clothes you're wearing now and sneak you out the back door. If you do look as if you've always been a prissy girl, you'll know that you weren't really much of a boy to begin with. You'll then have to cooperate with your mother and grandmother and become Tammy. Just remember, you won't be a sissy because only boys can be sissies. Do we have a deal?"
Tommy glanced about to see the customers had gone back to their shopping now that his temper tantrum show was over. His mother and grandmother were off to one side with Olivia quietly watching Stephanie and he. "I don't really have much choice, do I," Tommy asked.
"You can start making a fuss again," Stephanie explained. "In which case my mother will announce to all the customers that you are going to be transformed into a girl. Then everyone will look at you and think that you're a big sissy. You'll be taken to the dressing room and put in a dress, but nothing will be done with your hair to make you look like a girl. You'll look like a boy wearing a dress. Then you'll be brought back out here so everyone can see that you are a sissy. You have two choices, come with me and let me make you look like a real girl or resist and have everyone see that you really are a sissy. Now, will you accept my deal or not?"
Tommy sighed and lowered his head. "All right," he mumbled.
"Great," Stephanie exclaimed as she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before standing him on his feet. Then taking his hand she smiled at him. "Let's go. No one will notice where we're going if you behave."
Linda and Ellen watched in amazement as Stephanie coddled Tommy and spoke softly to him. They were really surprised when she stood and took his hand to lead him quietly into the back of the store and the dressing rooms.
"That was simply amazing," Linda declared. "I've never seen him calm down so quickly and be so cooperative. I'd love to know how she did it."
"Let's go to my office and watch," Olivia said. "Stephanie has a special touch with boys being Petticoated. You see, she knows exactly how they feel. Nine years ago she was my ten year old son."
"That lovely young lady was once a boy," Ellen asked in disbelief.
"Stephan was every bit as rowdy as Tommy," Olivia declared as they entered her office. "I understand you might be interested in transforming Tommy's father into a woman. Let me tell you about Dr. Cassandra Trate while we watch Tommy become Tammy."
Tommy nervously entered the dressing room and nervously looked about. It was a relief to get out of the store and the overt femininity it simply oozed. It made his boyish skin crawl to be surrounded in such prissy girlishness.
"I have to take some measurements so I can select proper sizes for you," Stephanie explained as she pulled out a cloth tape measure. "Now I'm going to lock you inside while I go to get what you'll need. This is to keep you from welching on our deal and to keep everyone else out. Now, while I'm gone, strip down to your jockey shorts and put your clothing in a locker. That way we'll be able to get you outfitted quicker so we can see what you look like. I know that's the last thing you want, but the sooner we do it, the sooner it's over too. Besides, if we take too long, my mother will check up on us and you won't have time to get away."
Stephanie left the room, closing the door with an ominous click. Olivia, Linda, and Ellen watched via the closed circuit monitor as Tommy first tried the door, then checked the room for another exit. Realizing he was locked inside and that Stephanie would be returning, he slowly began to remove his clothes. The women smiled as they continued to discuss Tommy Harris and his imminent release from prison.
Tommy grew nervous once he was down to is jockey shorts. Stephanie was nice, one of the nicest girls he'd ever met. She was also beautiful. It was almost impossible to believe she had ever been a rowdy boy. Yet she did seem to understand his fears about being dressed as a girl. Then there was Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie. They looked like real girls too, yet he knew they had been boys. Stephanie had said the problem was with being a sissy. Only boys could be sissies. That made sense. So if a boy was turned into a girl, he couldn't be a sissy. That made a weird sense too. Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie seemed to have become girls. They looked and behaved like girls. They certainly did not seem like guys. They seemed like prissy girls, not sissies, just as Stephanie said. Still, he didn't want to be dressed as a girl much less to become a girl.
His ruminations were interrupted when Stephanie returned with her arms full of girlish clothes. Tommy almost bolted for the door as he looked at the soft, ruffled and lacy clothes, but Stephanie was quick and closed the door before he could move.
"I have the door set to lock automatically when it closes," Stephanie explained as she looked the nervous boy squarely in the eye. "You made a deal with me to cooperate. I want your word of honor as a boy you will do as I tell you until I'm finished with your transformation."
"I promise on my honor as a boy to cooperate with you," Tommy replied in a frightened quavering voice as he uneasily eyed the feminine clothes Stephanie had brought in for him to wear.
"Good," Stephanie replied. "Just remember, it takes a strong man to keep his word. I know."
Tommy felt like a condemned man being left in the gas chamber as he watched the door close, but Stephanie had challenged his honor as a man to keep his promise. No adult had ever treated him as an equal much less like a man as Stephanie had done. With trembling resolve, he bravely faced his unwanted ordeal like a man.
"I'll turn my back while you take off your jockey shorts and put on the panties," Stephanie calmly informed Tommy as she handed him the soft pretty lace trimmed pink nylon panties.
To an outsider it would have appeared that having a boy remove his jockey shorts and put on a pair of panties was an every day occurrence. Of course, at FairyTale Fashions it was not really an unusual occurrence although Stephanie wished it happened more often than it did.
Tommy reluctantly accepted the panties like someone reaching for the business end of a rattlesnake. Fortunately the panties didn't bite, but Tommy almost wished he had received a venomous fatal snake bite instead as he repulsively grasped the soft silken panties between thumb and forefinger. With great foreboding he skimmed out of his familiar jockey shorts and gingerly stepped into the panties. More embarrassed by his nudity than by the thought of wearing the panties, he quickly tugged them into place about his slender juvenile hips.
Tommy was amazed by the differences between the panties and his jockey shorts. Wearing jockey shorts had always been simply a requirement that felt neither bad nor good. In truth, once on, Tommy seldom even noticed he was wearing underwear. But the panties were different. They seemed to teasingly hug his flesh and the tender caresses changed with even the slightest movement. The lace edging tickled his still hairless legs and the soft nylon seemed to massage his backside in a manner that seemed delightfully naughty. The sensations unnerved him and made him feel decidedly un-boy-like.
"Do you have them on,"Stephanie asked even though she'd been watching Tommy in the mirror. "We can't waste time or our mothers will come in to see what's taking so long.
"I have them on," Tommy confessed in an uncertain voice.
"They seem to fit you perfectly," Stephanie told the blushing boy as she pulled out a matching camisole. "They look as if they were made for you. Now let's slip this on."
Tommy shivered as she pulled the soft camisole over his head and settled it about his torso. The same delightful sensations he'd discovered the panties naughtily imparted were also created by the dainty camisole. This further disoriented the lad.
Before he could collect his wits, Stephanie had him sit on the bench as she deftly rolled a pair of pink nylon tights up his legs and snug them in place. The soft silky fabric made him tingle as it hugged and caressed every bit of the flesh on his nylon encased legs. The finishing touch came as Stephanie rolled a pair of dainty lace topped pink nylon anklets over his feet. Tommy almost wet himself as he saw how girlish his legs looked once Stephanie rolled down the lace tops of the anklets. She then helped him to his feet.
The confused boy shivered as he stood clad in the silky lace trimmed pink nylon panties, matching camisole, pink tights. and pink lace topped anklets. Tommy had little time to brood about this unwanted step towards girlishness as Stephanie slid a pink nylon slip edged in delicate lace over his heads and down his torso. The lace tickled his nylon clad thighs causing goosebumps and sending all too delightful sensations coursing through his body.
The totally bewildered lad allowed Stephanie to sit him on the bench in order to slip a cute pair of black patent leather Mary Jane shoes onto his now quite dainty feet. Stephanie showed him how to adjust the straps on his slip after she had buckled the ultra-girlish shoes firmly to his feet. Tears of humiliation and loss filled his eyes as he looked at his now all so girlish legs and feet. Tears filled his eyes as he realized there was no way his present dainty girlish legs and feet would carry him around the bases and across the football field.
Like Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie before him, poor Tommy was nearly overwhelmed with conflicting emotions of hatred, fear, anguish, and delight by the time Stephanie slipped a smaller version of the cotton pink and white gingham high waisted country girl style dress the others had worn over his head. Stephanie deftly slipped the brooding boy's arms through the full cut long sleeves before adjusting his slip and dress until they hung properly. Stephanie then adjusted the lace edged round neck opening until it too was properly situated.
Tommy numbly watched in disbelief as Stephanie adjusted the elastic lace edged cuffs so they fit properly at his wrists. While he knew the girlish hands that emerged from the sleeves were his, they no longer looked like the familiar boyish hands that had tossed a football with his buddies during the morning recess. Simply by changing out of his familiar boyish clothes into a prissy girl's dress he now seemed to magically possess girlish arms and hands.
Guiltily Tommy glanced at his emasculated image in the plentiful mirrors. There he was stunned to see his familiar still boyish head atop a girl's prissy body. With growing apprehension and uneasiness he noted that about an inch of the scalloped lace edged hem of the slip was visible beneath the full loose skirt which ended two inches above his now all so girlish knees. Looking intently at his tight clad girlish knees he wondered how they could be the same scruffy knees upon which he had knelt last night while playing with his Tonka trucks in the dirt pile behind their apartment.
Tommy's forlorn pondering was interrupted as Stephanie began to brush and style his sandy colored hair. As she began to work Tommy mentally kicked himself. Two years ago he discovered his mother detested long hair on boys when she inadvertently denounced a hippie type teenage boy for wearing his hair in a ponytail that reached to the middle of his back. Realizing it was a way to rebel, he'd steadfastly refused to have his hair cut since then. Now, because of his stubborn rebelliousness, his hair reached past his shoulders. Angered by his stupidity Tommy had no choice but to allow Stephanie to brush a section of hair foreword over his face before quickly trimming bangs even with his eyebrows. The remaining hair was parted down the middle, pulled back and brushed until it shown. Then to Tommy's utter dismay, Stephanie gathered his long tresses together, divided each side into three plaits, and began to weave little girl braids. The matching prissy braids dangled down to kiss his shoulder where the plaited ends were secured in place by strips of pink and white gingham cloth tied into cute bows.
As he looked down at the ends of his twin braids and their ultra girlish pink and white gingham bows, Tommy couldn't believe his scraggly long rebellious hair had been so thoroughly effeminized. Before Tommy could assimilate the latest assault on his much prized but quite shattered boyhood, Stephanie began to file his fingernails. Then she deftly applied a bright glossy pink polish. As the final act of Tommy's unwanted transformation from a rowdy boy into a prissy girl, Stephanie applied a soft pink gloss to his lips.
"All right, I'm done," Stephanie told Tommy as she stepped back with a self-satisfied grin while blocking Tommy's view of himself in the mirrors. "Remember our deal. If you can honestly say that you look like a boy dressed in girl's clothes and not like a prissy girl who has always worn dresses, I'll let you change into the clothes you were wearing when you came in and sneak you out the back door. If you do look as if you've always been a prissy girl, you'll know that you weren't really much of a boy to begin with. That will mean that you'll have to cooperate with your mother and grandmother and become Tammy. Just remember, you won't be a sissy because only boys can be sissies. I'll be honest with you. Being a boy was just a huge mistake. You really should have been born a girl. You ARE Tammy. Now take a good look at yourself." With that, Stephanie stepped to one side so Tommy could see his reflection.
Where earlier he had glimpsed his familiar boyish head atop a prissy girl's body, Tommy now saw only a timid prissy girl. The erstwhile bully examined his transformed reflection in the multitude of mirrors. What he saw frightened him. No longer did he appear to be the ragamuffin eight year old boy he were accustomed to seeing. Now he saw only a prissy girl who looked as if she should be clutching a baby doll and having a pretend tea party. There was not even the slightest trace to hint that the cute little girl had ever been anything except a prissy girl. Tommy realized that according to the deal he'd made with Stephanie, he was indeed irrevocably losing his boyhood. The shocked boy now understood how Bobbi Jo had been so easily transformed into the cute girl he had encountered earlier. The same thing had just happened to him!
What really made it worse was that Tommy certainly didn't even feel like a boy as he looked at his all too girlish reflection. The feminized lad could feel his panties sensuously caressing the tucked away insignificant manhood that was the sole remaining sign that the cute little girl he saw in the mirrors was not the girl she seemed to be. The lace on the hem of his slip enticingly tickled his nylon clad thighs at his slightest movement. The way his skirts saucily swirled about him as he moved crushed what remained of his boyish machismo. Tommy discovered that it was impossible for him to feel even slightly masculine while dressed as the pretty little girl he now beheld in the mirrors.
Any lingering resistance to his feminization collapsed when Linda and Ellen entered the room moments later as Tommy was still drinking in the sight of his prissy girlishness. The tearily joyful women swept the demure prissy lass they beheld off her feet and smothered her with hugs and kisses. Tommy was unable to deny the complete girlishness that seemed to engulf him as he was subjected to the girlish praises lavished upon his reeling mind. Stephanie's words that only boys could be sissies rang true and clear in his ears. There was no way the cute little girl Stephanie had created out of Tommy could be considered a sissy boy. Then he remembered Stephanie tell him that his being a boy had been a mistake and that he should have been born a girl. Tommy felt his boyhood being swamped by the irresistible tsunami of delightful girlishness. To Tommy it seemed impossible to maintain a boyish self image. He had become Tammy, a prissy little girl, but that wasn't bad. Just like Bobbi Jo, Allie, and Jamie, sweet little Tammy seemed to be totally and naturally feminine. Unable to stem the flow of girlishness, Tommy was swept away on a one way flood into girlhood. The boy was lost, drowned by the torrent of frills. A shy, timid little girl emerged from the ravaged flood waters of prissy girlhood. Tammy placed her delicate hands into the now empowered hands of her mother and grandmother.
Linda and Ellen took Tammy out into the main store of FairyTale Fashions to select a suitable wardrobe for the quiet new girl. Tammy's reticence was quickly overwhelmed as she was submerged in little girl fluff. Satin and lace, ribbons and bows would be her trademark.
Ellen took Linda and Tammy back to her home where they placed Tammy's new wardrobe in a spare bedroom. Linda was given another bedroom to be her own. Plans were made for Linda and Tammy to move in that very day.
Just then a warm gust of wind blew through the still open window carrying a myriad of tiny dust particles. The dust swirled like a tornado above the candle and slowly formed a vaguely gentle grandmotherly human form. One by one tiny specks of dust dropped into the flickering candle flame, each making an audible pop. As the embracing pair watched, the dusty form seemed to smile as the popping of the dust linked together to form words.
"Leprechaun O'Shea you've been a trying dish;
I'll be delighted to honor this last wish.
With Heather's transformation wish to comply;
all we need do is get the oak to reply.
To work the boy to girl spell we must rewrite;
said in this manner soon boyhood will take flight.
Ancient druid oak tree, this wish if I may;
change (the chosen male's name) to a girl I say;
cast the transformation spell without delay;
let nature a suitable course chart the way;
let magic make him a girl, begin today!
A proper wish will be granted without fuss;
the ether, for the oak tree, will respond thus.
By your wish (your name). druidic power hired;
let (the chosen male's name) a girl be rewired;
To stay a boy he is no longer desired;
so nature, let this lad from boyhood be fired;
soon as a girl he'll be happily attired!
Now for the former Patrick Seamus O'Shea;
listen quite closely to what I have to say.
As of now you are a Leprechaun no more;
an envelope is in the center desk drawer;
It’s papers of your humanity does say;
you are now a girl, Patti Sherry O'Shea
An Irish lass of fourteen is now your fate;
Your human birthday is on this very date.
In mirrors a cute freckled face you will see;
a classmate of Heather Reilly you will be.
Now bother me no more with your sordid past;
your life as a happy human girl is cast!"
As the strange popping voice fell silent, Patti stood and in a trance-like state walked into the swirling dust. With that the dusty swirling image dissipated back into a tornado like vortex that engulfed and obscured Patti. As Erin watched in disbelief, the opaque Patti seemed to be growing and becoming clearer. It took a few moments until Erin realized the dust was incorporating itself into Patti's body to make her grow from a normal sized Leprechaun to the size of fourteen year old girl.
When the dust finally disappeared, Patti stood swaying slightly on her feet. The pointed ears were gone as were all other traces of her past existence as a Leprechaun. Now she stood at five feet one inches tall and weighed in at about ninety-five pounds. Her clothing had also grown to accommodate her larger size. The green tunic mini dress had become a knit mini dress that now hugged every curve of her body and just barely covered her nicely rounded buttocks. The short dress accentuated her wide girlish hips and trim narrow waist. The snug fabric completely revealed her perky 'A' sized breasts. The green leggings had become thick tights that revealed every curve of her exquisitely shapely legs. The brown soft leather moccasins had been transformed into black leather single strap Mary Jane shoes. Patti's thick straight red hair was pulled behind her cute triple pierced ears by a wide green elastic band. The luxurious tresses cascaded across her shoulders and down her back until reaching her waist. Softly curled bangs covered her forehead and whispered against girlishly thin delicate reddish eyebrows. Big green eyes sparkled like emeralds below the bangs to give her a wide-eyed innocent yet mischievous look. A light but visible sprinkle of freckles emerged from her rosy cheeks to meet on her cute upturned button nose. Sensuous lips formed a perfect cupid's bow mouth that seemed to beg to be kissed. Few boys and not many men would be able to tear their lust filled eyes from Patti's innate seductive teenage girlishness.
"Patti, are you all right," Erin asked the dazed girl as she quickly stepped to her and grasped her shoulders.
"I think so," Patti replied in a musical soprano voice that had an appealing Irish accent as she gave a bewildered look at Erin. "I'm a human now. A girl... a teenage girl... am I u... ugly?"
"You're a human teenage girl all right," Erin laughed as she hugged the trembling girl to her ample bosom. "As far as being ugly, well, girl, I think we'll have our hands quite full keeping the boys away from you."
"Oh," Patti gasped as she gazed down at her piquant breasts while running her hands down her sides to feel her soft girlish curves. "Can I see myself?"
"Of course, my pretty niece," Erin laughed as she escorted the teenage girl to a full length mirror in another room.
Patti stopped cold upon seeing her girlish reflection. She had become the embodiment of the perfect winsome Irish lass. A shiver swept through her body. She knew Erin had been right about having her hands full fending off boys. This pleased her and made her quite anxious. One part of her wanted to be a cute girl while the lingering macho past wanted no parts of being attractive to boys. Of course, without testosterone to reinforce the fading machismo, the new girlish part quickly suppressed the stubborn macho art. A timid smile filled her face as she gazed at her new reflection. With girlish giggles she struck several poses, some quite seductive and provocative.
"As my niece I expect you to keep such posing confined to your bedroom, young lady," Erin stated sternly while smiling.
"Yes Aunt Erin," Patti replied sheepishly. "I guess I got carried away. This is all so new and nice! I don't know how I can ever thank you!" With that she through her arms about Erin's neck and gave her a fierce hug. Tears of joy filled her green eyes.
"You just gave me the best thank you possible," Erin replied as tears of joy trickled down her cheeks. "Now, before we begin balling our eyes out, I think we'd better check out that envelope in my center desk drawer."
The duo returned to Erin's office and retrieved the envelope. It was a thick manila and jammed with papers. It was addressed to Erin Murphy, Mother Superior of St. Patrick's Convent. The return address was from the Department of Welfare in County Cork, Ireland. Inside was a birth certificate for Patti Sherry O'Shea indicating that today was her fourteenth birthday. A smaller envelope held her immunization records and medical history. A small portfolio contained school records indicating that Patti was an above average student. There was a pair of death certificates for Patrick O'Shea Jr. and Eleanor O’Connell O'Shea who had been listed on the Patti's birth certificate as her parents. They had been killed in a car wreck shortly after Patti's birth. There was also a check for $250,000.00, the cash after liquidating the estate of her deceased grandmother, Mary Murphy O'Shea, who had been raising her. Much to Erin's surprise, Patti's grandmother was Erin's mother! Erin knew her mother had married an Irish lumberman named Patrick O'Shea shortly after Erin's unwanted sex-change and that they had returned to County Cork, Ireland where they had a son. The only communication Erin had with her mother after the birth of a son was yearly birthday and Christmas card exchanges. This meant that Patti Sherry O'Shea was indeed Erin's niece! Patti and Erin cried and hugged as they now knew the magic had made them relatives.
Once they regained their composure, it was quite late and they decided to turn in for the night. Patti stepped toward her small carpet bags to take them to he new bedroom. Instead of the two battered carpet bags, there were now five large leather suitcases. Smiling, they took them to Patti's bedroom and unpacked a small but complete wardrobe that was decidedly feminine and of high quality. Included were several old-fashioned dresses that required petticoats. Tucked away were several quaint artifacts, souvenirs of life in rural Ireland. In reality these items were the meaningful mementos Patti had brought with her from her past Leprechaun life.
Once everything was unpacked, Patti relaxed in a warm, soothing lilac scented bubble bath. Submerged beneath the lilac colored foam, she used the occasion to thoroughly explore her new found femininity. Patti discovered the experience quite pleasing and better than what she'd grown accustomed to as a male. After drying off with a fluffy towel, she hesitated for a moment as she looked at the panties awaiting her. This was the first item of girlish clothes she would be voluntarily putting on and her lingering machismo wanted to rebel, but she was determined to go on with her new life as a human girl. Taking a deep breath to steel her determination, she picked up the wispy garment and quickly slipped into the silky pink nylon bikini panties edged with delicate white lace. The pretty panties fit snugly about her pert bottom and made her feel deliciously and naughtily sexy. She showed no sign of hesitation as she slipped into the matching babydoll nightie. The delicate lace trim teasingly tickled her upper thighs.
Once she was dressed, she headed to her bedroom where Erin waited. The older woman spent half an hour brushing Patti's gorgeous hair. By then both were quite exhausted. After Erin tucked her into bed, Patti smiled as she reflected upon her new life. She knew she was going to enjoy luxurious bubble baths. It was quite a change from washing out of a bucket or bathing in a stream. She also knew she was going to love her silky lace trimmed clothes which were quite a departure from her coarse homespun Leprechaun clothing. Lastly, she knew she would enjoy her new body. After nearly 450 years of lusting after nubile cute girls, she had the body she'd always dreamed about, even if it wasn't in quite the same manner she'd wanted it back then. Patti fell asleep with a smile upon her face.
In the morning Patti bounced out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She seemed to instinctively know the morning ritual of bathing, brushing teeth, brushing hair, and taking care of nature's callings. By the time she returned to her bedroom, Aunt Erin had already been there and had laid out a complete St. Patrick's Parochial School uniform. With a smile filling her freckled face, Patti dressed quickly and stood proudly before the mirror looking at her adorable schoolgirl reflection as she assumed various poses. The new girl simply loved her school uniform.
Hidden from view but clinging sensually to her budding teenage girlishness was a pair of virginal white silken nylon panties edged with lace and a matching bra. The uniform itself consisted of a just above the knee pleated bib fronted skirt made of Kelly green and red plaid light weight cotton. About an inch of delicate lace-trimmed hem of the crinoline petticoat was revealed beneath the skirt as it fluffed the hem skirt out three inches from the legs. A rear buttoning white cotton blouse featured a lace edged Peter Pan collar. The fluffy long sleeves ended in lace edged elastic cuffs. The bib front of the skirt was just wide enough to demurely cover the front of her breasts while still offering a glimpse of the perky feminine mounds from the sides. The lace bottom edge of the Peter Pan collar just covered the top of the bib. The straps of the bib front traveled under the collar and crossed in back before buttoning to the rear waistband of the rear zippered skirt. White cable knit cotton kneesox added greatly to an air of girlish innocence. White and red leather saddle shoes adorned her feet. A Kelly green satin ribbon tied her hair red hair back into a high, bouncy ponytail while softly curled bangs whispered against her eyebrows. A leather red and white shoulder purse and white and red leather saddle shoes completed the outfit.
Heather and Leslie sat in their seats in home room giggling about the way the boys in the class were trying to ogle them without looking obvious. Heather had just finished telling Leslie how less that two weeks ago Heath had done the same thing to the girls in his classes. The class fell silent as Mother Superior Murphy entered the room followed by a timidly smiling pretty red-haired freckled girl. The boys all shifted uncomfortably in their seats as they sought to nonchalantly alleviate the sudden tightness inside their underwear. All the girls in the class, including Heather and Leslie, immediately envied the girl's luxurious straight waist length tresses. Heather looked at the girl's face and noticed her sparkling green eyes that belied an underlying mischievousness that looked all too familiar.
"Class, I'd like to introduce another new student," Mother Superior Murphy announced with a proud smile. "This young lady is my niece who has come to live with me due to several unfortunate deaths in our family. I am her only living relative and thus have become her guardian. Not only is she new to this school, she's new to the ways of this country having been born and raised in Ireland. I fully expect each of you to treat her with kindness and to help her adjust to life as an American schoolgirl."
As the principal spoke Heather's eyes grew wide as she saw the new girl look directly at her and demurely blush. There was definitely something familiar about this girl. But if she just arrived from Ireland there was no way she could have ever met her before. Then an incongruous thought hit her. Mother Superior Murphy had said the girl had been born and raised in Ireland and was new to the ways of this country... that didn't necessarily mean she had just come from Ireland! Heather's heart began to beat rapidly as she peered intently into the new girl's eyes. She had seen those eyes before! They were the impish eyes of Patrick Seamus O'Shea, the Leprechaun! Heather had used her wish spell to change him into a female Leprechaun, Patti Sherry O'Shea. Somehow she had become a human girl!
"Class, I'd like to introduce Miss Patti Sherry O'Shea," Mother Superior Murphy announced. "Leslie, since you're already showing Heather around, would you mind assisting Patti in getting to know her way around?"
"I'm not sure I could do a satisfactory job with my responsibilities with Heather," Leslie explained. She was a bit put out by the intrusion of this new girl and the burden showing her about would entail.
"Oh I don't think it'd be a problem at all," Heather declared enthusiastically now that she knew her suspicions about the new girl were correct. "I think the three of us will become best friends!"
Patti broke into a tremendous grin and winked at Heather. Leslie noted the wink and gave Heather a look to see if she was tripping out on something. One look at Heather's face though, and she knew there was more to this than met the eye. Looking back at Patti, Leslie realized that the new girl was obviously in on the secret as well. A quick glance at Mother Superior Murphy's smug countenance confirmed in Leslie's mind that there was some sort of conspiracy at work.
"All right, I'll show Patti around too," Leslie declared with a fatalistic smile.
"Excellent," Mother Superior Murphy declared. "Miss Green, if you would be so kind as to rearrange the seating once more to allow Patti to join Leslie and Heather I'd greatly appreciate it."
The class and Miss Green knew there was something afoot between Heather and Patti but no one had the slightest idea what it my be. Most assumed Heather had been briefed yesterday. The seats were switched and Patti sat between Leslie and Heather. Patti and Heather could hardly concentrate on their lessons as they giggled every time they looked at each other. Leslie was overwhelmed by curiosity about the relationship these two had and became determined to discover their connection. When the lunch bell rang, Leslie leaned over to tell Heather they had better discuss what was going on, but before she could utter a word Heather leaned over and spoke.
"Let's get our coats and go outside for a walk," Heather enthused. "Do I have a secret to tell you! Come on, Patti,"
Leslie had to scurry to keep up with the two girls as they headed for their lockers to retrieve their coats. Several other girls had hoped to join Patti for lunch but were unprepared for their quick escape to the outdoors. Thus, Heather, Patti, and Leslie were soon outside alone on a sunny November afternoon.
As the three girls walked across the lawn to the tree line and the bench where Heather had talked with Erin the day before Heather refused to speak until they were sure there was no one else around. Patti merely smiled and followed. Leslie was growing increasingly curious about the mystery. When they reached the bench, Patti sat between the others.
"Now will you PLEASE tell me what's going on," Leslie demanded sternly.
"Of course, but first you must promise not to tell anyone other than Mother Superior Murphy," Heather declared.
"I promise but this better be a good secret," Leslie replied.
"It's worth the promise," Patti replied with a giggle. "But I must know if you can be trusted to keep your word."
"Of all the..." Leslie sputtered.
"You can trust Leslie," Heather interrupted. "She's one of us."
"One of us," Patti asked obviously confused.
"Yes, she was born a boy like us," Heather explained. "Her mother changed her into a girl. Leslie never really lived as a boy."
"Heather," Leslie scolded with obvious hurt.
"It'll be all right, you'll see," Heather soothed Leslie's ruffled feathers. "Do you remember my birthday wish at the restaurant?"
"Sure," Leslie replied baffled about where this weird conversation was leading. "You wished that stupid Leprechaun would show himself to Mother Superior Murphy and give you the power to wish boys into girls."
"He was NOT a stupid Leprechaun," Patti declared indignantly. "He may have been nasty, but he wasn't stupid."
Leslie looked askance at Patti. It was obvious the girl was upset. Leslie had no idea why a girl would so vehemently defend a fairytale character. It had to be the fact she was Irish.
"Leslie, please be a little kinder when you talk about Leprechauns," Heather gently admonished. "Relax Patti, Leslie doesn't understand yet."
“Leslie," Heather began once Patti settled down. "Yesterday Mother Superior Murphy and I sat here and I told her about my wish. She thought it was good and hoped it would come true. You see, she was once a boy who caught the same Leprechaun I did. She got turned into a girl just like me."
Leslie looked at Heather as if she was totally wacky. She was about to say so when she noted Patti eyeing her critically. A strange foreboding began to well up inside of her as she bit back her sarcastic retort.
"You said you hoped the wish worked, and it did," Heather explained. "The Leprechaun appeared to us and confirmed that he had changed both of us into girls. Then he gave us a spell to use to turn boys into girls. As he was turning to leave, I cast the spell on him. He fell to the ground and screamed. He begged me to take the spell back but I refused. He had no choice but to cast the spell on himself. After he was done, he turned and ran away but even as he did, we could see he was already changing into a girl."
"I don't see what that has to do with Patti," Leslie stated in obvious confusion as she looked at her companions. It was obvious that Patti knew all about what Heather was saying. Perhaps Mother Superior Murphy had told her niece.
"Do you remember when I told you about my encounter with the Leprechaun," Heather continued. "Do you remember that his name was Patrick Seamus O'Shea?"
"Yeah," Leslie replied. "But what has that to... Patrick Seamus O’Shea... Patti Sherry O'Shea... oh no! You're not trying to tell me Patti was the Leprechaun!"
"Yes I am." Heather declared with a smile of satisfaction. "What I don't know is how she became Mother Superior Murphy's niece."
"After I ran away from you the change was completed before I made it back to my den," Patti picked up the story as she went on to relate all that had transpired up to the point where she and her new aunt arrived in their classroom this morning.
"Do you two really expect me to believe this crazy story," Leslie asked.
"You wanted to know what was going on," Heather replied. "We told you."
"So you can still cast spells to turn boys into girls using that old oak tree," Leslie asked in disbelief as she gazed at the massive oak.
"That she can," Patti declared. "If she uses the correct rhyme."
"Well, prove it then," Leslie declared.
"Any spell Heather casts will take time," Patti explained. "Nature has to be subtle in making the changes, just as she did with Heather. Since no one knew about me, the changes could happen right away. Normally, everything takes time so nature's balances won't be upset. Magic needs to be kept secret or people panic. Remember when they used to burn witches?"
"Besides," Heather rejoined. "Any boy I cast the spell upon has to be unhappy and inhibited. I have to know his name."
"Well just pick a boy from our class," Leslie declared as a challenge.
"I don't know them well enough yet," Heather replied. "Magic is powerful and must be used wisely. I just can't go around changing boys into girls."
"I can see your point," Leslie pouted. "But I think you're pulling my leg with this entire fairy tale."
"We're not," Heather declared. "It's all the truth,"
The three girls sat quietly for a few moments as the assimilated their discussion. The Leslie perked up.
"I know two boys who you could wish to become girls," Leslie announced smugly.
"Who," Heather asked hopefully.
"Those two nasty boys who saw the wind flip your skirt," Leslie giggled. "When their mother brought them over to apologize, it was quite obvious they were unhappy inhibited boys. Wouldn't they do?"
"Yes, they would be perfect," Heather declared feeling her breasts flush with the desire for revenge. "I'll do it!"
With that Heather stood and faced the ancient oak tree. Raising her hands skyward she began to chant:
"Ancient druid oak tree, this wish if I may;
change that rude James Henry to a girl I say;
cast the transformation spell without delay;
let nature a suitable course chart the way;
let magic make him a girl, begin today!"
Patti shivered with remembered terror from yesterday when Heather had chanted that spell using her then male name. Leslie just sat there watching. She still thought the entire Leprechaun thing was merely a joke. Yet Heather and Patti were taking things way too seriously. A chill of uncertainty and terror swept through her as a brisk wind suddenly swept through the trees behind them.
The wind seemed quite distinct and centered, not like a normal wind that blows fairly evenly over a broad area. The concentrated breeze swept into the leafless old oak tree causing the mistletoe to sway with the branches. The unearthly rustling and creaking melded into a hoarse whispering voice:
"By your wish Heather. druidic power hired;
let that rude James Henry a girl be rewired;
To stay a boy he is no longer desired;
so nature, let this lad from boyhood be fired;
soon as a girl he'll be happily attired!"
As abruptly as the wind began, it ceased. Silence once more prevailed.
"I... I didn't hear that," Leslie whispered in wide eyed fear. "I didn't hear that tree answer you... did I?"
"That you most certainly did," Patti chuckled in her lilting Irish accent. Heather cast a spell and the tree confirmed it would be done."
"But... but then... that means...," Leslie stuttered as she looked askance at the pretty Irish colleen sitting demurely beside her.
"It's like Heather and I told you, Leslie," Patti declared. "Until yesterday when Heather used that same wish on me, I was a nasty old male Leprechaun."
"Heather...," Leslie asked with growing fear.
"I told you I wasn't making up the story about the Leprechaun," Heather replied smugly.
"This has to be some sort of coincidence," Leslie answered. "This can't really be happening."
"Heather, I think Leslie needs another demonstration," Patti chuckled mischievously. "Didn't you say there were two boys who teased you?"
"Yes, James henry was the younger brother," Heather answered. "Now it's Alec Henry's turn. Are you ready, Leslie?"
Leslie swallowed her nervousness and meekly nodded her head as she looked about. Heather once more raised her hands and began to chant:
"Ancient druid oak tree, this wish if I may;
change that rude Alec Henry to a girl I say;
cast the transformation spell without delay;
let nature a suitable course chart the way;
let magic make him a girl, begin today!"
Once more a concentrated wind swept into the ancient oak tree. In moments the tree was once more speaking:
"By your wish Heather, druidic power hired;
let that rude Alec Henry a girl be rewired;
To stay a boy he is no longer desired;
so nature, let this lad from boyhood be fired;
soon as a girl he'll be happily attired!"
Leslie gaped a heather and Patti. "This is just too weird," she finally declared. "No one would ever believe this."
"My aunt Erin would believe it," Patti giggled mischievously.
Just then the bell rang signaling the end of lunch. The three girls had to run across the lawn to make it back to their class on time. With skirts swirling, the three fourteen-year-old girls scurried to the school.
Grace Henry sat in her study looking out onto the grounds of her estate. She loved her new life, nearly everything was perfect. The only imperfection was her husband and sons. They simply had not adapted to a life of wealth. They sure wanted to spend money, or rather waste it, on the paltry trash that had seemed so good when they'd been poor. They never adjusted their taste or their manners. She felt herself grow angry as she recalled the unpleasant incident outside the restaurant. She'd been totally embarrassed by the cretin-like behavior of her sons and husband. The flush of anger made her decide to step outside for a breath of air. The sun was warm and the air cool and crisp but comfortable as she strolled into the ornate lawn garden. Those delightfully charming girls, Heather and Leslie, had appeared to be the epitome of upper class old-fashioned girlishness. This brought back the long suppressed longing that she might have had a sweet daughter. But after the birth of James, she had to have a hysterectomy, so a daughter was not to be a part of her life.
With a sigh of heartache, she thought ahead to this Saturday when she and the boys would join the Balkuts for a formal tea. She really looked forward to the event and tried to imagine Heather and Leslie in fancy petticoated Victorian tea dresses. She'd have to call Hillary Balkut and ask her if they would be expected to dress in Victorian style. If so, she would have to find a couple of Lord Fauntleroy outfits for her sons. She could just imagine their horror at the prospect of wearing such sissy outfits. They would be even more horrified to o out in public dressed in such a sissy manner. Their embarrassment to appear before Heather and Leslie would more than make up for the hurt they gave poor Heather.
A chuckle came to her lips as she recalled how the boys had cowered before Heather's suggestion that they would respect girls more if they spent some time in dresses. Their faces had turned ashen when she replied that it might be a good idea. While she had not mentioned the idea since then, it was obvious by the boys' nearly perfect behavior since then that they were totally cowed by the mere idea. She wondered how their behavior would improve if she actually did put them in dresses. They would look so ridiculous and be so humiliated.
Just then a wind sprang up out of no where and swirled about her like a miniature cyclone for ten seconds before dissipating as quickly as it had formed. For a few seconds she was disoriented and shaken. As she shook her head to clear the confusion, the desire to put the boys into dresses suddenly increased. She recalled a few talk shows where they'd discussed transsexuals. Perhaps she could have a daughter or two. The only drawback was that the transsexuals had all voluntarily wanted to become women. There was no way you could force someone to change their sex against their will. Or was there? Money could accomplish a lot.
As she returned to the house, she was determined to call Hillary and find out what expected attire would be. She'd sound her out about the Lord Fauntleroy outfits first, then maybe dresses for her nasty boys. Her heart was beating rapidly with growing excitement as she dialed the phone. Her elation was short lived when the phone was answered.
"Balkut Engineering, how may I direct your call," an operator answered.
"Ah... I was calling for Ms Hillary Balkut," Grace replied unsteadily. She knew Balkut Engineering was one of the largest and best-known firms in the area. "She gave me this number."
"May I tell her who's calling," the operator asked.
"Oh... yes... please forgive me... I was caught of guard by this being a business number," Grace explained. "My name is Grace Henry."
"Thank you," the operator replied. "I understand how confusing such a thing can be. You're not the first person to be a bit confused since Ms Balkut took over the firm. We've had quite a few changes in the last few months. Please hold while I see if Ms Balkut is in."
Grace nervously waited about thirty seconds before the line reactivated. Obviously Hillary was the president of Balkut Engineering. Her opinion of Hillary rose.
"Grace, it's so good to hear from you," Hillary stated firmly in a friendly tone. "I was hoping you'd call. Unfortunately I'm right in the middle of a contract negotiation so I must be brief. Would it be possible for us to meet for lunch tomorrow, say about 11:30 at Guido's? I'll put it on my expense account as a business lunch."
"Why yes, that sounds marvelous," Grace replied amazed at the take-charge manner Hillary displayed. "I'm looking forward to discussing Saturday with you."
"I was hoping you would," Hillary replied. "I'll see you then."
Grace hung up the phone and sank in her chair. Six months was still not enough time to give her the self-confidence she needed to be an assertive career woman. Her musings were interrupted by Richard who stood meekly in the door.
"Yes Richard, what is it now," Grace intoned in a most condescending tone.
"Darling, I'd like to discuss our finances with you," Richard began.
"I've told you before WE have no finances," Grace declared. "I have finances, you have finances. My finances are just fine and have no need of your input. Your finances are probably nonexistent by now, but that's because you stupidly quit your job."
"I know," Richard replied wearily having heard the routine dozens of times. "I didn't come to ask you for money, well, I guess I did, but I don't want you to give it to me. I'd like to borrow enough money to fill the car with gas so I can go out and look for work."
"Well, well, well," Grace intoned happily. "So Mr. Big has finally seen the error of his ways. If I loan you the money, what will you put up as security? You've squandered your share of everything we had."
"Ah, I don't have anything to put up," Richard replied sheepishly. "Couldn't you just trust me? After all, I am your husband."
"Don't remind me," Grace declared with disgust. "I thought I could trust you when I went away to those classes to learn how to handle this estate. You threw everything you had right out the window. You had such a promising career, but you blew it. You took me for granted all those years. You used me. You abused me. How am I supposed to trust you?"
"I don't know," Richard replied sadly. It cut right to his heart to know that she was right. "I'm sorry. I'll walk into town and see what work I can find." With that he turned to leave the room.
"That's probably the stupidest idea you've ever had," Grace sighed. "Get back in here. I won't have you shaming me by walking all over town looking for a job like some hobo. I've been waiting for you to come to your senses but I suppose that's expecting too much. However, I have prepared for something like this. There is something you can give me for security."
"What's that," Richard asked timidly.
"Your signature on this paper," she declared as she drew a legal form from a desk drawer and passed it to him.
Richard took the paper and slowly read it. His eyes grew wide as he looked from the paper back to Grace and back to the paper. "You're joking, right," he asked fearing the answer.
"I'm dead serious," Grace replied.
"But this is ridiculous," Richard blustered. "No one in his right mind signs away his rights."
"Unless that someone is destitute," Grace replied firmly. "That paper grants me power of attorney for one year. That's the security I demand to give you not only money for gas, but also for a new wardrobe. If you haven't noticed, the clothes you're wearing are becoming rather ragged."
"I won't do it," Richard declared angrily. "I'll find a job on my own first."
"If you walk out that door, don't bother coming back," Grace declared as she gave her wilting husband a steely stare. "If you want to stay with me and the boys, you'll do as I say and sign this paper. I'm sure you remember meeting Hillary Balkut on Sunday. I'm meeting her for lunch tomorrow. In addition to being the mother of Leslie and the guardian of Heather, she's the President of Balkut Engineering I can check with her about the possibility of finding some work for you. But only if you sign."
Richard shook with rage and helplessness. All the cards were in Grace's hands. He had nothing but worn out clothes and a beat-up old car. If he left, Grace would see to it that he never saw the boys again. Yet how could he sign away his life?
"You asked me to trust you," Grace reminded him. "I'm willing to do that if you sign. I'll put my reputation on the line to see that you get a respectable job. Are you willing to trust me? You were when we married. Show me you still love me."
Richard knew when he was whipped. Reluctantly he took the paper and signed it. Grace now had complete power of attorney over him for the next year. "Now what," he asked as he handed her the completed form. The defeat and resignation he felt was clearly evident in his tone of voice and his stance.
"You need to get back into shape if you intend to make a favorable impression," Grace stated as she took the form. A feeling of raw power filled her. It wasn't that she intended to do anything with the power of attorney, but it was symbolic of her total mastery over her formerly domineering husband. Never again would he take her for granted. "I suggest you spend the next few days getting the kinks out of your body. In the meantime, I'll see if I can arrange an interview."
The moment they saw him after returning from school, Alec and James knew something had happened to crush their father. The man was sweated from working out, sullen, and quiet. They wisely left him alone to brood in his own mire. They had enough to worry about. The moment they had arrived home from school, their mother had informed them she was meeting with Hillary Balkut for lunch to discuss the details of the Victorian Tea on Saturday. Even though the girls were undeniably cute and seeing them again would be good for their libido, neither boy wanted to think about meeting with sassy Heather and her friend Leslie.
Grace gave Hillary a warm hug as they met in the lobby of Guido's. "I hope you don't mind," Hillary stated. "But I invited a very close friend of mine who has quite a bit f experience dealing with crude young men. I'd like to introduce Dr. Cassandra Trate."
The women exchanged polite handshakes. Grace had heard about Dr. Trate. Her skill as a plastic surgeon, endocrinologist, and hypnotheraptist was well known in their small town. In moments the three women were seated at a secluded table. Although the conversation was strained at first, Grace began to loosen up as the other two were quite open and frank. It didn't take long for Grace to give a concise synopsis of her meager past and promising future. Finally the conversation turned to the formal tea,
"I was thinking of decking my boys out in fancy sissy Lord Fauntleroy outfits," Grace finally committed herself. "That is if your girls are going to be wearing Victorian style dresses."
"Of course they will," Hillary agreed. "But I think your boys will simply hate outfits like that. Don't you think you'll have a bit of trouble getting them dressed?"
"Of course," Grace chuckled. "But if I give them a choice of wearing the Lord Fauntleroy outfits or of following Heather's suggestion that they wear dresses, I'm pretty sure they'll wear the sissy outfits."
"That sounds to me as if you wish they'd chose the dresses," Cass declared as she and Hillary exchanged knowing looks.
"Well, in a way I guess I would," Grace conceded sheepishly. "It's just that, well, I've always wanted a sweet daughter and seeing Heather and Leslie has really brought those feelings out. Please don't think I'm some sort of weirdo or something. I'd really never do something like that to the boys."
"Why not," Cass asked simply. "You wouldn't be the first mother to put her son in dresses. Why I have assisted dozens of women in doing just that thing."
"You're joking, right," Grace asked in shock.
"No, she's not," Hillary replied with a warm smile. "It's our society which frowns upon such activity. But it really is better for some boys to become girls. I can tell you'd love to have two sweet adorable daughters instead of two bratty boys. I can't blame you. I fully understand how you feel, but there is no reason to feel guilty abut your desire or even fulfilling your desire. You see, Leslie and Heather were both born male. I raised Leslie as a girl from the time she was born. Heather has only been a girl for a week and a half. In fact, we were just bringing her home from the hospital after her reassignment surgery when we met. Her birthday celebration was the birth of her girlhood."
"I can't believe that," Grace declared. "Why there is simply no way Heather could have been a boy just a week before I met her! As for Leslie, well, she is simply all girl."
"Oh it's quite true," Cass affirmed. "My treatments are quite thorough and highly effective. There is absolutely no physical trace of male left in any of the males I've transformed into girls. I can tell you're obviously interested in learning more. After we've finished eating, why don't we go back to my office. I can show you some before and after photos. I'd also like you to meet my receptionist."
During the rest of the meal, Cass and Hillary continued praising the merits of raising sweet daughters versus the detriments and headaches of raising crude sons. Grace could do nothing but agree with their concise analysis of testosterone driven machismo and the ensuing problems. The more they talked, the more Grace felt cheated. She'd been denied the pleasures of pampering adorable daughters and saddled with the burden of rearing selfish sons. None of the three women had the slightest idea they were being gently shepherded towards completing Heather's wish.
"So what do you think of my receptionist," Cass asked as she, Grace, and Hillary settled into comfortable chairs in her office.
"She's very pretty," Grace stated diplomatically. She didn't want to tell Cass that she thought Candi's outfit was entirely too revealing. "I noticed her last name is Trate. Is she related to you?"
"By marriage," Cass replied with a chuckle. "Candi is what's left of my husband after I caught him cheating."
Grace gaped in disbelief. "You're joking," she declared. "Please don't think I'm being rude but since our discussion is so... delicate... I feel I must be blunt. There is no way that sexy teenage girl could ever have been a man. Your husband... was he ten when you married him?"
"No offense is taken," Cass replied. "I can assure you I'm quite accustomed to reactions like your's. Candi is 38. I took special pains to make sure she looks young and sexy. Her make-up is permanently applied so she always looks as if she's on the prowl. Thanks to the hypnotherapy she has also received she's an outrageous flirt and can only say NO to men who are total scum bags. She seldom spends a night at home anymore. I decided since she wanted to cheat on me by sleeping around, I'd see to it that she has every opportunity do so. I gave her the kind of body she'd always lusted after. She knows she's an out and out nymphomaniac, but she still has all her memories of being a stud. It really gets to her that she's now fulfilling the sexual fantasies of men who are just like she had been."
With that, Cass flicked on a TV set and a video began to play. It began with a scene from Dr. Trate's wedding. The groom was a handsome man in his mid twenties. Next came a scene in an examination room where the man, a few years older, was secured to an examination table. His eyes were wide with terror as Dr. Trate worked between his legs to castrate him. The next scene showed the man, now unconscious, being wheeled into surgery. Visible but non-gory scenes followed showing the complete sex-change and plastic surgery that transformed Mr. Trate into voluptuous Candi. When the 20 minute video ended, Cass smiled triumphantly at a very startled Grace.
"That was hard to believe," Grace finally declared. "I have no choice but to believe you now. Is that what you did to Leslie and Heather?"
"The surgery was similar, but there was no intentional agony," Cass explained. "Leslie wanted to become a girl. Heather was tricked into the procedure. She thought it was the only way to save her life."
"You're telling me you could do that to my boys," Grace asked. "Would they be as pretty as Leslie and Heather?"
"I definitely can do the same to your boys," Cass replied with a predatory smile. "I can transform any boy into a pretty girl. Whether or not they'd be as pretty as Leslie and Heather is an open question. I'd have to see your boys first. The truth is that I simply love changing boys into girls. The only thing I like better is to change men into women, especially when they don't want to do it. The more macho a man is, the bigger the thrill to change him into his own wet dream."
"From what I saw, Grace already has her husband well under control," Hillary chuckled.
"I cemented that control yesterday," Grace crowed. "I backed him into a corner where he had no choice but to sign himself over into my full control. I now have full legal power of attorney over him for the next year."
"That's perfect," Cass enthused. "We can bring him into the clinic and change him into a sexy little bimbo."
"That does sound quite interesting," Grace answered. "But I'm not sure. I've knocked him down several pegs already. He was a nasty, self-centered obnoxious man who always took me for granted before I inherited all this money. He's broke and destitute. That's how I coerced him into signing the papers. I promised I'd ask Hillary if she had any job openings. He was an office manager before he stupidly quit his job when I inherited the money. Then too, I've got to think about the boys. What would they do if their father suddenly turned into their wet dream?"
"That's a marvelous idea," Cass bubbled as she began to set forth a bizarre plot.
"That sounds quite fiendish," Grace declared. "I love it!"
"I agree," Hillary added with relish.
The women huddled together for the rest of the afternoon as they worked out the details. In this manner Heather's transformation wish began to jell into reality without creating any major ripples in the natural order of things.
That evening as the Henry family sat down for supper, Grace surveyed her sullen husband and her anxious sons. A smile filled her face as she anticipated the changes that would be occurring. The silence from the males was almost deafening as they cowered before Grace. To them, she looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.
"I spent the afternoon with Hillary Balkut," Grace intoned imperiously knowing that after Sunday's incident she had their instant undivided attention. "Not only is she the mother of Leslie and guardian of Heather, she's the owner and president of Balkut Engineering."
"Richard, as I promised Hillary and I discussed the possibility of a job for you," Grace smiled sweetly. "After I explained ALL that we've been through during the past year, she said she'd be delighted to hire you. She has a position open that is absolutely vital to the operation of the office. She's agreed to provide full benefits, pension, vacation, and pay a salary that will be above average for similar positions as well as commensurate with your experience. Of course, you'll have to attend an intensive one month orientation and training course to learn all you'll need to know. You'll leave Sunday afternoon and the program will begin first thing Monday morning."
"You arranged a job for me," Richard sputtered angrily. "How dare you? I don't need your condescending smugness and I certainly don't need Hillary Balkut's charity. I will NOT be taking that job and you can tell her!"
"Richard, darling," Grace replied with a cloyingly sweet voice. "I fully understand your indignation. But as we discussed yesterday, you WILL do as I say. However, despite what you think I am not completely heartless. If between now and Sunday you can find another job on your own, I will call Hillary and cancel your training. Since I know it's difficult to get a job on such short notice, I'll accept a reasonable possibility of employment as long as you have a written note from a prospective employer. If you do not have a job and if you refuse to take Hillary's offer, I will throw you out on your ear. If you don't leave, I'll have you arrested for vagrancy and breach of contract. Have I made myself PERFECTLY clear?"
"Yes," Richard replied knowing she had him right where she wanted him. He had no doubts that she would carry through on her promises to have him evicted and jailed. "Thank you for giving me a bit of time to find a job on my own."
"If you'd have kept your job none of this would have happened," Grace intoned imperiously. "Men can be such fools."
Richard hung his head in shame. It cut to his heart to have his sons see him reduced to such ineffectiveness. The boys shivered as they realized just how domineering their mother was becoming. They understood even more fully that if their father had no choice but to meekly submit and thank her for showing him mercy, they were doomed to obey her whims.
Heather and Leslie had been unable to talk of nothing but the pretty Irish orphaned girl since they'd arrived home from school on Tuesday. When Mother Superior Murphy called and politely asked if orphaned Patti could visit her home to be with Leslie and Heather, Hillary only had one concern. That was quickly alleviated when Mother Superior Murphy informed Hillary that Patti knew that Heather and Leslie had once been boys. Hillary thought having an adorable Irish girl about would be delightful and not only agreed to allow Patti to visit, she invited Patti and Mother Superior Murphy to attend the planned Victorian Tea on Saturday. Leslie, Heather, and Patti quickly became fast friends. The girls discovered that they loved to flirt. The giggling trio quickly developed a comradery that made the heads of the poor boys in their class spin. Heather quickly lost her fears of being around boys. Leslie and Heather had to ride herd on Patti to keep her flirting within the bounds of decency. Apparently, Patti's libido was just as high and insatiable as it had been when she'd been a male Leprechaun.
On Thursday Grace instituted a new policy of dropping off and picking up the boys at school. Naturally, the boys were not happy about this since they were unable to hang round with their friends and goof off. Their friends also laughed and ridiculed them for submitting to their overbearing mother.
Naturally the boys complained bitterly about being treated like little kids. Grace merely let them bitch as she drove. The boys took her silence as a green light and brought up every complaint they had about their changed lives since she'd inherited the money. When they'd finished airing their complaints, she opened up.
"So you think I'm being cruel and unfair about the way I'm treating you," Grace declared. "You claim I'm treating you like little boys. Now let me tell you a few things. The way I treat you is a direct reflection of your behavior. If I'm treating you like little boys, that's the way you behave. You show no sense of responsibility. You show no maturity. You show no compassion. You're so self-centered that you're only interested in making yourselves feel good. Do you think a mature, responsible man would have laughed and pointed at poor Heather when the wind flipped her skirt? Did you show any compassion for her when you realized she was humiliated? What exactly did you do? What was your response? You pointed at her. You laughed! You jeered her. You made her cry! You behaved like a couple of kindergartners!
"I'm treating you and your father according to the way behaved on Sunday," Grace stated firmly as the boys wilted in their seats. "I will no longer tolerate crude language. You will keep your rooms tidy. You will put your dirty laundry in the wash. You will do your homework before playing. You will learn to be polite. You will learn proper manners. You will learn proper deportment. I will continue to do so until you prove to me that you've matured and learned your lessons.
"We are going to attend a Victorian Tea at the Balkut home on Saturday," Grace confirmed. "I know Heather and Leslie will be wearing dainty fluffy party dresses with oodles of dainty petticoats and lace and ribbons. I seriously considered following Heather's suggestion that I attire you in dresses."
The boys exchanged nervous looks of near panic. They knew their mother was not joking. Neither boy wanted any parts of wearing girl's clothes. They also knew there would be no help coming from their thoroughly pussy whipped father. They were left to face their mother on their own.
"I still may do so if you give me any reason to do so," Grace continued. "From this moment forth I expect your complete and unwavering cooperation. You will do what I say when I say it. If I hear any arguing, if I sense any stalling, or if I hear any complaining, you'll find yourselves in dresses so fast your heads will spin. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"Yes, mother," the boys chorused morosely.
"I intend to hold you to that," Grace intoned as they pulled into a parking lot.
She parked in front of a store called FairyTale Fashions. The display windows were filled with bridal dresses, prom dresses, flower girl dresses, and a myriad of other sweet girlish fashion confections. The eyes of the boys grew wide with fear and trepidation.
"You don't need to wet yourselves," Grace chuckled at their discomfort. "I have no intention of forcing you into dresses. This shop also handles clothes for boys. You two need to be fitted for suitable outfits for the Tea. That's why we're here. Of course, if you'd prefer to wear dresses to match Leslie and Hillary, I'm sure that can be arranged."
"No, no, that's all right, Mother," Alec exclaimed with obvious fear. "We didn't know a place like this sells boys clothes."
"Well they do," Grace intoned. "Now, I expect your full and total cooperation. You will be quiet, well behaved and polite young men... or else."
The boys swallowed their fear and attempted to still their rapidly beating hearts as they meekly followed their mother into the boutique. Upon entering, they quivered with terror as they sniffed the sweetly perfumed air. Everywhere they looked the placed oozed overt prissy girlishness. Naturally pink was the dominate color. Ribbons, bows, and lace adorned everything. Rack after rack of fluffy dresses stretched before their eyes as they timidly followed their determined mother deeper into the feminine environment. They felt like alien invaders landing upon a hostile planet. Their masculinity, already quite subdued by the steady repression of the last six months, quailed before the unyielding onslaught of femininity. They were totally surrounded and immersed in utter girlishness. Their pale faces and trembling hands told of their discomfort and terror.
The customers were all female, mostly women. There were several little girls looking at delightfully ornate lace encrusted frilly party dresses. A few teenage girls were looking at more sophisticated evening gowns, but even those were undeniably feminine. The other customers looked at the boys as if they were from mars. The teenage girls looked at them and giggled. This made the poor hapless guys feel like fish out of water. They found it becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. They could feel and hear their blood pulsing through their ears. They felt as if their hearts would burst through their chests. They were light-headed and dizzy.
Joyce picked Leslie and Heather up after school as usual. Patti joined them as they headed off to select suitable dresses for the Tea on Saturday. All three girls were excited about the Tea Party. They had hoped to select and wear more mature formals and weren't happy about being expected to wear sugar and spice little girl petticoated party dresses. Then they were told how Alec and James would be dressed and that the boy's outfits would compliment the dresses the girls wore. This meant the more prissy frills they wore, the more sissy like the boys' outfits would be. Once they learned that, they eager looked forward to selecting the most elaborately frilled outfits they could find.
Upon arriving at FairyTale Fashions, their eyes lit up like little kids in a candy store. Leslie had often been inside similar stores, but for Heather and Patti this was their first venture into sugar and spice land. They eagerly ventured deeper into the delightful outfits and submerged themselves in a sea of utter femininity. Leslie wasn't quite as enthralled as the newer girls so she occasionally looked about the store. She was the one who spotted Grace Henry and her sons heading for the rear of the store. With wide-eyed excitement he nudged Heather and Patti and pointed to the nervous boys. Trying to suppress their giggles, they carefully followed the boys while keeping one rack of dresses between them.
"I'm the owner, Olivia Childress, may I help you," a smiling woman asked as she stepped from behind a counter when the Henrys reached the rear of the store.
"Yes, Olivia," Grace replied with a smile. "I'm Grace Henry. These are my sons Alec and James. We talked earlier on the phone. I've brought my boys in to be fitted for the formal Tea we're attending Saturday."
"Oh yes, Ms Henry," Olivia gushed as she took Grace's hand in hers. "I'm so delighted to meet you! It's so seldom we have mothers bring in their teenage sons. But that's their loss."
The boys lowered their heads in shame as Olivia looked them over as if they were a couple of prime steers. That's what thy felt like too, castrated bulls, unable to be the males they were born to be. In their chagrin they noted the feet of three girls just on the other side of a rack of dresses. The closeness of the girls added greatly to their nervousness since they were near enough to hear every word being said.
"Well, I can see you boys are not happy to be here," Olivia declared. "If you prefer, there is a private fitting room available."
Patti almost shouted out a resounding NO upon hearing the offer. All three girls wanted to see the boys publicly humiliated.
"We'd really appreciate privacy," James whispered in a quivering voice.
"Boys, you're forgetting your manners," Grace warned. "Stand up straight. Don't lower your heads. Speak clearly. Have you already forgotten our discussion?"
"No, Mother," Alec said instantly. "Ms Childress, I apologize for our poor behavior. Please forgive us. The private dressing room would suit us better than out here."
"I'll accept your apology," Olivia replied. "But understand this. Offering you the use of the private dressing room is for the convenience of my other customers, not yours. I simply don't want your lowbrow attitudes and demeanor to interfere with their shopping pleasure."
This time it was Heather who had to stifle her response that they wouldn't mind in the least if the boys remained.
With the boys suitably put in place they meekly followed Olivia through an ornate door into an equally ornate corridor. As she passed the counter she'd been working behind when they first entered, she picked up a book. Several doors opened from this hall. Olivia ushered into a frilly lace trimmed pink room.
Patti, Heather, and Leslie stepped from behind the rack of dresses to frown at the door as it closed. Just then Joyce joined them with a clerk.
"Hello girls," the young woman smiled at them. "My name is Stephanie. I'm the daughter of the owner, Olivia Childress. She just took those boys into the back to be measured for their outfits. I understand that their outfits are to be as ornate as yours so we'd better find suitable outfits before my mother finishes with them."
The girls didn't argue as their faces lit up with anticipation as Stephanie guided them to the juvenile frilly party dress area of the store. The girls were surprised to see so many selections in their sizes as well as many in even larger sizes. They set to shopping like sharks in a feeding frenzy.
"I'll need you to strip to your underwear," Olivia ordered the boys. "That includes your shoes and socks. You can place your things in the hooks and shelves in those lockers."
The boys looked for a changing cubicle but saw nothing as Olivia turned to their mother and opened the book. As the women paged through the tome, Alec and James exchanged looks of fear and trepidation before Alec built up his courage enough to speak.
"Excuse me, Ms. Childress," Alec asked deferentially. "But we can't see the changing cubicles."
"Your boys are quite deprived of the good life," Olivia stated to Grace. "It's a good thing you've decided to teach them proper manners now before it's too late."
The boys blushed furiously. Thy knew they had made a big mistake, but had no idea what they'd done wrong.
"Boys," Olivia asked as if she were talking to a small toddler. "Why would there be any need for changing cubicles in a dressing room?"
"Ah, I just thought, ah, you know, ah, a little privacy," Alec stammered softly.
"My dear boy," Olivia declared in a most demeaning manner. "I'm a professional. I've seen thousands of young boys in their underwear. I've seen hundreds of teenage boys in their underwear. I daresay I've even seen quite a few in the all together. It's part of my job. It must be obvious that I need to have you in your underwear so I can obtain accurate measurements. How do you expect me to measure you without seeing you in your underwear? Now stop wasting time and strip, or would you prefer if we stepped back onto the main showroom floor? I have several clerks who would be most delighted to assist you in disrobing so that I can take your measurements."
"No, that's all right," Alec exclaimed as he and James paled at the thought of being publicly stripped. "We just didn't understand. Please forgive our ignorance."
Alec promptly began to remove his shirt, and James quickly followed suit. Their embarrassment at being seen in their underwear was surpassed by their fear of the possible consequences if they disobeyed. The women returned to the book as the boys finished stripping to their underwear. In moments they were clad in their jockey shorts and T-shirts. They placed their clothes on the hooks and shelves in the lockers as they had been directed. The doors to the lockers clicked shut ominously as they closed them. The boys exchanged worried looks when they discovered the doors would not reopen. Before they could react further, Olivia approached them.
"That's much better," Olivia declared as she turned to the boys while their mother continued to page through the book.
With that she produced a cloth tape measure, a pad, and a pencil. Then she set to work measuring the embarrassed boys. The boys fidgeted nervously as she measured their necks, chests, shoulders, waist, hips, and inseams. Next they endured having the circumferences of their thighs, calves, upper arms, and forearms measured. The boys concerns grew as they wondered why the measurements had to be so precise. Naturally, the boys attempted to hide their genitals. Grace merely chuckled at their modesty and nudged their hands aside to take the appropriate measurements as the boys turned beet red.
"Grace, you really should consider putting these two into dresses," Olivia informed Grace as she worked. "I must say I have doubts that you told me their real ages. Judging from what they've been trying to hide, if I had to guess at their age, I'd say they were maybe 11 and 12. In comparison to the other boys I've worked with, the male equipment, and I use that term very loosely, of your boys are quite undersized. No wonder they're trying to hide themselves. Any girl who sees their manhood would laugh herself silly. You know, they really would be better off as girls. In fact they are much too pretty to really be boys. You should consider changing their sex. They'd make really adorable girls."
There is no worse teasing a boy can endure than to have his male organs denigrated. Every boy is naturally filled with self-doubt about the size of his manhood to begin with. To hear an adult woman, one who apparently has the expertise to back up what she says, belittle their manhood was the most horrendous thing they could endure. The steely look their mother was giving them as Olivia spoke left them know they'd better keep their mouths shut. They clearly recalled her threats. Tears of terror, helplessness, and frustration filled the eyes of the boys as they silently endured the abuse. They wanted to run, to escape, but there was no where to go except out into the store. Dressed as they were they certainly did not want to do that. The only consolation they had was that their mother said nothing.
"Now, girls, I'll give some last instructions," Dr. Trate told the nervous teary eyed ex-boys. "As I said, my treatments will help you accept your girlhood. You'll quickly adapt to girlhood. I'm sure at least some of you were planning a last minute escape by running away tonight. Since you're castrated, you now know such an act is useless. Saturday afternoon, you will attend the Victorian Tea Party at the Balkut estate. Saturday evening, you will enter the hospital. On Sunday, one by one, I will remove the now useless remnants of your masculinity and reshape your groins into absolute girlishness. By this time on Sunday, each of you will be forever more a girl..."
All three girls blushed and exchanged guilty looks. Heather then confessed to her latest wish that any boy who teased a boy in the process of being transformed into a girl by one of her spell wishes would automatically invoke a similar transformation spell to be cast on himself.
"That could prove quite devastating," Mother Superior Murphy stated. "If boys simply being boys tease one of our new girls, that boy will become a girl. While that seems to be a fitting punishment, if all the boys so spelled are enrolled here, I'm afraid we'll overload the school."
The three mischievous girls hung their heads in shame. They hadn't realized the possible consequences of Heather's latest wish.
"Cheer up, girls," Erin Murphy laughed. "I like the spell. I'll just have to start making plans to expand the school. I'm sure Dr. Trate and Leslie's mother will assist lining up sponsors for the expansion."
Leslie, Heather, and Patti headed down to the dance room where Leslie was teaching the basics of ballet and conventional tap dancing to Heather and Patti. Patti also spent some time teaching the others traditional Irish Step Dancing.
Just before three o'clock, Grace Henry, Lydia Waters, Linda Fritz, and Ellen Harris led their four reluctant and frightened faux girls into the waiting room of Dr. Cassandra Trate. They were warmly greeted by Candi Trate. The older soon to be former boys were enchanted by Candi's overt femininity and sexual charms but their fear of what awaited them kept them from becoming too aroused. Since Dr. Trate had canceled all her other appointments, there was no one else in the waiting room.
Candi served coffee or tea to the women and orange juice to the faux-girls while the women filled out the required medical forms and signed the permission to treat forms. None of them realized they were consuming a powerful hypnotic drug that Candi had slipped into their drinks. By the time Dr. Trate entered the waiting room, the hypnotic drug had taken effect. The women would readily agree with all Dr. Trate said and recommended while the boys would be rendered incapable of refusing to cooperate.
Dr. Trate entered the waiting room promptly at three. After greeting the women, she turned to the four cowering girls. "Well, I must say that it looks like I'm going to be correcting the mistakes made at birth when these four pretty girls should have been born," Dr. Trate told the women knowing the hypnotic drug would thus reinforce and solidify their resolve to transform the boys into girls. "I simply love helping unfortunate unhappy boys discover true happiness in girlhood. I'm sure you’ll agree with all of my methods." This last phrase would serve to coerce the women to agree with any treatment Dr. Trate suggested might be appropriate.
"Allie, Jamie, and Bobbi Jo might be interested in knowing that I'll make sure they grow into very beautiful, feminine women," Dr. Trate stated then looked firmly into the eyes of the trembling petticoated lads. "Of course I'm sure that such pretty young misses will behave themselves and cooperate fully with me during their examination." Again the hypnotic drug coerced the boys to accept her statement as a command.
Allie, Jamie, and Bobbi Jo wilted while Tammy just shifted uncomfortably. They wanted to rebel but found themselves compelled to behave like the demure young ladies they appeared to be.
"I have much experience transforming males into delectable females," Dr. Trate continued. "Isn't that right, Candi?"
"Oh yes, it certainly is," Candi giggled like a true bubble headed blonde.
"You'd hardly believe that Candi is 38 years old," Dr. Trate informed them. "Of course, you'd also have trouble believing that Candi was once my husband. Of course, that was until I found him cheating on me ten years ago. I corrected that problem though, didn't I Candi?"
"I never look at any woman besides Cassandra now. But men...," Candi giggled. "Well, that's an entirely different matter!"
The four women looked at Candi with outright astonishment. "Are you serious," Ellen asked. "Is Candi 38 and was she your husband?"
"Yes, she is 38 and she was my husband," Dr. Trate answered. "Candi is now a complete woman. She still shares my bed but now it's as a lesbian lover. However, Candi is now also bisexual and is a virtual nymphomaniac. It's sometimes hard to keep her at home. She often spends the night with one of her male lovers."
"Can you make such a transformation to any male," Ellen asked.
"In most cases, yes," Dr. Trate replied. "There are a few large men who would never make believable women, but I can work my magic on about ninety five percent of the adult males and ninety nine percent of the juvenile males. I generally catagorize males in three groups. The first group I call F.L.M., first level male. This group consists of any male who has yet to enter puberty. Level one males can easily be transformed into a girls. Tammy is definitely an FLM. An S.L.M., or second level male, is a male in the early stages of puberty. It's still relatively easy to transform an SLM into a girl but a bit more involved. Bobbi Jo is definitely an SLM. Allie and Jamie are just at the upper end of SLM but on the verge of entering the TLM, or third level male group. For a TLM in the middle of puberty and beyond, it's usually possible to transform him into a girl but it takes quite a bit of effort to erase the male secondary sexual characteristics engendered by male puberty. These characteristics are heavy body hair including a beard, the Adam's apple and deep voice, and the typical male musculature and broad shoulders. But as you can see by looking at Candi, it is possible to eliminate all those things. You've brought Allie, Jamie, Bobbi Jo, and Tammy in at a nearly perfect time because none of them have yet to show signs of the secondary male sexual characteristics. In a few moments they never will."
"My son is twenty five," Ellen continued. "He's currently in jail for drug dealing and is due to get out in two weeks. He's a liar, a cheat, and a despicable womanizer. I know he'll abuse me when he comes home. He's also Tammy's father, he raped Linda when she was fifteen. I intend to make all this up to Linda and Tammy by having them live in my home. As you can imagine, having Tommy released from prison and coming home will simply not work out."
"Give me all the details of his discharge from prison," Dr. Trate said knowing the hypnotic drug would make it a command. "I'll make arrangements to have him picked up at the prison gates in a limo. Candi will be in the back to give him one last romp in the hay as a male. With spiked booze, he'll be out before he can get home. We'll bring him right to the hospital. When he wakes up, you’ll have a pretty daughter. With hypnosis, I can make him a demure proper miss or a wanton slut, or somewhere in between. I suggest you decide what type of Personality you want your former son to have as a young woman."
"He was always boyishly handsome," Linda stated as she thought of a diabolical revenge. "If he still retains those young charms, could you redo him to be, say a fifteen year old bubble headed cheerleader?"
"That should be no problem," Dr. Trate laughed. "In fact, that seems like a perfect situation for an arrogant womanizer. I can leave his memories intact but force him to act like a cute bubble headed cheerleader. I can make her an easy lay and/or orally fixated. It should prove most interesting to watch him be the type of girl for which he lusted. Start HER off as a sophomore in high school and let her re-graduate from school. See how many boys she satisfies during her three years. I can require her to confess her sexual exploits to both of you and you can set quotas for her. Perhaps sleeping with every guy on the football, basketball and baseball teams. If she completes those quotas for each year, once she's graduated, I can reduce her sex drive to normal and you can allow her to resume a normal although definitely female life."
"That does sound like a wonderful way to punish him for his years of evil," Ellen agreed not realizing the hypnotic drug had convinced her to follow the scenario. "Let's set it up. I certainly don't want to give him a chance to get back in with his old cronies. Are you certain about having Candi greet him? I don't want to force her to do something she doesn't want to do."
"Oh I don't mind at all," Candi giggled. "I love having sex with a man. Knowing that I'll be the last girl he ever has gives it an extra special thrill for me. By the time I've satisfied my lust he’ll be exhausted, the Mickey Finn he drank will have kicked in. Then he'll still be conscious but unable to move or talk. Then I'll tell him that I'm 38 and was a womanizing man until ten years ago when I was transformed into a sex-starved bimbo to service men like I had been. Then I'll tell him that I was his last sex as a male and that in three hours, he'll be a female who craves sex with men. It's so much fun watching the men squirm with fear, especially when I time it so that we arrive at the hospital just as I tell them. I've gotten pretty good at timing it just right."
"Can't it be dangerous," Linda asked.
"It could," Dr. Trate replied. "But I'm in the front compartment with the driver. I have an almost instant knock-out gas I can release in the rear area if things get out of hand. It'll knock out the man and Candi, but no harm is done. Then we simply carry out the plan. In fact, I always video tape the man's last tryst and his reaction to learning his fate. It's a major turn on."
Allie, Jamie, and Bobbi were sweating as they listened to all the talk about transforming men into sluts. They worried that their fate might be the same. Tammy was too young to understand most of what was being said.
"You girls don't have to worry about being turned into bimbos," Dr. Trate reassured them knowing her words would have the power of command. "You'll be very nice pretty prissy girls. Of course, as girls you’ll be attracted to boys, but you will not be promiscuous. Now, if no one objects to keeping these four young ladies together, let's go into one of my treatment rooms so I can give you each a physical."
Since no one objected due to the effects of the hypnotic drug, they all went into the largest treatment room in the office complex. The women watched as the children nervously stripped down to their panties. With Candi's able assistance, each child was weighed, measured, checked for temperature and blood pressure, and had several vials of blood drawn for the required lab tests.
Then, one by one starting with Allie, each child climbed onto the examination table and was covered with a sheet. Then their panties were removed and their legs secured into gynecological supports to spread their thighs wide to reveal their groin. The other children were kept behind Allie's head so they could not see Dr. Trate's examination of the genitals.
Allie did his best to keep calm but his nerves were really getting to him. As the oldest of the four boys, he felt compelled to set an example for the others. Yet knowing that he was being checked out prior to entering the hospital the next day for sex-change surgery did little to calm his nearly shattered nerves. His only hope was to endure this latest humiliation and somehow escape before entering the hospital.
Dr. Trate, assisted by Candi, first put on rubber gloves. "I know this makes you nervous, Allie," Dr. Trate told the shivering boy. "But it's part of the examination. First I'm going to cleanse your entire groin area with an alcohol sanitizer which contains a topical anesthetic to numb the entire area. This way I can conduct my examination without any undo embarrassing physical reactions."
Allie knew exactly what she was talking about. Erections are often a major problem for any teenage boy. Having one while wearing soft silken panties was near normal. To be able to prevent one while being handled down there would be nearly impossible. While the exam frightened him, he was glad for Dr. Trate's understanding of his inability to control his erections and her steps to prevent such an occurrence.
Dr. Trate washed the quivering lad's groin. The anesthetic acted almost instantaneously. Then while it appeared she was still wiping the area, Dr. Trate injected Allie's testicles and penis with a strong numbing agent that totally took away all feeling. Due to the localized effect of the topical anesthetic, the lad never realized he'd been injected five times.
"Now I'm going to do a rectal exam," Dr. Trate told Allie. "All you'll feel is a bit of pulling and tugging, so just relax as best you can."
Allie felt Dr. Trate slip a finger in his backside, but the area went numb almost instantly. He held his breath and tried to stay as still as possible while she probed his depths. Again he tried his best to be an example for the other boys.
Dr. Trate did slip a finger well lubed with topical anesthetic inside Allie's anus. Again the agent acted quickly and Allie lost all feeling. The finger probe to check the prostate was completed quickly. The next part would be done clandestinely under the guise of a prolonged rectal exam. Using a scalpel, Dr. Trate deftly sliced open Allie's scrotum and with much practiced skill, popped the boy's prized testicles from the sack. With quick nips, both balls dropped into her hand to be slipped into a little baggie labeled ALLIE. Then Dr. Trate tied off the ends of the blood vessels and tubes that had connected to the testicles before easily stitching the small wound closed. Allie had been castrated in under five minutes.
"All done down here," Dr. Trate declared as she rose from her seat. "I understand you're going to be regressed a year so you’ll be in the same grade as Jamie. I need to check your breasts so we can get you going on proper breast development for a fourteen year old girl."
Allie's initial relief that the genital exam was over was short lived. Dr. Trate's skill and explanations were so well done that the boy never suspected he'd been castrated. He still hoped to be able to run away that night. Dr. Trate reminding him that it was planned to regress him a year did little to bolster his nerves. Her declaration that she needed to get him started on the proper breast development for a fourteen year old girl nearly unnerved him.
As Candi undid Allie's legs, Dr. Trate moved to Allie's side to gently squeeze and probe his boyish chest. "I see no problems," Dr. Trate declared. "All I need do is inject some prolactin into each nipple and you'll be on your way to growing a set of perky breasts."
Allie squirmed under the doctor's firm grasp. The humiliation he felt while having his boyish chest checked for suitability to develop girlish breasts nearly snapped his reserve.
Before Allie could react, Dr. Trate produced a syringe and expertly jabbed a nipple to empty half the contents into his flesh.
"What are you doing," Allie squealed with unbridled fear.
"I’m injecting your breasts with prolactin, a powerful female hormone that stimulates breast development," Dr. Trate calmly informed him as she plunged the syringe into the terrified boy's second nipple to empty the rest of it's contents.
"There you go, Allie, all done," Dr. Trate informed the ex-lad who did not yet know he was no longer a boy. "After you put your panties on, slide off the table and put your clothes back on."
Allie promptly accepted his panties that Candi offered and quickly pulled them back into place. Then he hurriedly slipped from the examination table and tried to get as far away from Dr. Trate as possible to slip back into the welcome modesty of his bra, slip, tights, and dress. His nipples tingled and felt hot from the injections. As he dressed, he hoped the breast development would not be too great because he didn't want to be a runaway boy with tits.
Jamie was the next to undergo the procedure. His nerves were only a bit better than Allie's because he saw Allie enduring the exam. The only part that unnerved him was the last. He bravely followed Allie's example and kept his cool until it came time for the injections in his breasts. Guiltily he glanced at Allie who by then was back in his dress and waiting impatiently near the door. By the time he caught the look of terror in Allie's eyes, he'd received the damning injections.
Twelve year old Bobbi Jo was to be regressed to a ten year old girl while Tammy would remain eight. At that age, breast development was not needed so they did not receive the breast injections. They were only too glad to have the ordeal completed.
Everyone waited until Tammy was reclothed. Then Dr. Trate asked the boys to stand in front of their mothers. Once more what she was about to say would be compelled actions due to the hypnotic drug. As soon as they lined up, Candi produced a tray from beneath the examination table with four baggies neatly laid out. She presented the tray to the lined up boys and mothers.
"As you can see, there is a bag with each of your names on it," Dr. Trate stated. "Inside each bag you'll see two small pink olive like ovids. I removed them from you during the exam. They are your testicles. Each of you has been castrated. You are no longer boys, nor will you ever be boys again. You will never develop into men."
Allie, Jamie, Bobbi Jo, and Tammy looked in stunned disbelief at their severed manhood. Only Tammy didn't fully understand all the ramifications of the castrations, but he knew enough to know he'd never again be a boy. Allie and Jamie fainted after a few seconds of staring at their lost manhood. Bobbi Jo turned to his mother and buried his face to cry.
After reviving Allie and Jamie, the pale ex-boys were made to stand in front of their mother. "You will never miss your balls," Dr. Trate told them. "My treatments will help you accept your girlhood. Allie and Jamie, you met Heather. You know how quickly she adapted to girlhood. You'll do the same. Now for you mothers. I usually send the testicles out to be bronzed, then gold plated, and made into earrings. I've done that with Richard and Robert's balls. Most of my sex-changed females enjoy occasionally wearing their family jewels. I think since males put such importance on their family jewels, they shouldn't be deprived of that pleasure simply because they've become females. If you'll look at Candi, she's wearing her balls. If you don’t want your special earrings, I know of many women who would simply love to wear a pair of balls in their ears."
Allie, Jamie, Bobbi Jo, and Tammy all peered at the glistening golden ovids dangling prettily from Candi's ears. Earlier they had thought the earrings looked nice and added to Candi's sexiness. They had no idea that they had once hung lower on Candi's body. None of them wanted to wear their balls in the same manner as Candi!
However, the women were compelled to think the idea to be clever and quite fitting. The ex-boys cried as they heard their mothers unanimously declare they wanted the family jewels for their daughter. The hypnotic drug made the ex-boys equally influenced by their mother as by Dr. Trate.
"Now that the matter of the family jewels is taken care of," Dr. Trate stated. "I must inform you that both Rikki and Tonia are still under heavy sedation due to the extensive surgery I had to do to make them pretty females. We'll be unable to let you see them. Girls, you’ll have to wait until after you recover from your surgery to see them.
"Now, girls, I'll give some last instructions," Dr. Trate told the nervous teary eyed ex-boys. "As I said, my treatments will help you accept your girlhood. You'll quickly adapt to girlhood. I'm sure at least some of you were planning a last minute escape by running away tonight. Since you're castrated, you now know such an act is useless. Saturday afternoon, you will attend the Victorian Tea Party at the Balkut estate. Saturday evening, you will enter the hospital. On Sunday, one by one, I will remove the now useless remnants of your masculinity and reshape your groins into absolute girlishness. By this time on Sunday, each of you will be forever more a girl. As for tonight and tomorrow, you will be polite, nice, quiet, and obedient girls. Does each of you understand what I've just told you?"
"Yes Dr. Trate," the four mesmerized ex-boys declared softly while dropping obedient curtseys.
As a precaution against unwanted hypnotic suggestions, the air in the hall outside the exam room was saturated with lilac scented antidote to the hypnotic drug.
As they left Dr. Trate's office, the ex-boys realized their ordeal was no joke. They had no idea why they had curtseyed. They now fully understood that they were no longer boys and that soon they would be girls. This destroyed all hope of escape and rebellion. They were trapped into becoming girls and had no other choice but to see the ordeal through to completion. Of course, Dr. Trate's orders that they attend the Victorian Tea and then enter the hospital the next day for their sex-change was an order they could not refuse. The same went for her order that they be obedient young misses.
Being forewarned of the burgeoning influx of new students, at four thirty, Mother Superior Murphy waited in the school's conference room instead of her smaller office. She sat in an oversized chair at the head of the conference table as the women filed in to take the other seats. Straight backed chairs had been placed along one wall for the prospective students.
"I'm Mother Superior Murphy," Erin stated formally.
"I'm Grace Henry," Grace replied. "These are my daughters Allie and Jamie."
Not knowing why, Allie and Jamie blushed sweetly and dropped demure curtseys as they were introduced to the intimidating Mother Superior.
"I'm Lydia Waters," Lydia replied next. "This is my daughter Bobbi Jo."
Bobbi Jo had no idea why but she too blushed sweetly and executed a demure curtsey at her introduction.
"I'm Linda Fritz," Linda declared in turn. "This is my daughter Tammy."
Tammy, like the other ex-boys felt compelled to blush sweetly and execute a demure curtsey.
"I'm Ellen Harris," Ellen finished the introductions. "I'm Tammy's grandmother."
"I'm delighted to meet each of you," Erin replied. Please, ladies, take a seat about the table."
The four women sat about the table with Mother Superior Murphy. The four ex-boys stood nervously behind their mothers.
"Girls, you may take a seat upon the chairs at the wall," Erin ordered.
Without their balls and with their masculinity now destroyed, Allie, Jamie, Bobbi Jo, and Tammy quietly moved to the chairs at the wall. After a nod of acknowledgment from Mother Superior Murphy, the new girls dropped another curtsey and then daintily smoothed their skirts before demurely sitting quietly and nervously in the chairs by the wall.
Mother Superior Murphy smiled to see the new girls dressed similarly. Considering the circumstances of their transformations, she knew the selection of the prissy outfits had been made to reinforce their transition into girlhood. She also knew they were still trying to cope with their unwanted castrations. The rest of the meeting was uneventful.
By five, all four soon to be new girls were enrolled in St. Patrick's Parochial School and plans were made for them to begin classes next week once they recovered from Dr. Trate's irreversible treatments to send them irrevocably down the road to complete femininity. As the four ex-boys rose from their seats to leave with their mothers, they once more executed perfect curtseys.
That evening the ex-boys obediently assisted their mothers in eliminating every trace that males had ever lived in their homes. For Allie, Jamie, and Grace this meant cleaning out all evidence of Alec, James, and Richard. For Bobbi Jo and Lydia, this meant cleaning out all evidence of Robert and Tony. For Tammy, Linda, and Ellen, this meant first cleaning out the Fritz apartment, then moving into the Harris home where they cleaned out every trace of Tommy Harris as well as the remaining traces of George Harris, Ellen's late husband. All four sore and tired ex-boys snuggled into bed clad in soft, pretty, ruffled pink nylon baby doll nighties.
Saturday morning the Balkut home was bustling. Mother Superior Murphy had arrived early with her niece Patti in tow. Hillary supervised the three fourteen year old girls, Leslie, Heather, and Patti, in arranging the decorations and setting the formal tables. Joyce assisted by Erin, baked the tea cakes from scratch and prepared a light meal for lunch.
The Victorian Tea was to be held in the spacious twenty feet wide by fifty feet long sun room suitably decorated with potted palms and potted tropical flowers in bloom. Despite the chilly mid-November weather, the room was a balmy 80 degrees. The air was fragrant with sweet floral aromas stirred by the gentle breezes created by the slowly revolving ceiling fans. Delicate almost ethereal white wicker chairs and matching glass topped tables were arranged so that everyone would be comfortably seated close enough for pleasant conversation.
Allie, Jamie, Bobbi Jo, and Tammy were brought to FairyTale Fashions to be outfitted in their formal dresses about one o'clock. The four ex-boys meekly awaited their fittings in the largest dressing room. Grace, Lydia, Linda, and Ellen eagerly assisted Olivia and Stephanie in gathering the pre-selected outfits. The six women swept into the dressing room with their arms filled with a dazzling array of feminine pomp and finery. The four ex-boys quailed with repulsion but knew their days of brash boyhood were forever gone and that they would now be engulfed in prissy girlishness.
The outfits were nearly identical to the outfits of Leslie, Heather, and Patti. The only major differences were the colors of the outfits. Leslie had been outfitted all in yellow, Patti all in lavender, and Heather all in pink. Allie was to outfitted all in lime green, Jamie all in peach, Bobbi Jo all in turquoise, and Tammy all in pristine little girl white.
The new girls blushed demurely as they stripped to the buff. Then with the assistance of the women they stepped into soft satin rhumba style panties with row after row of delicate white lace ruffles across the backside. The soft clingy satin created quite pleasant sensations as it kissed their formerly boyish flesh. For Allie and Jamie the next item was matching white lace trimmed satin bras with padded seamless cups that hugged and caressed their already budding breasts. Bobbi Jo and Tammy donned matching white lace trimmed satin camisoles. All four former boys shivered in response to the delightful sensations created as the cute undies hugged their now nubile bodies.
Dainty rose patterned lace stockings with three inch wide elastic top cuffs to hold them in place covered their shapely legs to the top of their thighs. Dainty nylon anklets slipped over the stockings. Little girl style roll down cuffs formed an inch wide white lace ruffle about their trim ankles. Patent leather T-strap shoes in a color to match their outfits adorned their dainty feet. The shoes of Allie and Jamie had one inch heels while the shoes of Bobbi Jo and Tammy had half inch heels.
A fluffy flounced full crinoline petticoat with a white lace trimmed satin overslip was the next item the four soon to be girls donned. The darling fancy petticoat reached to mid-thigh and the crinkly multiple layers made it stand out five inches from their legs.
The luxurious velvet party dresses came next. The princess seams of the bodice were decorated with a half inch wide white lace ruffle. The dress buttoned up the back so snugly that the bodice shaped itself quite alluringly about Allie's and Jamie's budding breasts. The two inch high collar fit snugly about their slender necks and was trimmed with a delicate lace ruffle. Victorian style ivory cameos on a half inch wide satin ribbon were secured over the high necks of the dresses. A white lace sailor style square overlay adorned the top. Mutton topped loose full length sleeves ended in a flaring two inch wide ruffled cuff trimmed in white lace. Their narrow waists were accentuated by a three inch wide satin ribbon sash tied into a dainty full bow at the small of their back. The full skirts billowed out sweetly over the fluffy petticoats. The white lace trimmed scalloped hem allowed generous glimpses of the dainty petticoat beneath it. Kidskin gloves completed the outfits.
Allie and Jamie had their hair styled into soft bangs and a high bouncy ponytail secured high atop the back of their head by a white lace edged satin ribbon tied into a dainty bow. Bobbi Jo and Tammy had their hair styled into soft bangs and twin ponytails, each centered just above and behind their ears and secured by a white lace edged satin ribbon tied into a dainty bow.
The outfits simply oozed with little girl prissiness. For Bobbi Jo and Tammy, this made them look like adorable sweet simpering little girls. For Allie and Jamie, the look combined just the right touch of and tempting teenage flirtiness. All the faux girls looked absolutely charming and Allie and Jamie looked innocently seductive.
The faux boys were so engrossed in their feminization that they didn't even realize they were missing the biggest college football game of the season. The Penn State/Michigan State game started about the time they were slipping into their dainty petticoats. On Wednesday they had been eagerly looking forward to the big game. By Thursday they were trying to beg off from the Victorian Tea Party in order to see the game. By Friday, the destruction of their boyhood rendered the game unimportant. Now on Saturday, they were so wrapped up in their rapidly burgeoning girlishness they never gave the game a thought.
The Victorian Tea Party began at three thirty. Candi Trate, dressed in an old fashioned nineteenth century formal English maid's uniform greeted the guests as they arrived with a very prim and proper curtsey. She conducted the guests into the sun room where an all girl string quartet from the senior high of St. Patrick's Parochial School played quiet baroque music that formed a most delightful background for the affair. Candi seated the guests and curtseyed.
When all the guests had arrived, Candi signaled the musicians to stop playing. Then she stood in the entrance to make formal introductions.
"Ladies, it gives me great pleasure to introduce your hostess. Please welcome Ms Hillary Balkut, owner of Balkut Engineering."
Everyone applauded and smiled as Hillary swept graciously into the sun room wearing a scrumptious red satin nineteenth century formal gown with full petticoats and adorned with ruffles and lace. She curtseyed to her guests.
"Next is our guest of honor, Dr. Cassandra Trate, noted endocrinologist, gynecologist, and Hypnotherapist.."
Again everyone applauded and smiled as Cassandra swept into the room wearing a black satin gown otherwise identical to the one Hillary wore. She too curtseyed.
"Another honored guest is Mother Superior Erin Murphy, head of the St. Patrick's Convent and principal of St. Patrick's Parochial School."
Everyone applauded as Erin entered wearing a formal nun's habit from the nineteenth century. She merely nodded her head in response.
"I'll now introduce those already in the room. Will you please stand when I announce your name. I'll begin with Mother Superior Murphy's niece, Miss Patti Sherry O'Shea."
Candi paused between each announcement to allow the individual to smile, stand, and curtsey to the others.
"Ms Joyce Moore, companion, housekeeper, and nanny for Ms Balkut's daughter and ward... Miss Leslie Balkut, daughter of Ms Balkut... Miss Heather Reilly, daughter of Helen and Fred Reilly and ward of Ms Balkut while her parents are in Africa managing a project for Balkut Engineering... Ms Grace Henry, philanthropist... Miss Allie Henry, daughter of Ms Henry... Miss Jamie Henry, daughter of Ms Henry... Ms Lydia Waters, owner of Water's Systems... Miss Bobbi Jo Waters, daughter of Ms Waters... Ms Linda Fritz, office manager of Water's Systems... Miss Tammy Fritz, daughter of Ms Fritz... Ms Ellen Harris, grandmother of Bobbi Jo... Ms Olivia Childress, owner of FairyTale Fashions... Ms Stephanie Childress, saleslady at FairyTale Fashions and daughter of Olivia... Ms Kaye Gantz, office manager at Balkut Engineering... Ms Jeanne Green, ninth grade teacher at St. Patrick's Parochial School... Ms Jane Mitchell, sales, repairs, and customer service rep at Water's Systems... Ms Barbara Haines, sales, repairs, and customer service rep at Water's Systems... Ms Diane Lymaster, attorney at law... Ms Laurie Gates, lieutenant of detectives with the county police... and Ms Judy Winter, judge of the county courts..."
Candi then curtseyed and left to return with a tea cart with a complete sterling silver tea service. She served all the guests tea and cakes. The sheer number of people kept her busy. Naturally, the conversation swirled about Petticoat Discipline.
The budding femininity of the five fourteen year old girls was openly discussed. Leslie, Heather, Allie and Jamie were declared indistinguishable in their transformed femininity from Patti's natural girlishness. Only Leslie, Heather, Patti, and Erin knew the truth about Patti's transformation. Everyone else thought she was a real girl. Allie and Jamie were surprised as Leslie, Heather, and Patti accepted them as the pretty girls they appeared to be. The anxiety the former brothers felt over their transformation quickly vanished as they became involved in the giggling animated discussion of Leslie, Heather, and Patti. The five young ladies blushed and smiled as Ms Green teasingly informed them she'd be keeping an eye on them in her home room.
Everyone raved over Bobbi Jo and Tammy's prissy little girlishness. The youngsters glowed and behaved even more girlishly in response as they ate up the praise.
The ladies also praised Candi and her forced transformation. Her sultry sexuality showed through her maid's uniform as did her subservient obedient nature and desire to please her mistress Cassandra.
The Victorian Tea was a great success. The women decided to hold monthly teas and to form an association dedicated to be proactive advocates for women and children. A sideline would be the feminization of males. After the Victorian Tea concluded, everyone stayed to organize themselves. Grace Henry was elected coordinator. Judge Diane Lymaster, attorney at law, Laurie Gates, lieutenant of detectives with the county police, and Ms Judy Winter, Judge of the county courts agreed to draw up a charter to form a corporation. Dr. Trate agreed to slide her practice under the wings of the new enterprise as did attorney Lymaster. Olivia Childress agreed to slide FairyTale Fashions under the canopy of the new enterprise as did Lydia Waters with Water's Systems. Hillary announced that Balkut Engineering was planning to expand due to rapid increases in business and would be designing a new office complex that could easily support all the various divisions the new enterprise would need to accomplish it's goals.
The women would each buy into the new enterprise, either with cash, an existing business, sweat equity, or a combination of those three. They wanted a name that would denote their goals yet seem innocuous and easily explainable. Several Acronyms were suggested and rejected. They all had a good laugh when Olivia suggested thy call themselves Cass Trate Enterprises. Unfortunately that name was too easily translated to reveal one of their true goals. The animated discussion continued. Finally it was Leslie who provided the answer.
The five teenagers had been listening to the conversation when Heather reminded Leslie about the word play on Dr. Trate's name... Cass Trate. Patti giggled until she almost turned blue, then looked at Leslie with her head cocked.
"Leslie, your name does that too," Patti giggled. "Balkut... ball cut!"
"I know,"Leslie giggled in response. "That came up during a conversation I had with my mother and Dr. Trate while Heather was recovering from her surgery. Heather and I have talked about it too."
For Allie and Jamie, the candid discussion was hitting just a bit too close to home since they had been castrated just the day before. The new sisters felt their stomachs churning as they thought about their loss.
"I don't think Allie and Jamie are quite ready to joke about such things," Heather stated in a serious tone. "But it is too good an idea to pass up. I really think you should tell the adults."
"Yes, I think I should," Leslie agreed. "After all, if we're to be part of this we should have some rights to voice our opinions and ideas."
Leslie stood and raised her hand. "I have something to say," she announced in a quavering voice.
Slowly everyone grew quiet and all eyes turned to her. Hillary and Joyce in particular eyed her brazen interruption.
"You know I was a boy but have always lived as a girl," Leslie stated nervously. "Thanks to Dr. Trate, I'm a girl now. She Cass Trated me."
The laughter that filled the room was genuine and not derisive.
"Let's be honest, one of the things this group wants to do is to destroy arrogant macho males," Leslie declared. "Now we certainly do not want that to become general knowledge. But we want the name of the group to indicate that possibility. A truly honest name would be The Cass Trate Group, but that's too obvious. Now I'm not tooting my own horn but I think The Balkut Group would be exactly what we want. Balkut engineering would be one of the divisions and at present is the biggest and wealthiest so it would make sense that the largest portion of new enterprise would carry over it's name due to public recognition. At the same time, the name Balkut can be reinterpreted as BALL CUT, a euphemism for castration."
The ladies were impressed by Leslie's suggestion and held a brief discussion. They accepted Leslie's suggestion. Thus the new organization became THE BALKUT GROUP.
Monday morning at St. Patrick’s, Leslie, Heather, and Patti were discussing how the four now new girls would adapt to girlhood. They all agreed being a girl was much better than being a crude boy.
“It’s really not fair,” Patti sighed. “Because I wasn’t a human and had no records, the magic was able to change me into a fully functional girl. Because you were human and had records, you’ve only been able to be changed cosmetically into girls. None of you will be able to have children.”
“I know,” Leslie sighed. “I really wish I could someday become a mother.”
“Maybe I could make a wish so all changeling girls can become real girls,” Heather suggested.
“I don’t think so,” Patti sadly replied. “Remember the restrictions:
by nature, is powered, all sorts of magic;
time is needed to avoid outcome tragic.
All sorts of magic shifts things out of balance
so adjustments, the world, must make allowance.
The bigger the wish, the longer changes take;
to avoid undo questions someone might make.”
“Well, there has to be some way to get around it,” Leslie declared.
The girls thought about the dilemma all day. During their last period study hall, Heather was busy writing. As the bell rang she put down her pencil and smiled.
“Patti, can we go over to your bedroom,” Heather asked. “I think I may have come up with the right incantation!”
A few minutes later they stood looking out Patti’s bedroom window at the ancient oak tree. The three girls held hands with Heather in the middle as she took a deep breath and began.
"Ancient druid oak tree, this wish if I may;
make changeling girls complete in every way.
Cast the transformation spell without delay;
let nature a suitable course chart the way;
let magic make them all girl, begin today!"
The branches of the old oak began to quiver and the leaves fallen about it's trunk swirled high in the air. A small tornado, much larger than any they’d previously seen, filled with swirling leaves swept across the lawn to solidly buffet Patti's bedroom window. The leaves hitting the glass created a cackly whispery voice.
"By your wish, Heather, druidic power hired;
let a changeling girl to all girl be rewired.
To stay sterile is now no longer desired;
so nature let Heather to research inspired;
to make stem cells for the ovaries required.”
The wind disappeared and the leaves fell to the ground.
The girls exchanged looks of consternation. It seemed their wish had been granted. Heather already had a healthy interest in science, and she could feel herself filling with determination and already was beginning to develop ideas. All three smiled.
Epilogue:
A multi-story multi use complex was built to house The Balkut Group was constructed next door to St. Patrick's Parochial School and Convent. BALKUT ENGINEERING continued as an engineering firm but expanded into the contracting field and built businesses, homes, and apartments specifically for women. Dr. Cassandra Trate established and headed the BALKUT MEDICAL AND RESEARCH CENTER. Her medical practice provided the core and included a complete diagnostic and surgical center. Dianne Lymaster established and headed the BALKUT LEGAL SERVICES. Her law practice formed the core and handled divorces, custody disputes, and all the legal paper work involved in legal name and sex changes. Olivia Childress established the BALKUT FASHION SERVICES. FairyTale Fashions formed the core and Stephanie Childress would take over as manager. A full service beauty salon including electrolysis and permanent make-up was established as a vital portion of this division. Ms Jeanne Green left her teaching job with St. Patrick's parochial school and established and headed the BALKUT FITNESS CENTER. This included a health and physical fitness center with a gym, track, swimming pool, tennis courts, and bowling alley. Grace Henry established and headed the BALKUT ARTS CENTER. This included classes in ballet, tap, jazz, modern, ballroom, country, and ethnic dancing as well as painting, sculpture, drawing, and acting. Vocal and instrumental music lessons were available. A choir and orchestra were formed. An auditorium with stage was provided for all types of performances. Lydia Waters established and headed BALKUT COMMUNICATIONS. Water's Systems formed the core of this computer based operation. It included telecommunications as well as recording and video operations. These specialized in how-to tapes with hidden subliminal messages. These tapes instilled self-confidence in females and subverted males.
One month before the end of the school year while the BALKUT BUILDING was being constructed, following Mother Superior Murphy's unflinching lead, the nuns at St. Patrick's defiantly but peacefully rebelled against the male-dominated church. The church hierarchy could do nothing to dissuade the good ladies nor could they silence the vocal women. Dissolving the order had no effect. Even excommunication failed to sway the pious ladies. The church faced an ugly situation due to the negative publicity. The former nuns refused to vacate the grounds of St. Patrick's and the church wanted to save face. The Balkut Group, ostentatiously seeing a way to make a cheap land buy, offered to buy the St. Patrick's complex since it was next door to their new site. The deal was sweetened when the Balkut Group agreed to buy the property as is, with the former nuns still in residence in order to speed up the acquisition. The church, seeing a way to avoid an ugly eviction and more adverse publicity, quickly agreed to sell the property. Three months after Mother Superior Murphy began her rebellion, the entire St. Patrick's complex was sold. The Balkut School was promptly established on the formerly sacred grounds and the ex-nuns were hired to operate the school. Erin Murphy became the principal and headed THE BALKUT LEARNING CENTER. The school opened in time for the new school year. The students who chose to remain enrolled never lost a day of school during the bizarre transition.
Rikki Henry and Tonia Waters joined Candi Trate to become the vivacious efficient receptionists in the main lobby of the Balkut Building that housed all the enterprises of the Balkut Group. At first impression, the trio appeared to be dizzy blondes about nineteen years old. However, their skills and talents made them highly efficient in their jobs. The three shared an apartment, clothes, and their numerous boyfriends.
Tommy Harris met Candi upon exiting prison and as Tammy Harris became a giggly sophmore cheerleader at the local public school where she dated practically every guy. After graduating she became a high energy aerobics instructress for the Balkut Fitness Center. Tammy Harris was an insatiable bi-sexual woman who lived with her mother Ellen, ex-girlfriend Linda, and former son now daughter Tammy.
Tammy Fritz grew up a most pretty prissy girl who was the cause of many boys falling under the spell of Heather's Leprechaun wish when they arrogantly teased her. After graduating from St. Patrick’s she went to law school and joined Dianne Lymaster. She eagerly filed name and sex-change paperwork.
Bobbi Jo Waters became a vivacious cheerleader who never wanted for dates. She eventually joined her mother heading Balkut Communications.
Allie and Jamie thrived as faux twin sisters and became enchanting singer/actresses.
Leslie went to medical school and joined Balkut Medical and Research Center. She eagerly transformed deserving males into females.
As for the crusty old Leprechaun who started the entire thing, well Patti Sherry O'Shea thrived as a girl and went on to become the sexy red-headed lead dancer in a very popular Irish step-dance show that is touring the world in sold-out performances.
Heather also went onto medical school, concentrating on scientific medical research. She too joined Balkut Medical and Research Center. By the time she was thirty she had developed a procedure from taking stem cells, injecting DNA from the patient, and coaxing the cells to develop into buds that could be implanted into the changelings to grow ovaries, fallopian tubes, and a uterus. The procedure was also effective on sterile genetic females. Because of her success, all the changelings could become mothers bearing their own genetic children. The only drawback was that all the children born were female.
On numerous occasions, many people have seen a certain old oak tree on the grounds of the Balkut Learning Center mysteriously sway when there is no wind...