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Sam wants a summer job in the worst way. A poster attracts his attention with an offer that might be just that!
What started out as a way to avoid heavy labor turned into something very much else! Sam takes the first steps on what may be a journey that changes his life. Is getting a good start on his college fund worth it?

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WunderGirl

Copyright© 2020 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

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~ Day 0 ~
 

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* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I look at myself in the mirror and grimace. It’s hard to believe that I turned fifteen yesterday. There’s no sign of puberty, and I look more like I’m thirteen. I’m beginning to worry, to be honest. Mom is super-model beautiful, and Dad could be Mr. Universe, he’s so buff. Both started developing on the early side of the curve, according to them, which so makes me feel better—not!

Gemma, my thirteen-year-old sister, is already well on her way to following in Mom’s beauty Goddess footsteps. Chad, my seventeen-year-old brother, started working out and bulking up at fourteen—but had obviously already hit puberty at thirteen—and could probably easily bench-press me.

I sigh and picture people at my funeral. Chad speaking my eulogy, “Poor Sam—he made it to a ripe old age. He just never made it to puberty!”

I shake my head and sigh.

Chad comes into my room and asks, “Ready, Squirt?” I sigh again—speak of the Devil. I whine, “Do we really have to do this, Chad? I don’t want a summer job—and I twice don’t want one at the lumberyard. Do I look like a lumber jack?”

He snorts, “Not likely! But you know if you want to go to college, you’re going to have to save up at least half the cost. Dad won’t budge on that! Gemma will have it easy—she’ll likely be able to win a bunch of beauty contests, like Mom, and rake in the easy cash. The most she’ll have to do is get a job as an ‘aide’ for Mom at the factory, if that doesn’t pan out. You and me, though—well, you know that Dad expects us to earn it the hard way.”

He adds with a smirk and a wink, “Besides, I don’t think you have quite the assets for a beauty win, any more than a body-building contest.”

I groan and pull on my sneakers. This is just so unfair! But I haven’t found anything else that would pay as well as old Mr. Rollings at the lumberyard. It’s a combination lumberyard and sawmill—there are actual lumberjacks that work there!

I dejectedly follow Chad to his car, and he screeches down the street in his usual way-too-fast driving manner.

I groan, “Chad! I don’t want a summer job, but I do want to live!”

He laughs and just guns it more. I close my eyes until we come to a stop and I hear him put the car in park. I open my eyes in surprise and see that we’re parked at the Quick Stop across from the WunderGirl factory where Mom works in accounting. It’s the headquarters for one of the world’s largest cosmetics companies and St. Cloud’s economic pride and joy.

I’d even rather work there than at the testosterone-filled lumberyard where I’ll be expected to do manual labor that I can’t keep up with—and will only be made fun of. All to make my summer oh so enjoyable.

Chad jumps out and says, “Hang tight, Squirt! I need to say ‘hi’ to Alice and get an Icey. Be right back!”

Alice is Chad’s newest conquest—a varsity high-school cheerleader and drop-dead gorgeous. I guess she must be hanging out here for some reason.

Left alone in the car, I look around in desperation and see a poster on the wall of the building. I can make out that it says something about an opportunity to make money. I get out of the car and curiously go over to read it.

I just get to the point that says it’s an opportunity to be a paid participant in a trial—with other potential options—at WunderGirl, and am about to turn away, when I hear someone behind me say, “Are you interested? You’d be perfect!”

 

* * * * *

Rhonda

* * * * *

 

I’m just about to give up for the day. I’ve been waiting for someone to bite on the poster for a couple of hours and, so far, there either hasn’t been any interest, or those that did go up weren’t what Dr. Greene is looking for.

Of course, Lissa thinks I’m a little crazy using a poster as bait to begin with—most of the advertising is now being done on social media. But this way, I can actually assess the person on the spot.

Just as I start to pack it in, a scrawny kid climbs out of a car to go up to the poster. I can tell he’s interested—until he reads the fine print. No matter, he’s ideal!

I quietly walk up behind him before he can turn around and ask in a friendly tone, “Are you interested? You’d be perfect!”

He turns in surprise and sort of hiccups, “Oh! Excuse me… Interested? I think they’re looking for someone else on this…” I smile—I can work with this.

I say in a smooth voice, “Well, the trial is for some new body care products. Are you worried that you’re not a girl? I mean, no offense, but you’re not, right? You’re not just a tomboy? I mean—not that it matters. The trial is for anyone—but they are actually looking for some guys…”

He jumps at that and asks, “Really? I mean, sorry—who are you? And how do you know this?”

I smile and apologize, “I’m sorry! I’m Rhonda. Rhonda Brown. I work for Dr. Greene over at WunderGirl. She’s running the trials. And you are?”

He seems dazed, but answers, “Sam. Sam Brinkley.”

I raise my eyebrow at that and inquire, “Any relation to Julia Brinkley in sales?”

He blinks and replies, “She’s my mother, yes.”

I kick one hip out in frustration. I’m not sure if that’s an issue, or not—to be honest. I decide to chance it. I ask, “So, are you interested? It’s really good money!”

He hesitates, then asks, “How much? What would I have to do?”

I smile. Bingo! Hooked!

I say in a honey-smooth voice, “Well, it depends on whether you qualify for the trial—and whether you sign up. Of course, your parents would have to sign for you… Then, there are additional opportunities for those that qualify. All-in-all, it can easily be in the high five figures, depending.”

He blinks comically and seems to be doing the math in his head—how long it would take him to make that much at a minimum-wage summer job. His eyes glaze over and he focuses back on me, as he asks, “How do I sign up?”

I smile and ask, “Do you have time to come with me?”

He says, “Just let me tell my brother…”

He goes into the store, then comes out after just a minute and leaves a note in the driver’s seat of the car before climbing into the car with me.

 

* * * * *

Melissa

* * * * *

 

I get Rhonda’s text and don’t know whether to be pissed or elated. She has a guinea pig, but it’s an employee’s kid. While that’s not necessarily an issue, it is an annoyance.

I look up Julia Brinkley’s employment history and smile. Oh, this will be easier than I thought! I make a few calls.

I’m just hanging up when Rhonda and the guinea pig come in. I put on my brightest smile and hold out my hand, “Hello, Dear. I’m Dr. Greene. Rhonda, I assume this is a prospective participant in our trial?”

She plays along perfectly and nods, “Yes, Dr. Greene. This is Sam Brinkley. Sam, this is Dr. Greene—the leader of the program I told you about.” I pick up her thread, “So, you’re interested in entering our little trial?”

He shyly shakes my hand and says, “Well, yes. I would certainly be interested. What would that mean, exactly?”

I smile sweetly and say, “Well, the basic trial would be you using certain experimental body care products. They may be the actual products—or they may be placebos. You wouldn’t know.”

He nods, so I continue, “There is a slight chance that there could be some reactions. We’ll test you to make sure you don’t have base allergies to anything, so there’s nothing life-threatening—but the whole point is to see what, if any effects there are. If you’re accepted in and make it through the whole trial—following all instructions—then you would be awarded compensation of ten thousand dollars.”

His eyes widen and I finish, “Depending on how things go, we might offer you other opportunities that could significantly increase that amount.”

I let that all settle in. He seems to be looking for a job of some sort. His best option would normally be at the lumberyard, making a dollar above minimum wage—doing hard labor.

I wait a beat then set the hook, “Still interested?”

He literally stutters, “Y…y…yes, Ma’am. B…b…but don’t my p…p…parents have to ap…p…rove?”

I smile and say, “Let me worry about your mother. You just sit down right in here and take this test for me…”

I take him to my conference room and hand him a standardized psychological profile test and pencil.

I go back to my office and close the door, then call his mother on the number in her file. She answers on the third ring and I say, “Julia? This is Lissa Greene from R&D at WG. I have your son here and he’s interested in entering the body care trial, to be compensated at the standard rate. Assuming he passes the entrance tests—psychological, blood, and allergen—I need to know that you will sign the paperwork. You’re being a WG employee is not a conflict in this instance.”

I hear silence for a bit, then finally she says, “Say what, now? Chad wants to enter the trial?”

I fight a frustrated gurgle and respond, “Sorry! No, this relates to Sam?”

There’s a gasp and she says, “But he’s only fifteen. It would be bad enough it were Chad!”

I sigh and say, “Actually, he seems to be the perfect subject for what we need—again, assuming there are no red flags in the testing. His age is not a factor—and whether he gets a placebo, or not, he would be compensated with an honorarium of ten grand. Do you really think he could make that at the lumberyard? He seems to be looking for some sort of summer employment.”

She hiccups and says, “Well, that would be a perfect start to his college fund. My husband insists that the kids contribute. There’s no danger is there?”

I assuage her fears, “Not at all. Like I told your son, we’re simply checking to see if the body care products do what they are designed to do. They are a completely new line, however—not just a reformulation—that’s why we’re going through full testing. The allergen testing will ensure that there are no life-threatening allergies to the product.”

I add the sugar. “There is also potentially the option for other contracts with WG, moving forward—maybe even some marketing contracts. You know what that means—I think you’ve been trying to get into that yourself? I could maybe pull some strings. If that would help sweeten the pot. I would really love to have Sam on the trial.”

I hear her catch her breath and know that I’ve caught my fish. I add on, “But, Julia—if he signs on to this, I need you to help me make sure that he follows all instructions to a ‘T’—and finishes the trial. He won’t get a penny if he doesn’t—and it will cost me a lot of money for nothing. There would also be other penalties for breaking the contract if that were to happen.”

She says, “Give him the tests and I’ll talk to Gary. Assume that we’ll sign. Do you need me to come over?”

I grin and reply, “Yes, if you could drop by in an hour, it would be great—assuming that I don’t give you a call that he failed one of the entrance tests.”

I call Ginny to set up for the allergy test, baseline measurements, and ‘before’ pictures. Then I go in to see about his progress on the psych profile. He’s done with the exam, so I hand him off to Ginny to administer her tests and then for Becky to take the pictures.

I take his profile sheet and quickly scan it into the test reader, then check the results. They’re perfect!

Thirty minutes later, Ginny buzzes me to let me know that there are no issues with allergies and that the baseline tests, bloodwork, and pictures are done. I go to her lab and tell him, “Your parents are on the way, Sam. You’ve passed the entrance tests. So, while we’re waiting for them to come sign the contract, Ginny can tell you about the products that you’ll be using. I’ll leave you with her, and we’ll meet you back in the conference room. OK?”

 

* * * * *

Ginny

* * * * *

 

Lissa leaves me alone with our newest test subject. I first check with Becky to make sure she’s good with the pictures, which she is. Then, I smile at him and say, “Well, the good news is that you didn’t have any reactions to the products! So, now let me tell you what you will be doing in the trial.”

I take out several opaque plastic bottles and jars in different colors. They each have a colored label printed with the content in large font, like ‘body wash’, ‘shampoo’, ‘conditioner’, and so on. The labels also have instructions on them for how to use the products.

I hold up the bottles containing the shampoo and conditioner and look at his dirty-blonde hair. Then I refocus on his brown eyes as I explain, “Shampoo and conditioner. Nothing magic about them. Use them both daily on any hair above your neck. Lather with shampoo and wait sixty seconds—you may or may not feel some tingling. Rinse and repeat.”

I hold up the other bottle. “The conditioner is the leave-in variety. When you’re done showering, towel-dry your hair and massage this in. Again, use it on any hair above your neck—and leave it in. Do not rinse it out!”

I pick up the body wash and a scrubby and explain, “Body wash. Use daily. Scrub hard everywhere below the neck. Don’t get it on your face, or near your eyes! Again, some tingling is possible and nothing to worry about.”

I pick up the face wash, headband, eyedrops, day and night creams. I focus on his eyes again and say, “This is for your face and neck. Pull your hair back from your face and hold it back with the hairband.”

I demonstrate and continue, “Wash it with this every morning and night. You use the day cream in the morning and the night cream before bed. You also use the eyedrops every morning and night—they’ll totally get the red out!” I giggle, although, I know he won’t get it.

I add, “Again, tingling possible with the wash. Some slight stinging with the drops is also possible. Let us know if it really stings, though. Do not stop using unless we tell you to, however!”

I finally pick up the body lotion and say, “Body lotion—everywhere below the neck after your daily shower. Tingling possible.”

I hand him the card with the special YouTube channel and my number, then say, “Under no circumstances are you to use any body care products other than what we provide you during the trial. If you have any questions or need any more product, just call me. There are also videos at that address that demonstrate everything in detail. Your Mom would also be a good source of information, I’m sure. Any questions for now?”

He looks like he was just dumped down the rabbit hole. He doesn’t get a chance to ask any questions, though. Lissa buzzes me to bring him to her conference room. I simply say, “Come on—your parents are here. I’ll bag your things up for you and bring them over before you leave.”

 

* * * * *

Julia

* * * * *

 

I hang up with Dr. Greene as confused as I am excited. It’s our day off and Gary looks at me—waiting for an explanation. I’m just about to clarify when Chad walks in—alone.

I give him an angry look and leave Gary hanging while I ask, “Would you care to explain where your brother is, young man? I thought you were taking him to the lumberyard?”

He fidgets and mumbles, “He just…left…me!”

I look at him—you know with a ‘Mom’ look—and ask, “Did he now? And you just let him go off on his own? Did you even know he was gone?”

Gary breaks in completely confused and frustrated, “Will someone tell me what’s going on? Chad, where is your brother?”

He groans and whines, “I was only in the Quick Stop for about fifteen minutes. Alice texted that she was there getting an Icey. When I came out, the little twerp had ditched me. He left this note on my seat—something about finding another job.”

I say, “Well, you can just dream of kissing Alice for a week. You’re grounded!”

He explodes, “What? Why? It’s not like he’s really only thirteen like he looks for Chrissake! He’s fifteen!”

Gary chimes in and backs me up—thank goodness! He angrily says, “That may well be—but you just let him go off on his own without even bothering. Make that two weeks for being disrespectful to your mother!”

He stomps off, and I just look at Gary, then finally explain, “That was Dr. Greene from R&D—research and development—at WG. It seems our son is over there applying to be a paid participant in the new body care trial. I knew they were desperate to get guys in on the trial but also very picky about who they let in. Anyway, she seems to think Sam is a good candidate.”

He shakes his head and says, “I really want him to do something that will kickstart his body. Some manual labor will do him good!”

It’s my turn to shake my head as I say, “Listen, Gary! I know what those participants get paid—ten K just for making it through the trial. And he could get a placebo just as much as the actual products. The worst that can happen is that he’ll wind up with healthy hair and skin. Either way, he can’t make that at the lumberyard.”

He grumbles, and I add, “Plus, Dr. Greene seems to want him. She offered to go to bat for me to get a modeling job! You know I’ve been after that for years! It would be a huge boost in pay!”

He seems to be softening and asks, “Well…OK. That would be great! I guess… I mean is there any reason he can’t do both? This trial and work at the lumberyard?”

I shrug and reply, “I don’t know. We can ask—we need to be there in about thirty minutes to sign the papers.”

 

* * * * *

Gary

* * * * *

 

I pull into the parking lot that Julia guides me to and am still wondering how this is going to go. Do I really want my son entering some product trial at a cosmetics company? Even if it is the one my wife works for, and even if it is just for body care products—I mean, at least it’s not for cosmetics, per se.

I look over at Julia as I put the car in park, and she shrugs. I follow her inside and down some corridors with signs indicating that we are walking towards the R&D Department.

She knocks on a door that has a name plate with the wording, “Dr. Melissa Greene, Director,” on it.

We enter without waiting on a response, and I see a young woman in a white lab coat sitting in a glass-walled conference room. She stands up when she sees us and waves us into the room with her.

She introduces herself as Dr. Greene and says, “Please call me Lissa. I have Ginny bringing Sam back here now that she is finished with him.” She gestures towards a counter that has refreshments on it and asks, “Would you like some coffee or a soda?”

Julia declines but I pour myself a cup of coffee and am taking the first careful sip of the steaming hot brew when another elderly woman in a lab coat comes in with a blushing Sam.

I just look at him and Julia says, “Well, there you are! We’ll talk about your disappearance later, young man! Now, Lissa, what do we need to do?”

She looks at Julia and smiles, “Well, Sam passed all the prerequisite exams with flying colors. There were no red flags on his psych profile, no allergies, his bloodwork is perfect, and we have done all of the other baseline work, including pictures. Ginny will also have gone through what is expected of him, right Ginny?”

The older woman nods, and Lissa looks back at Julia and says, “So, all we need to do is finalize the paperwork.”

I look at Sam and am still not sure about this, so I ask, “I just have one question first. I’m still not sure about all of this. I understand that it’s good money and there is little risk.” I pause and add, “Right?”

She nods and says, “There is no greater risk of harm than any other product on the market, if that is what you’re asking. And, yes, it’s very good money for what is expected.”

I nod and say, “That’s just my point. I want Sam to learn the value of money. This seems too easy. Now, he would be stupid to turn down easy money, I suppose—as long as it’s legitimate and legal—but I still want him to learn the value of work. So, is there any reason he can’t do this and work at the lumberyard?”

Sam blows out a frustrated gasp of air, and I give him a look to let him know I don’t want to hear it.

She, in turn, gives me an absolutely vile look—but it disappears just as quickly as it appeared. She takes a deep breath and asks, “Not that it’s any of my business, Gary, but have you looked at your son? Do you really think he will be able to do much at the lumberyard?”

There’s a pregnant pause before she continues, “But to answer your question—it depends. I have a couple of versions of the contract—which Sam decides on will also impact your wife. In any case, none of them should impede him from working at another job over the summer—with the understanding that the trial comes first if there are any conflicts. He will be required—at the very least—to come in for weekly tests and follow-ups. We don’t just throw money at people, you know. It is, in part, as compensation for their time.”

I feel my face burn at her seeming reprimand. I ignore it—for now—and ask, “What about these options—and how do they affect Julia?”

She gives me a sickly-sweet smile and pointedly looks at Julia, “That, Gary, is between your wife and WG. Now, Julia, are you still interested in modeling for the company?”

Julia looks at me and gives me an embarrassed shrug before turning back to answer Greene, “Yes, Lissa. Very much so. But I agree with Gary—what does that have to do with Sam’s contract?”

She smiles more genuinely at Julia and replies, “Well—your contracts would be somewhat intertwined. Sam’s basic contract would be for one year—to include the trial. That means all of the testing of products, follow-ups with him, and documentation. There is a standard clause put in all contracts that leaves pulling participants into marketing as an option and requires them to check with us before doing anything that would negatively impact the marketability of our products.”

She nods—as do I. That makes sense. She continues, “Now, we could modify Sam’s contract to explicitly include marketing options, if circumstances are favorable. I’m not at liberty to guarantee that Sam would be pulled into marketing strategies, but this would put him first in line, if and when we are ready, and he fits our need. This would mean ten percent more money up front, but it would also mean that we would control certain aspects of Sam’s life—specifically his appearance.”

Sam sort of gurgles—and I can’t blame him—but Julia ignores him and continues, “Go on…”

She nods and says, “If you choose that option and can guarantee that Sam will fully participate in the trial, follow all instructions, complete it, and be available at a moment’s notice to step into any marketing campaigns we need him to, then I am authorized to offer you a modeling contract starting at fifty percent over your current salary.”

I feel my eyes widen, and she continues, “You and Sam likely would be pulled into certain campaigns together—which is why I said the contracts are intertwined. I’m afraid that yours is contingent on his. To be honest, though—not the other way around. Sam could enter in the expanded contract without you signing the modeling one, yourself. Not that I would expect that.”

Sam just gurgles some more, and I’m right there with him. Before I can say anything, though, Julia steps in and says, “OK. I’m in. I will guarantee that Sam will fulfill his contractual obligations—I will personally supervise his product usage. Where do we sign?”

It’s my turn to gurgle, but wind up signing Sam’s contract on the dotted line right next to hers. I know that look and there’s no sense arguing.

A smug Julia leads a befuddled Sam and me out the front door after the older woman, Ginny, gets him a large bag full of the test products to take home and sets up his follow-up meeting for a week from now.

We all get in the car and I blow out my air and exclaim, “OK, I don’t know what just happened in there! But we’re going to stop by the lumberyard and get Sam signed up for a real summer job. Whatever needs to be done for…this…whatever…is up to you two! I wash my hands of it!”

Totally pissed, I put the car into drive and ignore the discussion between the two as I drive to the lumberyard. WunderGirl, indeed! That’s just no place for my son to work!

---

Sam's first day of using the WunderGirl products. Yippee. And his first day of working in the sawmill. Hooray. If his attitude didn't stink maybe his outlook would seem less shitty?

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WunderGirl

Copyright© 2020 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

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~ Day 1 ~
 

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* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I groan as Mom wakes me up at six to get ready for work—at the stupid lumberyard. She’s going to drive me and drop me off on her way to work. I turn over in bed and pull the covers over my head. She just pulls them all off the bed, leaving me completely coverless.

She’s all bright and cheery as she exclaims, “OK, Sam—enough procrastinating! Up and at ‘em! You can shower after your day at the lumberyard since there’s no doubt that you will just get dirty there anyway. So, for now, you just need to wash your face and moisturize with the day cream—oh, and don’t forget the eyedrops! I’ll supervise—now, get to it!”

I hate this! It’s summer—I shouldn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn! OK, so dawn was a while back, but still!

I shouldn’t have to go to work at some crappy job that I’m not in any way, shape, or form cut out for! What happened to being a kid and enjoying summer? Aren’t there child labor laws?

Then it sinks in what she said… Right… There’s the trial on top of the lumberyard. That thing that I did agree to. Without all the labor—or having to get up at the crack of dawn!

Well, I mean I sort of agreed to it—just not the way it wound up turning out after Mom got involved.

She made me watch all of the YouTube videos with her last night and then she quizzed me on everything—three times! What have I gotten myself into?

Mom on my case about doing this trial stuff—and Dad on my case about the lumberyard.

Chad thinks it’s all hilarious. Of course, he’s still royally pissed that he’s grounded—and he totally blames me for it. I don’t feel one bit sorry for him, though. Not really. He’s the one that left me alone! I mean, sure—it worked out for me with getting in on the trial. Well, like I said—sort of until Mom got involved. I’m still not sure what I’ve been signed up for now.

Anyway, it’s not my fault that I was willing to think outside the box!

When Gemma found out what happened, she was both excited and mad that I got into the trial. She mostly seems to be just be jealous—she keeps trying to steal the experimental products. Mom had to get on to her twice last night when she tried to sneak off with the night cream.

At any rate, according to Ginny’s instructions, I was not supposed to start yesterday, which she called ‘day zero’, because she wants me to only do full-day ‘treatments’—so today is officially ‘day one’ of my trial.

I shake my head to wake up before I start running the water to get it warm. I had no idea that using body care products was so complicated! I thought I was just going to use some body wash and shampoo. Those videos made a huge deal of applying things correctly—with dire warnings about making sure I use things only on the proper body parts and in the correct order.

It sounded like there would be catastrophic consequences if I don’t follow the instructions. I have no idea what those might be, but Mom made sure that I fully understand the process with all of her quizzing.

I let the running water get slightly lukewarm like the video said, although, I guess I could also just use it cold—which is how Mom said she does it herself. I have no idea what difference it makes.

Mom scrutinizes my technique as I wash my face in the prescribed circular motions, following that with splashes of water to rinse it clean. It does tingle and feels kind of funny. I gently pat my face dry with a towel and notice that my skin now feels really tight.

I move the muscles around in my face to try and stretch the skin, but it doesn't help. Then Mom watches me apply the day cream. I once again follow the instructions on the video—I take out a small amount with a finger, spread and warm it in my palms, and carefully apply it to my face by pressing my palms into it and kind of stretching my skin with the pressure. It tingles stronger and feels some sort of funny—but nice.

The moisture from the cream seems to help with the tightness in my skin, which is a relief! The tightness was disconcerting.

After finishing with the washing and moisturizing, I get the eyedrops and hand them to Mom with a shrug. Eventually, I will get to where I can put them in on my own, but for now she helps me put them in.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was certainly not what I got! I loudly gasp when the first one goes in.

It stings like crap! I mean, I’m seriously worried about going blind!!!

Before I can complain, she has already put the drop into my other eye, and I squeeze both eyes tightly shut in utter agony as torrents of tears stream down my face. It continues to sting, and I jump up and down and bite my tongue to keep from cussing—Mom hates it when I do that! Finally, I gripe, “Mom! That really stings!”

She takes a deep breath and asks, “Well, on a scale of one to ten—how bad?”

I try and give her a look, but my eyes are still watering and a flood of tears is streaming from them. Really? Can't she see my reaction? I retort, “Well, if ‘one’ equals a ‘tickle my eye with a feather’ and ‘ten’ equals a ‘burn my eye out with molten lava’—probably, at least a five or six.”

She giggles and says, “Sorry, that was a funny analogy, but quite descriptive! I’ll ask Ginny about it when I get to work. As long as it’s not molten lava!” She giggles again.

I sigh, “She said something weird about ‘getting the red out’—this feels like it’s putting the red in! As in red-hot fire!” More giggling from her and another attempt at a disdainful look—still without any luck.

After a few minutes, the stinging finally stops, and I scrutinize at my eyes in the mirror. I pull my eyelids apart and fully expect to see molten eyeball! Everything looks fine—not a bit of red in sight. They’re bright white! Like porcelain.

I shrug in resigned relief—I don’t get the need!

I take one last look and am happy to confirm that my vision seems fine, so I finish getting dressed. As I do, I notice that the tingling in my face is slowly subsiding. I sigh as I try and ignore all of the weird feelings and go down to get breakfast.

Now, if only the dread of going to the lumberyard would go away like the tingling—I just can’t ignore that!

 

* * * * *
Julia
* * * * *
 

I get ready after supervising Sam wash and moisturize his face. I’m a little worried about the eyedrops stinging like he says they do. I couldn’t help but giggle at his ‘lava’ scale, but he seemed to be OK, I just make a note to check with Ginny and see if we need to adjust anything.

I look over at Gary—he's still asleep. He’s working the closing shift at the car dealership today. Chad goes in later to the lumberyard, as well—also working the store there to closing. So, I’m going to go into work a little early and drop Sam off at the lumberyard. That will give me a chance to stop by R&D and talk to Ginny.

She said she starts early, so I will have time to run things by her.

After we eat, I usher Sam to the car and drop him off ten minutes before he's scheduled to start. I know he’s not excited about this—and I can’t blame him. He gets out of the car like I’m sending him to his own funeral. He’s just not cut out for hard labor like they will expect from him at a sawmill—at least not until puberty finally finds him.

I watch him slowly walk into the building, then drive on into work wondering what my day will bring! This is my first day in the new job and I’m going to be a busy girl learning the new ropes. Marketing is so much different than sales. I didn’t become one of the top employees in sales by not doing what it takes, though. Sometimes, I think that is why they’ve resisted me moving into the Marketing & Modeling Department.

I was too good at what I did—not that you could tell by what they paid me, though.

I can’t help but grin, though. Things are going to change now! It’s hard to believe it took Sam to make that happen, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth! I know I pushed him into a more-involved contract than he anticipated, but what can it harm? Like they’re going to want him to model!

I giggle at the thought and take the detour to R&D on the way to my new office area in search of Ginny. As promised, she’s in her lab and I wave to her through the glass doors. She waves back at me and motions for me to come in.

I exude early morning cheer with my current mood, “Good morning, Ginny! How’s it going?”

She smiles and says, “Good morning, Julia! Ready to start that new position?”

I smile back and gush, “Oh, gosh, yes! I can’t wait even though I am a little nervous! I've wanted to do this since I started here! Anyway, I have a quick question for you from Sam.”

She pours us a cup of coffee and I tell her about his issues with the drops. She guffaws at his ‘lava’ scale, then purses her lips in thought as she says, “Well, we have found that the drops can sting more at first, then get better as the subjects’ eyes adjust to them. Generally, that just means that the person has very dry eyes, which is partially what the drops are for. As the drops help with the symptoms of the dry eyes, the stinging gets better. Keep me posted if it’s not any better by day five—or if it gets worse. Otherwise, I’ll be sure and follow up with him in our next weekly check-in.”

I promise to do so and leave her to nervously go report to my new boss, Greta Garner.

I walk into my new department several minutes later, since it’s quite a walk. Greta is already in—even though it’s still early—and greets me with a bright smile, “Good morning, Julia! Ready to be our newest WunderGirl?”

I giggle enthusiastically and nod—and she pulls me straight into my induction. Like any WunderGirl, I’ll be trained in marketing, but also to do cosmetics modeling for the company—along with being contracted out for any type of commercial modeling shoot.

 

* * * * *
Mr. Rollings
* * * * *
 

I look up as Sam Brinkley gets out of his mother’s car and screw up my face in bewilderment.

To be honest, if Gary wasn’t such a good friend and Chad such a good employee, I would have outright laughed when Gary brought him in for a job. There’s no way I can have him working out in the yard or running the saws for any number of reasons.

I’m honestly totally at a loss as to what to do with him. Maybe I can use him just to sweep up and make coffee and stuff. I think I’m basically going to pay him good money for little output.

I watch him dejectedly walk towards the door. He would certainly make a better girl with his stature. I mean look at him! He looks like he’s maybe thirteen—Chad was already well into puberty at the age Sam looks. And Sam is two years older than he seems.

I shake my head—he’ll likely only be able to handle typical jobs that I would give the occasional girl that insists on working around here. Of course, I pay them only minimum wage—and they get fewer hours. Sam will be getting a dollar more and working more hours than I would give a girl. Of course, he’s only fifteen, which means I’m restricted on what I can have him do by law, anyway—not that I didn’t let Chad work the saws at that age.

He finally slinks up to me and has a mixture of a glum and sour look on his face. It’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to be here anymore than I really have a need for him. He’s going to have a tough time with the guys—at least they typically flirt with the girls.

I’ll have to watch out what I let him do—I don’t need a lawsuit because he got hurt doing an everyday chore that a boy his age should be able to handle. Heck! I’ve had girls here that could probably do more than he’ll be able to!

He mutters glumly, “Good morning, Mr. Rollings. What do you want me to start with?”

I put on a forced smile and scratch my head. This is going to be more of a challenge than I first even thought. If this is going to be his attitude on top of everything else, I don’t know how it’s going to work. Finally, I ask, “Do you know how to make coffee? No? Of course, you don’t… Well, you’re getting ready to learn. And smile for Chrissake! I’ve seen lumberjacks cut into their legs with an ax have happier faces than yours!”

I’m not sure, but I think he rolls his eyes. He does attempt to smile—sort of. It may be a grimace. I’m not sure!

Jimmy, my son, comes in before I can say anything else and sees Sam. He blurts out, “What’re you doing here, Squirt? Your brother doesn’t start until later since he’s closing tonight.”

That’s just what I need, my son egging on his foul mood.

I admonish him, “Jimmy! Stop torturing the help! Just because you’re my son—and he’s your best friend’s brother doesn’t give you the right to call him names! Now, show him how to make coffee. Then—I guess he can at least learn to count logs, or something…”

I shake my head and leave him with Jimmy. I need to check my liability policy again—just in case.

 

* * * * *
Chad
* * * * *
 

I get to the lumberyard a few minutes early. I’m still pissed at my little squirt of a brother. I’m only allowed to drive straight to work and then straight home for the next two weeks. I mean, I will have to get gas, though—so, I’ll be able to sneak in a visit with Alice. And if she happens to come by the lumberyard store to look for some hardware, is that my fault?

But the Squirt is still in for it! I can’t believe he didn’t say anything to me at the Quick Mart before he disappeared! OK, so what if I was busy kissing Alice? Couldn't he wait a few minutes? Just leaving that note and going off with a total stranger like that. I really do have an idiot for a brother!

I shake my head as I walk into the main building where I run into Jimmie coming out of the break room. He snorts when he sees me, “Hey, Bro. The Squirt’s outside. I had no idea he was going to work here. Is it some sort of joke your Dad’s pulling? He said he was making him.”

I groan, “No. And I wound up getting grounded over the whole the thing!” I tell him about all the strange goings on yesterday.

Jimmie snorts, “You mean he’s actually in a cosmetics trial? Wait until the guys hear about this!”

I shake my head and plead, “Leave it alone, Jimmie! I’m pissed at him, and he’s going to pay! But he’s going to have it hard enough around here as it is. Which will spill over to me with Mom and Dad—they’ll somehow put it on me to watch out for him. You know how the guys out there can be!”

He shakes his head back and says, “OK. Maybe you’re right. I mean, so far, all he’s done today is make coffee—terrible coffee at that—and count logs. I’m supposed to have him sweep up in here before he leaves. Basically, Dad has him doing things he would if he had a girl. I’m surprised he’s not paying him like one.”

I shrug, “Well, it wasn’t my idea to have him work here! My Dad’s just so weird about it. He thinks it will make him man up. As much as I hate to stick up for the Squirt—it’s not his fault he’s lacking in the hormone department. After yesterday, I’m not sure about the brains department. Anyway, what do I know? Maybe Dad knows something, and this will somehow kick-start some major development and he’ll bulk up.”

I watch him struggle to climb up on a pile of logs and mark them as he counts them.

I shake my head in wonder. The wisdom of my father truly escapes me at the moment.

 

* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

The day drags on. I’m scheduled to work eight hours today—and since I’m only fifteen, I can’t work more than thirty hours a week, so I’m just scheduled for two eight-hour shifts and two seven-hour ones a week.

Mr. Rollings seems as happy to have me here as I am to be here. In other words, we seem to agree on one thing—I don’t belong here. I overheard Jimmie muttering something about his Dad having me doing the girls’ jobs. I’m not sure what that means, though. I’m sure it wasn’t a compliment.

My duties, so far, have been to make sure the coffee pot stays full and to count logs. It’s been about as stimulating as watching paint dry! An hour before my shift is supposed to end, Jimmie comes to find me on a pile of logs. I nearly fall off and he has to catch me to keep me from breaking my leg—or neck.

I grumpily thank him and he says, “Careful, Squirt! Good thing you’re light! Anyway, grab that push broom and sweep up around saw number one—we’re done with it for the day. When you get that all spiffy and loaded in the composter, you can sweep the store—however far you get until your time is up.”

I sigh and get the broom. I grudgingly start sweeping up the piles of sawdust. It’s also harder than you would think—the piles of sawdust are really deep. I get the last pile loaded into the wheelbarrow and dumped in the composter and groan. I’m sticky with sweat and covered in itchy dust. This is what my summer is going to be like? Really?

I give the composter one final glaring look as I sneeze and go inside to start sweeping the store. I move the dirt around until the clock finally hits four thirty and I can clock out. I take a deep breath and go out to wait for Mom to come pick me up—still sweaty and uncomfortable.

She pulls up at a quarter to five and I wearily climb into the car. I close the door and send out a silent prayer that I won’t have to go back tomorrow.

Mom cheerily asks, “So, how was your first day, Hon?” I just give her a sour look and retort, “Just great. How was yours?”

Either she doesn’t get my sarcasm, or she chooses to ignore it. She gushes, “Awesome! I learned a lot about marketing and did some practice modeling. What did they have you do?”

I tell her about my crappy jobs for the day and she pats my knee sympathetically as she says, “Well, it was just your first day. Maybe it will get better. When we get home, you need to hit the shower and make sure you use you use your products. I almost didn’t let you in the car!” She giggles.

She then tells me what Ginny said about the eyedrops and I sigh, “Dry eyes? Well, yeah—with all of the sawdust flying around today, they felt irritated, but I’ve never noticed it being an issue before. She’s sure it will get better?”

Mom shakes her headShe thinks so. We’ll just have to keep an eye on it!” She winks and I groan at her terrible pun.

As soon as we get home, I run up to my bathroom to take a shower and get all the itchy sawdust off. I use all the products as directed and step out of the shower tingling all over. It’s really strong—almost unpleasant even. But pleasant at the same time. It’s hard to explain.

My scalp is tingling so bad, it almost itches. I try and ignore it as I rub in the body lotion everywhere below my neck, as instructed. That just further increases the tingling and I feel like my skin is crawling, but I’m starting to get more used to it. In any case, by the time supper rolls around, the tingling has sort of slowly faded to a faint background feeling.

Mom and I eat alone and then I go to my room to play video games.

When Dad gets home around eight, I have to come down to tell him about my day—he’s much less sympathetic about my plight than Mom was, and I just grumble and go back to my room when he finally has enough of torturing me with how good this will be for me.

I’m in the middle of an intense battle when Mom knocks on my door at ten and says, “Time to wash your face and hit the hay, Hon. I’ll be getting you up at six again.”

I sigh and shut down my game before going into my bathroom to repeat the procedure from this morning—only with the night cream. The eyedrops still feel like a hot poker in my eye, but I guess that’s better than hot, molten lava.

Right?

---

Sam is led deeper into transformation into a WunderGirl! Is there no way out? And is he beginning to like what is happening?

---

 

WunderGirl

Copyright© 2020 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

---

 
 
~ Day 7 ~
 

---

 

* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I get out of the shower and towel off my hair, then massage in the conditioner. I’m tingling all over as I’ve come to expect, and I’ve gotten used to it. Actually, I’ve gotten to really like the feeling—I even look forward to it. It makes me feel, well…alive.

The one thing that I’ve missed this week, though, is plain old bar soap. There are just some places where body wash isn’t as effective. I’ve made a note to ask Ginny if there is any in the experimental lineup that I can use.

I absent-mindedly wash my face and use the day cream, then put in my eyedrops. I’ve finally gotten to where I can do that myself and the face washing and moisturizing is becoming second nature, so Mom doesn’t supervise me anymore. It’s also a relief that the drops don’t sting too bad anymore—just a two or three on the lava scale.

I look at myself in the mirror and once again notice that while the whites of my eyes continue to remain bright white, there are small greenish ‘flecks’ appearing in the brown part of my eyes. My eyelashes seem…thicker, too.

I’ve also noticed that my hair has grown a lot—about as much in the past week as I would normally expect in a month. I was already in need of a haircut a couple of weeks ago and put it off just to piss Dad off for making me work over the summer, but I never intended for it to get long—and now it completely covers my ears! And, the roots are bright…red and much darker than my normal dirty blonde. It looks like I have bleached my hair in the past and it’s growing back out red.

It all kind of freaks me out and I need to ask Ginny about it. Mom doesn’t seem too concerned, so maybe I’m just being paranoid. Like I said, at least she isn’t watching me use the products like a hawk, anymore.

I sigh and finish getting ready since I’m riding in with her to WG for my check-in meeting with Ginny today. That means it’s my ‘day off’ from the lumberyard since I only work four days a week, anyway. If nothing else, that is a blessing!

I’m quiet on the ride in with Mom. She’s been in a really good mood ever since I entered the trial, and she got her new job. She chatters away about what it takes to be a model and I feign interest. I mean, why would I care about how to model makeup—or women’s clothes—for some photo shoot? I don’t know what she’s thinking! It’s like she thinks I’m Gemma.

I think about the job at the lumberyard while nodding at her chattering. It sucks! Dad hasn’t relented any either. The guys there haven’t been terrible—even Jimmie has been OK. But I feel so useless and I can’t over the feeling that Old Man Rollins sort of doesn’t know what to do with me. I wish he would just tell Dad it’s not working out.

Mom pulls into her spot and is still chattering away—completely oblivious to my inattention. She puts the car in park, and we get out—and she keeps it up all the way into the building! She walks with me to Ginny’s lab and comes in with me, still chattering like I’m her daughter, or something.

Ginny sees us enter and exclaims, “Good morning, Sam! Hi, Julia! How are you both?”

I don’t get a word in edgewise while Mom chatters a few minutes, with Ginny just nodding and smiling like I have been doing. Then she finally breaks in and says, “I really need to get to work on the tests with Sam here, Julia! I don’t want you to be late!”

Thankfully, she takes the hint and leaves us to go to work, herself.

 

* * * * *
Ginny
* * * * *
 

I’m glad to see Sam and am ready to get right to work on his check-in test, but Julia is in an immensely chatty mood this morning! I finally have to break in, “I really need to get to work on the tests with Sam here, Julia! I don’t want you to be late!”

She doesn’t take offense and just smiles, “OK! I know you’re busy. Sam, just come to the M&M Department when you’re done! Have fun, you two!”

And she’s off!

Sam just looks at me with a sort of frazzled expression and exclaims, “Wow! She’s been that way ever since she got that new job. But—what is the M&M Department? You make candy here?”

I laugh and say, “No! That’s the Marketing and Modeling Department.”

He nods his head, then transitions to shaking it. I giggle and ask, “So, how have things been going? Has it gotten better with your eyes?”

He goes into a list of things that concern him and I bite my lip to keep from smiling. The products seem to be working extremely well on him if he’s already noticing results, himself!

I say, “OK. Let’s take some measurements and then get you in to see Becky for your week one pictures.”

I have him take a seat and draw blood first, then have him strip to his underwear to start taking body measurements. Finally, I measure the length of his hair—it’s grown a full inch in just a week. That is the equivalent of a month’s growth under normal circumstances. Outstanding! And it’s growing in a beautiful shade of red—as planned. We had considered black—for a more Gothic look, but decided on red in the end.

I mark down all of the measurements as he gets dressed and say, “Well, I don’t see any surprises, yet. Let me check your eyes, then we’ll go see Becky.”

I look into his eyes with a light and see the flecking that I expected after his comments, but normally would not have expected to be this visible for another couple of weeks. His lashes are also visibly much thicker and slightly longer.

I I take a couple of samples for measuring and decide I can add the serum that Joyce requested ahead of schedule! I also need to remember the nail balm. She asked for both after reviewing Sam’s baseline records and the initial product lineup.

He asks, “So, Ginny. What about the color change in my hair—not to mention how fast it’s growing? And those flecks in my eyes?”

I take a deep breath and explain, “Well, the color changes—both in your hair and eyes are to be expected. It means the product is working. It’s sort of like a marker. Understand? I suggest you go ahead and get your hair colored to match your roots. I’ll talk to your Mom about it—or let Greta or Lissa talk to her. That will make it less noticeable. As for the growth rate—that means it’s really healthy. That’s a good thing!”

He sighs and says, “If you say so. But it’s just temporary, right? My hair will go back to normal after this? And how can red be less noticeable? I’m blonde!”

I reply in a non-committal tone, “Well, we’ll see. And models change hair color all of the time—it’s no big deal!”

He bites back an obvious retort and I just smile.

I address the request from Joyce on additional products by adding, “Now, I want you to start using this lash serum and nail balm. There are videos in the usual place on how to use them both. Just use both morning and night when you use your eyedrops.”

I make sure he is paying attention and add, “Use the balm on all your finger and toenails—especially around the cuticles. Do not cut your nails! We need to be able measure growth and will take care of that at your weekly check-ins!”

I take a breath and continue, “Also, I didn’t really consider you wanting bar soap, but since you asked for it, I’ll give you some. Just don’t use it anywhere other than where you would use the bodywash—certainly not on your face. It’s not a facial bar! We do have shaving cream and gel, too, but it doesn’t seem like you need that at this point.”

He just sort of gurgles and turns red.

I smile sweetly and hand him a bag with the new products before adding, “Now, come along. Becky’s waiting!”

 

* * * * *
Becky
* * * * *
 

I smile as Ginny comes in with Sam. I notice right away that his hair is longer, and he has bright red roots. His eyes are also different the light hits them just right—the greenish flecks in his irises are mesmerizing.

A good photographer is aware of their subjects!

I get him set up and take this week’s pictures for comparison purposes. He is very easy to work with. This is not a modeling shoot by any means, but I can tell he will do well when they pull him into doing those. A little training and he will be a pro!

Speaking of modeling, I’m willing to bet that Lissa and Greta are going to start making him take better care of his appearance, now. Since he—well his parents—signed the ‘reserve’ model contract, he will have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. Even if he hadn’t—and he hadn’t taken the upfront signing bonus—he would be expected to present himself better as a WG ambassador.

The company takes people professionally associated with it very seriously—and won’t allow anything that might foster a negative reaction or what it would perceive as embarrassment. They consider all employees ambassadors of the company—and WunderGirls are the elite. Even the reserve ones.

I don’t know if he knows what he has gotten himself into, though, with Lissa. I don’t trust that woman. In my opinion she is a little unhinged. I’m also pretty sure she’s up to something with this trial…

Just look at Sam’s hair and eyes!

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

I review the trial’s overall Phase 1 extract results in preparation for an update to my secret contact on the board. Sam is the latest test subject to get the extract—and all subjects have reacted the same way, including him.

I will have to closely monitor his progress and keep an eye on Ginny’s reports, but in addition to the accelerated growth and cosmetic results, he should be well on his way to becoming mentally attached to the effects of the special plant extract in his Phase 1 products.

That extract is similar to nicotine in that it causes a very stimulating tingling, but unlike nicotine it is not at all physically addictive. It only serves to sensitize the subject to the Phase 2 extract and the tingling is a sign that the sensitization is taking effect. The tingling effect will stop on its own after the subject’s body is fully saturated with the product and all of its receptors have become sensitized.

It takes the body about one to two weeks to become fully sensitized with the extract dosages used in the trial products—and about a month for it to clear the molecules from its system as it slowly becomes desensitized.

The Phase 2 products cement the mental attachment in a way that will ensure success. A different extract is added and, when combined with the sensitized body from the first phase, the effect is more similar to caffeine in its addictiveness—it causes a low-level physical addiction that is fairly easy to break after about a week with only a moderate headache and some jitteriness.

The idea is less to have some hard addiction that the FDA or DEA will investigate—or try and regulate—but just give that little ‘kick’ to entice customers to flock to the effect and corresponding product. The addictive effect includes delivering the desired tingling—very similar to the Phase 1 product—when it attaches to the sensitized receptors.

This causes the subject to desire resensitization when a certain clearance level of the sensitizing agent is reached—since the tingling will also be reduced and the minor withdrawal symptoms kick in. And the cycle starts over. Overall, that will create a solid brand loyalty.

The Phase 1 chemical is basically untraceable—at least there are currently no commercial tests that will detect it. It can also not be synthesized—it can only be extracted from the plant itself.

The Phase 2 molecule is more easily detected, but takes a blood sample, because it breaks down completely into harmless components in the liver—and those metabolites are nothing abnormal in feces or urine.

I muse on the stroke of luck I had when I happened on the plants and seeds in our research stores—they are from the rainforest and are now technically extinct since they were isolated to a small area of the rainforest—and that area of the world has now been completely deforested and burned

Everyone had forgotten about the stored samples and I was able to garner them without notice. Now my little secret group in South America and I are the only ones that know of their existence. That’s the group that is growing the plants for me in seclusion and creating the basic extracts for me. I then further refine them here.

Sam will be the first subject to get both extracts in products through transdermal application solely using test products. So far, the Phase 2 extract has only been administered orally or via a special concentrated gel in other subject trials. If this works in Sam and creates the intended effect, it will be the first step in creating my new ‘therapeutic cosmetics’. I am still working on the computer model to determine how to best distribute it, but I have a solid idea.

My reverie is broken as I hear a knock on my door.

I look up as Ginny drops Sam off outside my office and I can tell right away that the products are already having a cosmetic effect! The markers are clearly visible which means we’re well on our way to creating ‘internal cosmetics’—changing things like hair, nail, or eye color from the inside out! I am also fairly confident that I will be able to turn the temporary effect into a permanent one.

His psych profile clearly indicates he is a male on the spectrum, so if—with a little pushing—he mostly voluntarily goes through with what is further in store for him, then it’s a clear indicator that the extracts are doing what they are intended to do. That is, create an overwhelming desire to use the product.

OK. Sure, some would call that addiction to the product. That’s all semantics as far as I’m concerned—and not something I’m bothered with. The minor Phase 2 addiction is not enough to even count.

No matter! It is time to put it to the first real test.

He comes in and I ask, “Well, how’s it going, Sam?”

He looks a little confused but answers, “OK, I think. It seems my hair is growing really fast, and it’s growing in red! Plus, my eyes have these weird green flecks in them. And Ginny said that those are ‘markers’ but won’t say if it’s temporary!”

I give him a comforting smile and ask in a slightly condescending tone, “Well, it’s true. That lets us know that the product is working. So, for you it would be a problem if it were permanent? Are you saying you want to back out of your agreement?”

I give him a pointed look. He shakes his head and stutters, “I…I…I mean, I don’t want red hair! I like it blonde!”

I give him a pitiful look and say, “Well…that dirty blonde you have is…well, pathetic! Sorry…” I’m not really, but I guess I can play at being nice.

I continue, “Anyway, assuming you don’t want to back out and make your parents pay the penalties, like your mother losing her job—not just the new one, but period. Or your Daddy basically having to go bankrupt to pay the penalty for breaking the contract and going to jail because that won’t cover it…”

I let that hang over his head for a pregnant pause, then matter-of-factly state, “Then you’ll get your hair colored to match your roots. Permanent or not—that is your color for now. It’s much prettier than that ‘blonde’ you like.”

He blinks, but I don’t relent and just pile it on, “I’ve set up an appointment with Joyce in M&M and let your Momma know that you’re to get your hair fixed…as well as some other things. Your appearance as a reserve model is important and you look…unkempt. That reflects poorly on WG and we can’t have that! Understand? Your mother does!”

I pause another beat and deal the final blow, “So, can I depend on you to be a man and honor your contract?”

I wait.

After a moment, he breaks and pleads, “I’m sorry! I mean it’s just so weird! Whatever…but…red?”

I smile and soften my visage. Of course it’s fake—I don’t really care. I decide it’s time to close this out, “Well, it is pretty. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but that is what WG is about—pretty. OK? Now, are you seeing any other issues? No? Good! Let’s get you over to Joyce!”

 

* * * * *
Joyce
* * * * *
 

Lissa brings in the newest WG R&D acquisition and I smile at him. She introduces us and I try and calm him down with a soothing voice, “Hi, Sam. I see you’re in need of a little TLC. You’re a reserve model and that thousand dollars that you took home to cement that status means that I get to determine how you look as one of our ambassadors.”

I take a breath as I look him over and add, “Well, Dharma, Brea, and I will do that together. Dharma gets to choose anything that you wear—other than cosmetics. I’m in charge of your ‘body’. Brea is in charge of your cosmetics.”

He still looks like a deer in the headlights and I giggle, “Don’t worry, Hon. I don’t bite! You just worry about Dharma—she very well might! Brea is a doll, though!”

Since I have a lot to take care of on his first visit, I don’t have too much time to coddle him. He did sign the contract. So, I get to ready to get started and command, “Now, come over here and let’s get your hair sorted out!”

Lissa leaves him to me, and I quickly get to work on his hair. I don’t have to wash it—actually, I can’t, since that would mess up the protocol—so, I start by mixing up the red color to match his new growth and get ready to apply it.

Before I do, I ask, “Would you like some gum? It takes a while for the color to cook!”

He shrugs and I give him a piece of Ginny’s special gum before I start applying the dye. Of course, I don’t let him know that it is also an experimental product of its own.

I put him under the cooker and start picturing how I’m going to cut and style his hair. I look at the pictures that Becky sent over and come up with a plan for the initial cut. With the rate it’s growing, I can afford to take a little more off to give the shape I want for future cuts. It will still be plenty long, though.

I watch him happily chew the gum for a few minutes—until the timer goes off—then I bring him over to the chair and give him the cutest little bob that I had planned out in my head. At most, it could be considered androgynous—but it just works with his now beautiful red hair. He’s a reserve WunderGirl, so I’m not worried that it’s on the feminine side. As far as I’m concerned, that’s how it should be!

Once I finish with the cut, I say, “OK, Sam. We need to clean up your eyebrows…”

I make quick work with some wax and taper them to fine point with a nice arch, then finish cleaning them up with a pair of tweezers. I smile--they look much cleaner and better! Of course, it just serves to add to his more feminine look—as is befitting a WunderGirl.

Finally, I say, “OK, Sam. One last thing—as a reserve model, it’s required to have pierced ears. There’s no actual specification on what that means—other than the lobes must be pierced—and so I get to choose the specifics. I just love a double-tap—at the very least. Oh, and an upper cartilage piercing will look just darling with that haircut!”

He starts to whine, but I shut that down, “Do I need to get Lissa?” I’m in no mood for arguments—he signed the contract.

Besides, I so love making people look good—whether they realize that’s what I’m doing, or not! It’s all for their own good and they most always come around in the end. Regardless—it’s what is expected of a WunderGirl. Reserve or not.

It takes just a few minutes to complete the piercings and insert the sparkly faux diamond studs into the new holes in his lobes. I place a hoop in the hole in his upper left ear. I would love to pierce his nose, too. That’s too much for now, I know—I will get to it later, though.

I give him a fresh piece of gum and he chews on it furiously. Then, just as I finish up and hand him the instructions and solutions for caring for his ears, along with a large bag of the gum, his mother comes in. I smile and ask, “What do you think, Julia? Isn’t he adorable?”

 

* * * * *
Julia
* * * * *
 

I go over to the salon at eleven. Greta just met with me and told me to meet Sam there—she also warned me that it is vital that I support whatever Joyce has done and whatever she may further recommend—as that supports WG. And I have an obligation to support WG as a WunderGirl, as well.

I completely get the message.

I see Sam and gasp—I try my best to hide it so he can’t tell. But his hair is completely bright red! I had noticed his red roots earlier but passed it off as something temporary and nothing to worry about. This is…surprising!

And It’s cut in a style that is…well, feminine—at least clearly on the feminine side of androgynous. I have seen some boys with similar cuts, but they always looked girly to me. He also now has two, shiny diamond studs in each ear—one larger than the other—plus a glittery ring in the top of his left ear.

I’m momentarily at a loss for words, but then I remember Greta’s admonishment that the thousand dollars that we already accepted—along with the signed contract with all of its penalties—is plenty of reason to not create an issue that will embarrass WG.

I go and hug Sam and gush—as sincerely as I can muster, “Sam! You look awesome, Hon! I mean, just look at you! Joyce! You’ve done wonders—as usual!”

He looks at me in confusion and I know I need to get him out of here before Joyce gets any more ideas. From my discussions with Greta, I know that the contract for reserve models does specify pierced ears, so that doesn’t completely surprise me.

I mean, I also know the language was intended for female reserve WunderGirls—and who would have guessed that there would ever actually be any male reserve WunderGirls when it was drafted in the nineteen fifties?

The fact that he has double pierced lobes—and a cartilage piercing—lets me know she is ad-libbing on the specifications, though. And they can be waived to begin with. She’s chosen not to pursue that option.

I start to move him towards the door when she says, “Julia, wait! I think we need Sam to visit Brea, don’t you? Just to get a ‘look’ worked out in case we need to implement the reserve clause at a moment’s notice. I mean, we don’t want to just start figuring out his look at that point! And we really need to get him working more with Becky to learn the ropes of a shoot.”

I sigh. I tried.

I carefully reply, “I don’t know if she has time. I need to take Sam home over my lunch break…”

She interupts, “Nonsense! Sam can stay until you’re off! There’s no school in session and I’m sure he has nothing better to do! Now, let’s just see if she has a moment.”

 

* * * * *
Brea
* * * * *
 

I’m about to go to an early lunch when Joyce sends me a message. I curse—I hate that self-serving bitch! She’s so far up Greta’s behind that she can probably see out her eyes! And I think she’s somehow in cahoots with Lissa—there’s just something…off...about some of the things going on around here!

To my surprise, Julia comes in with her son with Joyce right behind them. Julia is not new to WG, but she is new to M&M and I really like her. She just has a lot to learn about what goes on here.

Her son is sweet—but he certainly is in over his head with Lissa. And now Joyce seems to have her hooks in him. Poor kid!

Joyce has invoked the full reserve model contract requirements on him—something that is completely unnecessary and ludicrous in this instance. But there is no point in me arguing the case. Unfortunately, like I said, Julia hasn’t learned to play the game, yet.

I sigh and reluctantly explain, “OK, Sam. Do you know what is required of you as a reserve model—I mean, in theory? Any of the requirements can be waived by a senior manager of WG—like, for instance Greta or Lissa. Unless they are waived when invoked by any employee—like Joyce—it is a breach of contract if they’re not followed.”

Julia nods her understanding. Sam looks confused. Joyce looks pissed—I don’t care. If he can get Lissa, or any other senior on his side, then we don’t have to go down this path.

For now, though—until he can get that exemption—he will have to meet minimum requirements. It looks like Joyce has gone above and beyond with the piercings—I’m not going to touch that since it’s her realm. She better not touch mine, though…

I further explain, “I’m going to give you a full WG model—what we call a WunderGirl—anyway, a I’m going to give you a full makeover to just get a baseline look. Then I’ll explain what the minimum is that’s expected of a reserve model. Then I’ll make sure that you comply with those requirements. OK?”

He just kind of gurgles and hiccups at the same time. He’s white as a ghost and Julia is starting to look a little concerned. Maybe she’ll get with it and learn the game, now!

I buckle down and give Sam a full makeover—pretending he’s an actively working WunderGirl. He, of course, is totally shocked at getting his first makeover and I don’t blame him. I don’t explain anything to him—it’s not a lesson.

He just sits there in resignation and let’s me do my work. He actually has nice skin and a very nice complexion. It makes the makeover very easy.

I’m sure the feel and the smell of the cosmetics are completely foreign to him. Heck, I’m sure he never even contemplated wearing makeup! He doesn’t strike me as the type that would sneak into his Mom’s room to use her makeup—even though, with his hair cut like it is, his eyebrows shaped in a clearly feminine manner, and his ears pierced like they are, it would be easy to assume he’s a girl.

When I’m done, she’s…ummm…he’s beautiful! He looks every bit like a gorgeous, yet shy, sixteenish-year-old girl. I didn’t go overboard on the makeover, but it is does give him a more sophisticated and very feminine look that seems to add a couple of years to his age.

Julia gasps and Sam looks like he’s going to throw up from shock and confusion when Joyce calls in Becky to take a full set of baseline WunderGirl pictures for his portfolio and her work with him on basic modeling poses as part of the process.

I want to complain about the treatment but know there’s no sense in it. Becky seems caught off-guard, too.

When she has finished taking her pictures and giving him basic pointers on modeling, I quickly clean off his makeup and say, “OK, Sam. There are certain minimum standards that you will have to meet—unless you get a senior to exempt you like I explained before. That is, now that Joyce has invoked the contract language on you. What I did before is more a look that we will go for if and when you actually start modeling.”

I sigh and get out the special extended wear cosmetics. These are even more special, since they are part of his experimental line.

I say, “These will last at least an entire week without fading or smearing and are WG special cosmetics for our reserve WunderGirls. Only these also go with your experimental line.”

I put on the eyeliner and, without thinking, give him a cute little flick on one eye. I curse myself—technically, those are not required, but it’s habit because it is a standard WG symbol. I can’t help but think that it does look cute on him, though. Since it’s a real pain to remove the semi-permanent makeup, I just do the same to the other eye.

I add the special long-lasting mascara that gives him long, thick lashes, and create a butterfly look with a strong curve.

Altogether, it gives him that cute cat-eye look that’s the hallmark of a typical younger WunderGirl.

Then I use blood-red lip stain on his lips to ensure that he has appropriate color—that is actually a really old-fashioned specification that I wish we could get changed. Normally, he would need to use actual lipstick, but I can argue that clause—for now.

Joyce has been complaining about the loophole for a while, now—maybe we can compromise and have the required color removed if it has to be actual lipstick.

Anyway, he’ll have to use lip gloss with the stain and reapply it often—like he would lipstick. But he won’t have to worry about getting the color everywhere.

Because of the experimental status he’s in—and the products he has to use for the trial—I can forgo anything else. For now.

I hand him the tube of lip gloss and explain how to use it—and admonish him to keep it refreshed to maintain the required look. I also remind him of the consequences of being caught not using it and Julia confirms that she will ensure he does so appropriately. At least it has a pleasant strawberry-vanilla flavor.

I finally remind him that he doesn’t have to worry about washing off the lip stain, eyeliner, or mascara—or even smearing it—since it’s semi-permanent and to just wash his face as normal. He turns a little green when he realizes that it won’t come off and that I will just be refreshing it on a weekly basis.

He looks at himself in the mirror and turns greener. I hide him from Joyce’s view before she insists on anything else and firmly whisper, “Get over it, Hon! This is the best I can do!”

He pales and looks even more like he’s going to throw up.

I don’t blame him.

He looks like a cute girl just starting out with makeup—maybe around thirteen. I think he has a sister that age. They will now look like twins—if she has started with makeup yet. Well, I am not sure color her hair is.

 

* * * * *
Gary
* * * * *
 

Julia is supposed to come home with Sam around five. This used to be our day off together, but her new position—and Sam’s check-in meetings—have screwed with that. I’m glad that Julia is happy with the new position and I’m certainly not going to argue the considerable amount more money she’s now bringing home!

But I do miss having the day to do things together. I decided earlier that we should at least all go out to eat together, since it’s also Chad’s early night off. Not to mention that I can’t cook worth a damn!

All-in-all, I’m in a pretty decent mood after a relaxing day off.

But then I see my ‘son’ come in behind Julia when they finally do get home.

I nearly have a coronary! I mean, I maybe I do—I don’t know. I feel my face turn red and my blood pressure shoot through the roof!

He looks like a frickin’ fruit! His hair is colored red and cut like a girl’s. His ears are pierced—not just once, but twice! Plus, he has this glittery hoop thing in the top of one ear. He’s got makeup on his eyes and his eyebrows are shaped like a girl’s. And he has shiny blood-red lips.

About as red as I’m seeing right now!

I lose it—I mean, what self-respecting father wouldn’t?

I exclaim, “This stops right here and now! Get upstairs, young man and wash that crap off! Take out those earrings--I'll take you to get a buzz-cut, right now! Not son of mine is going to walk around like that! Julia, how could let him do this?”

My mistake!

Julia lets into me like a mama Tasmanian Devil! I guess there’s something in his contract—or something.

I don’t care! He still looks like a fruit! I can’t imagine him going into the lumberyard like this tomorrow. Maybe that’s the best thing that can happen, though! They’ll straighten him! If they don’t kill him, first…

We finally do go out to eat and I don’t say a word the whole time—except to order.

Beer after beer, that is…

---

Sam may not be the only person at WunderGirl getting more than bargained for!

---

 

WunderGirl

Copyright© 2020 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

---

 
 
~ Day 8 ~
 

---

 

* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I groan as the alarm goes off. That’s getting to be a morning staple—groaning at the alarm!

I hate getting up for a ‘normal’ day at the lumberyard. Today is going to be worse than ‘normal’!

I caught so much shit from Dad last night before we went out to eat—at least until Mom shut him down. Like I asked for any of what happened! He seemed to be under the impression it was my idea.

I get in the shower and start my morning routine as my dark thoughts continue to fester. At least I now have bar soap for those private areas where body wash and a scrubby just don’t get it done. The steamy shower and the tingling of the bodywash only serve to wake me up—which only augments my ability to brood on my thoughts.

When we finally went out to eat last night, I continued catching shit from Chad, and for some reason Mom only partially shut him down. I know what he dished out is only going to be the tip of the iceberg compared to what I’ll catch at the lumberyard today. Maybe she was trying to ‘toughen’ my skin—I have no idea!

She mostly just ignored Chad and spent a lot of time explaining the ‘cool’ cosmetics aspect to Gemma. She even told her she was considering using the semi-permanent stuff herself, but that it wasn’t recommended for ‘active’ models since they have to change their look more often than ‘reserve’ ones. She tried to pull me into that conversation, but I just sat there brooding and trying to force some food down.

Dad just chugged one beer after the other.

I sigh and get out of the shower—all tingly and feeling good. Well, physically. My dark mood is not improved, however, and just darkens more when I start washing my face and see myself in the mirror.

I remember sitting there as Joyce colored my hair. The crap she put on my hair stunk like a cesspool full of ammonia. The only good part about that whole time under that dryer thing was the gum. It was surprisingly good. I don’t normally chew gum, but that stuff was good! At least I still have a huge bag of it!

Anyway, then she cut my now completely red hair into a girl’s cut. Oh, she played like it was ‘unisex’—but it’s just flat out girly. No one ever believed the few guys at school that were ‘brave’ enough to try it out, either.

That would have been bad enough, in-and-of itself—but then she pierced my ears! Multiple times! I mean it didn’t hurt too bad. The hole she made in the top of my left ear did hurt more than the ones in the bottoms. I just can’t believe she did it!

One hole in each, I could maybe explain away—but two?

The way my hair is now cut, it almost completely covers my ears and the sparkly diamonds in them are peeking out and shining in my lobes in all their glory for anyone to see. I groan and disinfect them like Joyce instructed me to and just groan more.

I focus on washing my face and scrub my eyes in vain—again. Brea wasn’t kidding when she said this stuff won’t come off! I look at the way she put that eyeliner junk and mascara on them—and how it makes them look cat-like. They look a lot like Taylor Swift always does hers. I like the look on Taylor—I do not like the look on me!

It just draws attention to my eyes—and the hypnotically-weird green flecks are somehow becoming more visible. Maybe it’s just because it does make me look at my eyes more.

My blood-red lips are certainly competition to my eyes, though. They’re hard to ignore—especially when I put the gloss on them. I’ll admit, though—after I got used to the taste of the gloss, it’s kind of nice. The feel of the gloss is still strange, though—particularly when my lips kind of stick together when I open my mouth.

I sigh and apply my day cream. I still marvel at how it just soaks right into my skin—and makes it sort of shine and feel all soft. Not that I’m looking for my skin to be soft, or anything.

I grab the bottle and tilt my head back to put in my eyedrops. I’m a pro at that, now. I have no problem getting them in and the stinging is down to maybe a one on the lava scale.

Finally, I put the new serum stuff on my lashes, as instructed—it’s weird putting it on over the mascara crap that’s already on them. I blink a couple of times. I’m supposed to apply it to the base of my lashes, but it’s kind of oily and drips into my eyes, where it blurs my vision for a second. I wonder if that’s on purpose—if my vision is blurred, I can’t see what they’ve done to me. Is that the plan?

Finally, I massage in the nail balm as instructed—paying particular attention to the cuticles—and cringe at the amount of time it now takes me to get through all of this.

I sigh again and comb through my damp hair to try and make it less girly-looking. But with the way it’s cut, it just falls right back into place the way Joyce styled it. I sigh and am thankful that at least she didn’t give me bangs!

I get dressed and put on my lip gloss before I go down to breakfast—still in a complete funk.

Chad and I start at the same time today, so I’m riding in with him to the lumberyard. He’s already downstairs eating and gives me a shit-eating grin when he sees me. He just shakes his head and says, “I can’t wait for today!”

I eat in silence—doing my best to ignore his ribbing. He keeps it up the whole way in the car and by the time we get there, my mood is even fouler.

I just chew furiously on my gum and storm into the store behind Chad when we arrive.

 

* * * * *
Mr. Rollings
* * * * *
 

I nearly spit out my coffee when I see Chad come in with his…brother(?)!

I clear my throat and say, “Good morning, Chad. Sam… Is that really you? Son, are you OK?”

He gives me a dark look and just nods. He’s clearly in a foul mood and chewing furiously on a piece of gum. I can understand his mood. If I looked like that, I would be in a bad mood, too. The question is, why does he look like that?

I press him, “Ummm, is there something you want to tell me, Son? I mean, you’re not breaking any dress codes, but are you sure this is how you want to come to work? Let alone…look?”

He just grumbles something about WunderGirl and contracts. I don’t catch it all, but I do know he’s part of some trial over there where his mother works.

I guess the less I know, the better.

He’s sure going to catch heck from the guys out in the yard and the mill, though. There’s not much I can do to help him, there. If he’s going to walk around like that, he better develop some tough skin—and fast!

I finally shrug and say, “Well, if you’re sure this is what you want, then go ahead and make fresh coffee. After that, there’s logs to be counted! We just got a fresh truckload in. So, hop to it! But don’t even think about complaining to me, if the guys give you heck out there!”

I shake my head and go back to my office to order a new sawblade.

I’m not sure this is going to work out. I hate to do that to Gary, but I don’t want the kid’s blood on my hands.

 

* * * * *
Chad
* * * * *
 

I know what to expect when the Squirt comes down—I mean I saw what he got himself into yesterday—but I still do a double-take when I see him.

He’s so going to catch Hell at the yard! In a way, I feel sorry for him. I mean, I get he was trying to find an easy way to make money and get out of going to work at the mill. Even if he did get me in trouble, I can understand that.

I guess there really isn’t such a thing as easy money, though. If that’s what he has to do to get ten grand, I’ll just keep sawing! There’s no amount of money worth looking like that!

Of course, I give him shit all the way to work. I am his brother after all! And he’s going to have to toughen up. Dad’s right—he looks like a fruit—and the guys at the mill are going to slice and dice him.

I keep after him—just to egg him on. All he does is sit there in a stew, furiously chewing on that new gum of his. It makes him look even more like an air-headed girl when he does. It’s a good thing he’s not a blonde anymore!

Old man Rollings nearly has a heart attack when he sees us. I have to fight hard not to laugh at his reaction. I just wave to him on my way out to the mill and snicker as I overhear him tell the Squirt to make the coffee and then come out and count logs.

As predicted, when he does come out, the guys give him total shit! I mean they give it to him with both barrels, a bazooka, then an M1 tank! To top that off, they drop napalm on him.

He’s in tears in no time. To his credit, he doesn’t run off, though—and after a while, the guys let up some. I guess they respect that’s he’s taking their crap like a man—even if looks even less like one than normal.

Maybe their starting to see him as a girl?

He sniffles and finally stops crying by lunchtime and we go to the bathroom to wash up. He looks in the mirror and rinses off his face. I’m just amazed that the black crap around his eyes hasn’t run at all!

I have to admit, I was kind of looking forward to seeing that signature racoon look on him that girls get when they cry.

I know that’s mean, but…so what?

 

* * * * *
Rhonda
* * * * *
 

I go into Lissa’s office, not sure what to expect. She’s been really good to me since I got out of high school and am deciding on what to do for my future. She gave this special ‘head-hunting’ contract to seek out individuals for her trials—and I’ve done mostly OK. Sometimes she wants something very specific and I’ve had to get creative.

Lately, she’s encouraging me to go into chemical engineering like she did, but I’m not sure yet. And now she has another specific ‘desire’, in terms of subject. Only this one is even more specific than normal. The odd thing is she pitched it as an option for me to do.

That’s not her normal style—and I have a feeling she’s getting ready to up the pressure.

She smiles as I enter and says, “Rhonda! Sit down! Have you given my offer any more thought?”

I sigh. It’s not that I haven’t given it any thought, but it’s not something I really want to do. I hedge my bets and reply, “I’m still thinking about it, Lissa. Is there any particular deadline you need an answer?”

She purses her lips in thought. I know she’s not used to being made to wait—or not getting her way. She finally says, “I need to know at least a week before school starts. The sooner, the better. Just remember your contract with me and your quotas. If you’re not meeting them, Hon, things can get tough. I can be more forgiving, however, if you do this for me.”

There it is! I knew her…business…streak would come out sooner or later. Some would call it an evil streak, not just business. Actually, I think it’s pretty cool how she always gets what she wants. Well, it’s cool when she’s aiming that streak at someone else and not at me!

Still, I can learn a lot from her on getting my way. So what if people think I’m a bitch—like her!

I nod and say, “OK, Lissa. I’ll let you know before then. It’s just a lot to ask, you know? I’m not into…that. What you’re asking goes well beyond my contract and quotas.”

She gives me a contemplative look and says, “Stop by and see Ginny on the way out. She has a package for you. It will help you when you decide to do as I ask, since we both know you will. You’re too much like me—you can’t turn down a challenge! What bigger challenge is there than overcoming an aversion to something?”

She pauses, then winks and adds, “Besides, how do you know you’re not into it if you haven’t tried it?”

I sigh and know she’s right. Ultimately, I’ll do what she wants. There really isn’t much sense in resisting, but I’m not ready to give in just yet. She needs this from me, so I still have some cards to play.

I shrug and say, “Yeah, but…it just doesn’t feel like it’s right, but you’re correct. I’ll think about it. I just hope Ginny’s package is really helpful if I do!”

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

I watch Rhonda walk out and turn down the hall to find Ginny. Her package will certainly be helpful—in ways that she’ll soon find out!

I’m disappointed that she’s resisting, but I’ll break her down—and in. She has the potential to be a tremendous asset to me.

I just have to help her see things a little more clearly.

It was disappointing when I got word that the gender evaluation tool has a potential flaw that may skew it towards ‘male’. That means that Sam may be less of indicator than I’d hoped. Either way, I need to shore up that data and I have just the plan.

Rhonda just has to get onboard.

I tap my fingernail on my desk and then pull up my email application on my computer. I send a quick text with some specifics to Ginny, while it loads. Then I compose an email to Joyce, and Dharma. I can’t trust Brea to be in on this.

Rhonda will get onboard and those three will help me—even though they don’t know what they’re doing when they do it.

I smile and hit send.

Yes, Rhonda, my Dear—there’s no sense trying to avoid your destiny! You’re going to enjoy it a lot more than you know.

 

* * * * *
Ginny
* * * * *
 

I get the package ready for Rhonda to pick up. Lissa was clear that I’m not let her in on the specific qualities that this package offers. And then there was the last second request, that she just sent, to add sensitizer to it.

I’m surprised, but I guess I shouldn’t be. Lissa will be Lissa, after all!

This is something we’ve been working on lately—and it’s largely untried. The product, when used correctly will ramp of female’s pheromones and it has a strong aphrodisiac in it.

This version has a cumulative effect that won’t be immediately noticeable. After a few weeks, the user will be a very horny and totally irresistible woman.

Boys will do anything to get her—and she’ll very much want the attention. Assuming she’s into boys.

Otherwise, she’ll be in a mess—she’ll attract guys like flies to honey. And want girls very badly—a recipe for disaster.

It’s really important to know the woman’s sexuality when using this—she at the very least needs to be bi. It’s really best if she’s solidly heterosexual, though.

I smile as she comes in and say, “Hi, Ronni! I have your package ready. It’s a special moisturizer that Lissa wants you to try. It’s not ready for an official trial yet, but it’s completely safe. It’s important that you use it daily and don’t quit until I tell you to, though. OK? Can you do that?”

She looks a little confused, but nods as she replies, “Sure. I guess. I mean if you’re sure it’s safe. What does it do?”

I smile and say, “It’s completely safe. It’s a moisturizer with benefits. You’ll notice a nice tingling when you use it. Most people consider it very invigorating. Let me know what you think!”

 

* * * * *
Joyce
* * * * *
 

I’m taking a quick break with Dharma when both of our phones ding, signaling we have a work email. I pull mine up and see it’s addressed to both Dharma and me.

I read through it as I see Dharma is doing, as well.

I smile and say, “Well, it’s about time we can get our hooks into Rhonda. That girl is a diamond in the rough! She could be so pretty! I know she was a geek in school, but she was also a cheerleader! How could she have let herself go, so much?”

Dharma smiles back and says, “Yes. I know what you mean. I’m not sure what Lissa’s motivation in this is, but I agree. Ronni needs to step up! She may only be a headhunter for Lissa, but she does represent WunderGirl when she’s recruiting! It’s bothered me for a while!”

I nod and say, “Maybe that’s what Lissa’s thinking, too. That she would be a more effective recruiter now that the trial is about to expand…”

Dharma says, “I’m not sure how Lissa thinks that we’ll get her to play along, though. Especially, since we’re not supposed to let her know what we’re doing…”

I smile and say, “I think it’s time we start up that weekly girl’s night out that we’ve been talking about. We’ll Julia in on it, too. Then we’ll just steer Ronni in the right direction—we can just gradually amp it up. With all of us girly-girls, she’ll just get so used to it that she’ll never know what happened.”

Dharma nods and says, “And we can do some after-work things, too. Lissa can put some pressure on her to come along—maybe to ‘scout out recruits’. Going out to bars and such with us all as ‘bait’ would be something that we sell?”

I laugh, “I like it! Let me send the idea to Lissa!”

Dharma says, “I’ll send out the invite to the girls…”

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Sam's transformation continues, now including what he is required to wear according to his contract. He's really becoming a WunderGirl.

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WunderGirl

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

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~ Day 14 ~
 

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* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I wake up right before my alarm goes off. My nerves are completely frazzled!

The past week was awful at the lumberyard. The guys there gave me total shit! A couple of them even scared me—I think they think I suddenly turned gay, or something. And they’re total homophobes! So, I’ve been doing my best to avoid them.

Like that really works. I don’t know how I’m going to survive this! I’ve got to somehow convince Dad that he needs to let me off the hook at the lumberyard. Or convince Mom to convince him…

The weekend was only better in that I didn’t have to go to the lumberyard, but Mom insisted I go to the mall with her to get some clothes. My skin has become so soft and sensitive that my normal clothes feel more like coarse-grit sandpaper than cloth.

I made the huge mistake of mentioning that to her. I mean it was an honest slip, but she pounced right on it when I said it. Sure, she likes to shop with Gemma—and she seems to be treating me more like her lately than as…me…

That became even more apparent when we got to the mall. She dragged me into all of these clothing stores and ‘we’ looked through rack after rack of girls’ clothing.

I felt like absolutely dying when she made me go into the girl’s changing room and try on several pairs of girl’s jeans.

OK, I mean they don’t look like girl’s jeans—if you ignore the really short zipper and the pockets that might as well not even be there. At least, they don’t have like jewels all over them, or lace, or anything. They are skin-tight, plus a little on the short side.

But they are soft and stretchy.

OK, so they feel really nice, but that’s beside the point! I’m a guy! Guys don’t wear girl’s jeans!

And I let her know that.

So, she got me five pairs—totally ignoring my objections.

Then she found these shirts—well, I’m calling them shirts—she called them ‘tops’. Anyway, they’re mostly not girly. I mean, yeah, they feel great and you have to look kind of really hard to tell that they’re not guy’s. The cut is somehow wrong, but like the jeans, they are soft and much more comfortable than my normal shirts. But they are girl’s! So, I let her know I don’t need them!

Yep! Five of those, too.

Where I absolutely drew the line, though, was when she insisted that I get girl’s panties because—in her words—they’re so much softer than the ugly, itchy things I normally wear. And supposedly my guy underwear shows through the jeans, or something.

OK, so it did bunch up under them. But I didn’t pick them out.

I mean, I flat out refused to get the panties! I put my foot down!

No, really!

So, my underwear drawer is now full of girl’s panties in all these pastel colors. She calls them ‘bikini cuts’ and that we’ll look into thongs later. So what if they’re more comfortable? They’re girl’s!

She didn’t stop there, though! Oh no, my sock drawer is now full of short, stretchy, really soft girlie socks. You know, the ones that don’t show above the tops of your sneakers and look like you don’t even have any on. I guess that’s good, because they’re all the same girly pastel colors as the panties.

She completely foils my plan to just sneak into my normal socks and undies when she loads them all up and takes them to the Goodwill—along with all of my old jeans and most of my old shirts.

My usable wardrobe is now mostly from the girl’s department. It’s freakish!

I sigh as I finish my morning routine. I’m now two weeks into it—well, one week into the serum stuff, nail balm, and ear care—and it really is pretty much a routine now. I don’t really have to think about anything. It’s just sort of automatic when I go through the motions of the routine.

I comb through my damp hair after pulling on one of my new ‘shirts’ and sigh. It’s grown at least another inch! I look at my fingernails in the mirror as I follow my comb pulling through my hair. I stretch out my fingers in front of my face and grimace. They’re really long, and really strong. The weird thing is that the new growth is bright-red—like the same color as my lips.

It completely freaks me out!

I so want to cut them! They really dig into my hand when I do things like just hold a pencil. They stick out over the ends of my fingers and get in the way of everything. I mean they aren’t huge, long talons, or anything—but they are a total nuisance!

Did I mention they freak me out? Like my eyes!

My toenails are growing faster than normal, too—and in the same red color. At least they’re hidden in my shoes!

I take one more look in the mirror and can’t help but think I look like a freak.

I dread going in with Mom to WG now, just as much as I do when I have to go in to the lumberyard. I have no idea what torture they’ll put me through today! At least it doesn’t seem like there’s much left they can do to me…

So, I ride in with Mom with a queasy feeling in my stomach. I dread it but walk to Ginny’s lab on my own since Mom has some meeting she has to get to.

 

* * * * *
Ginny
* * * * *
 

Sam walks in and I smile at him.

He certainly looks different with his longish red hair—and his eyes are taking on a distinctive emerald green color, now that the flecks are starting to coalesce. He doesn’t look happy, though.

I say brightly, “Good morning, Sam! It’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?”

He looks at me warily. I guess I can’t blame him. I just smile and say, “OK, then. Let’s get right to it…”

I take blood, then do the measurements after he strips to his…panties? Come to think of it, his clothes do look…feminine.

His hair has grown another full inch, his lashes are twice as thick and nearly doubled in length. His nails are a quarter inch longer and growing in a beautiful red. We need to get them taken care of, so that they look manicured. The same for his toes.

It surprises me he doesn’t say anything about the red—I guess he’s figured out that it won’t do any good. Still—it’s odd. But Lissa does have a unique way of getting her point across—and she rarely fails.

Finally, I check his ears—they’re well-maintained and showing no signs of infection.

I focus on his female clothing as he’s getting dressed again. Overcome with curiosity, I inquire, “Those are nice jeans and I love the top! Cute pink panties and matching girl’s socks… Care to elaborate?”

He sighs and tells me about how soft and sensitive his skin has become—and how Julia took him shopping.

I nod and make a note—it looks like it’s time for him to meet Dharma. With the way he’s been coming along, that doesn’t truly surprise me. That he voluntarily went shopping and is wearing the clothes, though, does. OK, it seems that maybe it wasn’t completely voluntary, and that Julia had a heavy hand in it all, but still…

I make a note in his log, then mentally go back through my checklist. Satisfied, I say, “Well, it looks like everything is in order. You’re two weeks in! So, you should be more or less out of product. Is that right?”

He nods and says, “I probably have enough stuff for tonight—maybe for in the morning.”

I smile and reply, “Well, I’m going to give you new supplies today—although, we may be changing them again very soon. Finish off with the old product tonight—and start these new bottles in the morning. Just rinse out the old bottles really well and bring them back in with you next week. We like to recycle!”

He nods and muses, “I do have one question… The products still give me a nice tingly feeling, although not as strong. I find that I sort of…miss that feeling during the day. I did find that chewing that gum that Joyce gave helped some—but I’m out of that.”

I nod and fight a smile. I’ve been waiting on that to come up.

Finally, I do smile and say, “Well, there are certain ingredients in the products that are designed to be invigorating. It seems they work extremely well on you. That’s great for you! Right?”

He sort of nods and I continue, “Now, we don’t want you to be showering a hundred times a day to get that feeling, so we can add some other products into the mix that release those invigorating ingredients slowly—throughout the day. Would you like that?”

He looks a little dumbfounded and I just say, “There’s no shame in wanting to feel as good as you look, Hon!”

He finally nods with a conflicted look and I say, “OK. I will add deodorant to your list of products. I know you haven’t really hit puberty yet, so you haven’t had a real need for it, yet—but it won’t hurt to use it and get in the habit for when you do need it. You aren’t using any right now, right? I’ve never really asked—and should have.”

He shakes his head and I smile. I hand him a tube of stick deodorant and say, “Here. Just rub this under each arm a couple of times in the mornings. Normally, you will put it on right after your shower if you take that first thing.”

He sticks the tube up his top from the bottom and applies the product. I immediately smell the lilac scent and he gets a funny look on his face.

He complains, “This smells girly! Don’t you have anything el…” Then he gets a smile on his face as the tingling starts. The deodorant contains a highly concentrated dose that will continue slowly releasing for several hours.

I ask mischievously, “You were saying? I’m afraid that’s the only version of the experimental product authorized for your trial. I can take it back—if you really hate it that much!”

He emphatically shakes his head and says, “No! I mean, I can…live with the…smell… It’s not my favorite, at all, but I can deal with it.”

I smile and then pick up a special tube of lip gloss. I hand it to him and say, “Here, try this.”

He gives me a funny look but pulls out the applicator wand and expertly spreads the gloss on his lips without looking. It’s clear he has been heavily using the gloss that Brea gave him, because of the practiced ease he exhibits in applying it.

He purses his lips as I’m sure the intense tingling in his lips is starting. I can already see them starting to plump up. The tingling will spread throughout his face. Anybody he kisses will now get a nice taste of chocolate-covered-strawberry-flavored gloss.

He kind of licks his lips and smiles. He says, “Chocolate! I like that!”

I giggle and add several tubes to his bag with his other products. I have a feeling he will go through the gloss rather quickly. I also give him a large supply of the gum.

I guess Joyce wants him in the habit of chewing it for some reason.

He seems to finally notice the swelling in his lips and exclaims, “Ginny! I think I may be allergic to this! My lips feel like they’re swelling!”

I shake my head and say, “No, Hon! It’s OK. It’s actually supposed to do that. It’s…like the color markers… It lets us know it’s working. Don’t worry about it, OK? You’ll get used to it and not notice it in no time!”

I give him a minute to process that and settle down, before I say, “OK, Sam. Time to go get your week two pictures, then see Joyce for your weekly salon appointment. You’ll also get to see Dharma today, since it seems you’re ready to start dressing in a manner more appropriate to your status as a WunderGirl. We have to make sure you represent WG correctly as an ambassador! Don’t you agree?”

I giggle and just say, “Of course, you do! Why am I even asking?”

He gives me a worried look that I studiously ignore and lead him to the photography studio.

 

* * * * *
Joyce
* * * * *
 

I clap my hands when I see Sam come in after his session with Becky!

He looks darling! His hair is now half-way to his shoulders and ready for the next styling session. And his nails are screaming for some TLC! The bright-red new growth is delicious and matches his lips. I contemplate just painting his nails completely that color but decide it would be a bit too much—for now.

I sit him right down and mist his hair until it’s thoroughly drenched and dripping wet. Then I give him a layered cut that just screams WunderGirl model! I’m sure he’ll think it’s girly. I don’t care! I mean, it is. It’s meant to be and it’s perfect!

After I’m done drying it and touch up plucking his brows, I let him see himself in the mirror. He turns ghastly pale with a twinge of green that compliments his increasingly lovely green eyes. I just ignore his demeanor and enthuse, “You look lovely, Hon!”

Then I take one of his hands and pat it as I say, “Now, we need to take care of these claws!”

I have him lay back in the chair and put a warming gel mask over his eyes. As I encourage him to relax, I inspect his nails and am proud to see that they are healthy and strong—and growing in that lovely shade of red!

I start on his toes. I clip them straight across, leaving the white extended to an eighth of an inch. I file them smooth and buff them, then paint over the new red-colored and old pinkish growth with a hot-bubblegum pink. I add stark white strips on the tips for a French pedicure look, then cure the lacquer under the UV light. I add two coats of high-gloss clear coat and cure each of those with the UV light, as well.

I then start working on his fingernails. I cut them back and file them into more of an oval than a squoval. I keep the white portion to three sixteenths of an inch. Then I give him the same French manicure look as his toes, only with a slightly softer pink. It’s still very bright, but overall less flashy.

I remove the mask from his eyes, so he can see the work. He blinks at the sudden light hitting his eyes, then is finally able to focus on his hands. I smile proudly at my work and then jump way back when I’m seriously afraid he truly is going to throw up.

He screeches, “I can’t have long painted nails! These are girl’s nails! They will kill me at the lumberyard! I mean that literally!”

I give him a stern look and scold him, “Nonsense! You work for WG as a reserve model—a WunderGirl—and you will honor your contract! Now, why would anyone want to kill you for looking good—beautiful, even? Unless they’re jealous? Is that it?”

He just glares at me and I say smugly, “Be glad I didn’t go for something longer. We can go for glamour-length in the beautiful red color they’re growing in next time.”

I let that sink in, then fully shut him down, “As a matter of fact, I think that’s exactly what we’ll do!”

He gives me a blank stare. Obviously, that means nothing to him. I doubt they’ll actually grow enough by next week—even at their accelerated rate—for full glamour-length, like a half-inch. But we can probably eek out over a quarter-inch—maybe close to that half-inch. I may not go fully to that length, but he will learn not to question me!

Besides—he needs to learn to live with glamour nails as a model!

To make my point, I just glare back at him and say, “OK, then! It’s time you meet Dharma.”

 

* * * * *
Dharma
* * * * *
 

I look through the rack of new model clothing that came in with the latest shipment. It’s once again time to do the annual purging of the older stuff and I’ll have to set up another sale. It’s too bad I can’t just give it to the girls around here.

That requires a special dispensation from Greta, though—and I don’t have a good enough reason. The last time was after Emily’s house fire.

I hear the door open and peek around the rack to see Joyce come in with a girl that’s clearly going for a sort of androgynous, or maybe a tomboyish look. She’s not really nailing it.

Then it hits me…

“Hi, Joyce! Is this Sam you’re bringing me?”

She nods and I greet him, “Hi, Sam! I hear you’re branching out on your clothing and need some guidance on meeting WG criteria. I’m sure you wonder about why a cosmetics company cares about how employees—especially models—dress. To include when they are off the job.”

I pause as he nods and looks around at the well-stocked room with a bewildered look on his face. I smile at his overwhelmed reaction and continue, “Well, as models, of course, they’re getting photographed and it’s the whole package—not always just closeups of the makeup.”

I check to see if he’s still paying attention. He seems to be, but is still confused as to why he’s here. I continue, “But even when not actively modeling for the camera—either for cosmetics or when contracted out as professional models—our girls are held to a higher standard. They’re ambassadors for WG at all times—that’s why they’re called WunderGirls.”

I wave at Joyce as she winks at me and then leaves him in my capable hands.

I giggle as I get an awesome idea and say, “Stay right here, Hon! I need to send a quick text. Feel free to browse around!” I send a text to Greta and then turn my attention back to Sam. He’s just standing there looking lost.

I sigh and turn a critical eye to his looks and what he has just won’t do. I get that he wants to stay androgynous, but I’m going to push hard to the feminine. It’s clear that’s what Joyce is doing, too. I’m not sure what Brea is up to with the minimalist makeup, though. She needs to get onboard!

I get out my measuring tape and quickly figure out he’s a girl’s size two. He’ll wear a women’s size six shoe. If and when he needs a bra, his strap size will be a twenty—cup size to be determined.

As I finish adding the measurements to his file, Greta texts back and I smile as I read her response.

I put my phone away and start pulling out clothing that will fit him from my ‘discard’ section. The clothes are perfectly good—most maybe worn only once or twice for a shoot. Once they’ve been in more than a couple of shoots, though, Greta doesn’t want them used anymore for internal purposes. Usually, they’re supplied with clothing when contracted out, and they don’t use our WG clothing.

I have a nice pile of excellent quality size two designer women’s clothing—none of which would ever qualify as androgynous, especially not the skirts and dresses—that are now his, no matter his view on them.

I’m just waiting on…

And right on cue, the door opens and Julia comes in. I greet her as she does a double-take when she sees her son.

I clear my throat and say enthusiastically, “So, Julia. I measured Sam and he’s a size two. Can you believe it? Some people just have an in with the Figure Goddess! Anyway, Greta has agreed to donate this year’s size two discards to Sam! Isn’t that great?!”

I’m not getting the excited reaction I was expecting. It’s more like one of shock, as I continue, “Of course, as compensation for WG’s generosity, he’ll be expected to only wear these—or something equally as good and in the same general style, since this is now his style. Greta has already signed off on it in the books and it’s a fully done deal, so I’ll just have this stuff brought out to your car!”

There is still an awkward dead silence from the two.

I mentally shrug and look around before adding, “Oh! You’ll need to get him some appropriate shoes. I can throw in a couple of pairs that will get him started, but we don’t purge them quite as often. Again, he’ll be expected to wear dressy shoes—or fashionable every day and sports ones—that go with his outfit.”

I need to get some sort of reaction out of them, so I ask, “Any questions?”

She’s still staring at Sam—then kind of hiccups when she looks over at me. She asks in a low, stunned voice, “Questions? Uh… No… I don’t guess, so. But…this?”

I giggle at her stunned answer. At least the generous gesture seems to finally be sinking in.

I explain, “Basically, just think of what’s required of you as a model and apply it to Sam. He has to get into the frame of being a WG ambassador. This…,” I gesture towards him, “…is a decent start, I guess—but we need to go next-level! This is exciting! Don’t you think? I don’t often get Greta to agree to a donation like this! Sam’s so lucky!”

I make a quick decision and say, “Just to kick-start this, let’s get Sam in something nicer right now!”

Sam lets out a surprised hiccup, and Julia lets out a gasp. I choose to interpret that to mean they’re excited!

I pick out a lovely emerald green dress that matches the flecks in his eyes and hand it to him—along with a fresh pack of pantyhose and a pair of red, three-inch stiletto pumps that match his lovely lips.

He just sort of gurgles in response to my question of whether he needs my assistance getting dressed, and Julia steps in, “I’ve got it, Dharma. I think Sam’s just a little overwhelmed at the moment.”

She takes Sam into a dressing room and I hear a lot of animated whispering. I think I may hear some whining, but I’m sure I must be mistaken. That simply couldn’t be the case with that dress! It’s absolutely lovely!

After several long minutes, they finally come out. Sam looks stunning! He just needs to work on his presentation—and practice walking in heels! Well, and he needs a little help up top. We’ll get to that later.

He certainly doesn’t look happy, and Julia looks really conflicted.

I don’t care! I exclaim, “Sam! Love! You look absolutely gorgeous in that dress! You need to hurry over to Brea’s, so she can finish up with you. Then we will need to get you practicing in those heels!”

I watch the two walk out—both stunned. I’m sure this was quite the surprise. I mean, Sam just got handed several thousand dollars’ worth of designer clothing. So that has to be what’s got them all so shocked!

I mean it does lock him even firmer into his contract, but Greta seemed pleased with that.

I send Brea a text, knowing he’s headed there next. Sam looks so beautiful in that dress and with Joyce’s work! Now, she simply needs to level-up, too!

 

* * * * *
Brea
* * * * *
 

I read Dharma’s text and fume! Her and Joyce are now conspiring—and I know I’m over a barrel. Greta will be on their side if it comes down to it.

I sigh as he comes in with Julia and nearly drop the tray of cosmetics I’m holding. I can’t believe this is the same boy I met last week—certainly not the same one that I saw in the baseline pictures. There’s not much sign of ‘boy’ left with him in that dress, to be honest. Just his whole demeanor and his lack of development up top—which I’m sure Dharma will be working on soon enough.

I smile encouragingly at him and don’t make a big deal out of his looks. It’s clear that he’s embarrassed enough as I sit him down at the vanity and refresh his eyes and lip stain. I can tell right away that he’s using a different lip gloss and he explains that it’s from Ginny, so I know it’s authorized.

I just don’t understand why she gave him a plumping one—he now has that signature ‘bee-stung’ look of plumped lips to go along with everything else.

I sigh again and say, “OK, Sam. We need to ramp it up a little this week. I won’t go overboard, though. I promise!”

He nervously nods—totally dejected. Any will to argue seems to be wrung out of him.

I look at him critically and decide that eyeshadow would be OK. I just need to go with a light daytime look.

I use earth tones, including bronze, brown, and emerald green that matches the new color of his eyes to cover his eyelids and blend the colors. It also just happens to go with his dress. Then, I add some color to his eyebrows and give them perfect definition.

Of course, the cosmetics are the same special products as the mascara and lip stain—so this makeup won’t come off either.

His eyelashes are now long and thick, but I still add some special mascara that clumps them with just a hint of a matte greenish-black color and some curl—really making his eyes pop. Like the other products, this will last the week.

I sit back to see how it looks. It’s feminine and adds a couple of years to his looks. He now looks more like a sixteen-year-old girl than the thirteen-to-fourteenish he looked with the simpler style from before.

I resist using foundation and blush to do any contouring—then he would be getting the whole WunderGirl package. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold off on that, though! I’m sure there will be pressure from above before long—no later than when he gets called into active modeling.

To be honest, if this is how he’s going to have to be dressing, anyway, I’m not sure why I’m even bothering holding back—other than it’s the principal of the thing.

I give him a friendly and supportive hug in hopes it will cheer him up. It’s a girly thing to do and it surprises him.

But looking like he is now—I feel like he will need to get used to being treated that way!

 

* * * * *
Julia
* * * * *
 

The day has been nothing, if not a challenge! I know I’m blown away—and I can’t begin to think of how Sam must feel. I look over at him sitting in the car next to me and he reminds much more of what I expect Gemma will look like in a couple of years than my youngest son.

He looks stunning in that dress—and that’s so weird to say. He needs to practice walking in those heels and learn to present like a woman in a dress—and that’s even weirder to say!

My trunk and back seat are packed with thousands of dollars of designer women’s clothing, that he is now contractually required to wear, and so—as weird as it all is to say—there’s no question that it has to happen.

I’m not at all looking forward to getting home and Gary finding out about all of this.

I pull into the garage with a sigh and just start unloading things from the trunk. I wordlessly begin carrying the load of clothing to Sam’s room—like that will help hide it.

And, as predicted, Gary goes ballistic! He raves like a lunatic about how his son is not going to dress like a girl and that this will stop now!

I ignore his outburst and make Chad—who just laughs hysterically when he sees Sam—help us carry the cargo to Sam’s room.

While Chad and I are carrying up the clothing, I make Sam clean out his closet—completely. Well, except for the new jeans and tops that he can wear to the lumberyard and get dirty. Then help him put the designer clothing away and cart his old things to the Goodwill bin.

He complains about it all, but especially when I just put the dresses and skirts in the closet instead of throwing them in the Goodwill bin, too—as he wants. That goes for all of the other ultra-feminine things, as well.

He has to get the message—along with Gary—that the dress he currently has on is not just a one-time fluke.

The same goes for the heels. The three pairs that Dharma gave him are all three and four-inch stiletto heels and nice enough, but I’m going to have to get him some flats—and some sports shoes or dress boots that he can wear to the sawmill.

I resolve myself to seriously speak to Gary—Sam can’t keep going to the sawmill. At least not until he gets out from under the contract! It’s not just a matter of pride anymore—I’m seriously worried about what they may do to him there!

And Greta let me know that the donation of clothes will be tacked onto his contract as a bonus.

I just sigh and separate out the least feminine clothing to one side in the closet—ones that may work better at the mill. Then I make him try on more of the things so that I can get a feel for what all he now has.

I’m not at all surprised when they fit like a glove—Dharma knows her measurements. But I am surprised when he looks darling in all of them—I mean he’s just not supposed to look darling in women’s clothing! But with his hair and makeup the way they are, I don’t see my son anymore. He looks like a grown-up, red-headed version of Gemma—or even scarier, like a younger version of me.

If he had breasts filling out the top of the dress, there would be no boy left to see—only a beautiful teenage girl.

Of course, he really complains when I make him put the shoes back on and practice the rest of the evening. I just ignore it, because I know he’ll need to be able to walk in them anytime he goes in to WG. They’ll be expecting it.

I finally just make him come down and face the music with his Dad and the others. We’re going to have to have another family discussion about this. Everyone needs to understand the reasoning—and the stakes here.

Gary is unrelenting in his opposition and rabid response.

Chad just keeps guffawing every time he looks at Sam—which so doesn’t help.

Gemma basically doesn’t care—she’s just mad that he gets to wear makeup and I still won’t let her. I emphatically remind her that Sam is fifteen and is plenty old enough—and that’s just so weird that I have to even defend him doing it. Of course, Gemma is on the verge of being old enough herself. Gary has been more resistant to it than me.

After about an hour of all of this, I give up and just find out what takeout everyone wants from the Chinese restaurant at the mall.

Of course, Sam’s still in his heels, but now just in nice dress pants and a blouse, when I make him get in the car to go with me and get it. He steadfastly refuses to come inside the mall, though—until I promise him that we’ll stop at the shoe store and get him some flats and boots that he can wear home.

I mean, he won’t like what I have in mind, but he doesn’t know that. And it’s not like I have much choice.

---

"Now, look at me! I’m dressed in girls’ pants and a blouse—and I have a closet full of skirts and dresses!" Sam complained.

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WunderGirl

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

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~ Day 18 ~
 

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* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I climb into the car with Mom. It’s her lunch hour and she’s picking me up early from the lumberyard and taking me back to work with her.

This whole week has been horrific!

When I went in to work at the lumberyard on Tuesday—after my week two check-in debacle—I was of course the target of complete ridicule by the guys. That was bad enough, but the homophobic section was downright nasty.

I was in fear for my life all week!

Well maybe it wasn’t quite that bad, but I was certainly afraid of some “accident” happening while out in the yard or mill.

“It’s just too bad that the freak broke its neck while accidentally falling off that pile of logs….” I can just hear what they would be saying while they look down on my bloodied body.

Old man Rollings was at a loss as to what to do with me, all week. Or, for that matter, how to really protect me from the verbal or potential physical abuse, so he kept me mostly inside and out of sight. I basically just made coffee all week and did some sweeping inside the store.

I haven’t even worried about putting on “work” clothes the last couple of days, since I haven’t been getting dirty, at all. That’s been a two-edged sword, because Mom has been making dress “nicely,” instead. That has put me squarely in the “girly” column, which has not helped my case, in the least.

I wonder, though, if she’s been doing that on purpose.

If that was her strategy, it worked perfectly. As embarrassing as it’s been, Mr. Rollings finally called Dad today. After three full days of torture, and the beginnings of another, he let him know that this just wouldn’t work.

Period.

So, this morning was my last day at the lumberyard—which is just fine by me!

Of course, Dad has been pissed with my new “look” ever since the check-in. Again, I didn’t ask for any of this—I’m not any happier than he is on that front.

I thought I was just testing some bodywash! I never really intended to sign on to any of this girly stuff!

I mean, I know I sort of agreed to it—but I didn’t really know that’s what I was doing! Isn’t why they won’t let minors sign contracts, in the first place? The parents are supposed to know better—and look out for them?

I didn’t overhear any of the conversation between Mr. Rollings and Dad, but I do know it will be another unpleasant evening at home. And I’m not looking forward to the upcoming family meeting that’s sure to come when we get there.

I look at Mom and lament, “I don’t get it, Mom. Everyone’s mad at me! I didn’t sign up for any of this! I just thought it was using some body wash, and shampoo and stuff!”

She looks back over at me and sighs.

“Well, you did sign up for it, Hon. It’s all in your contract. Yes, some of it’s my fault since I pushed you into the reserve modeling for my benefit, but you can’t abstain from any fault. You wanted to enter the trial and even went off on your own to do it! We were trying to treat you like an adult and trusted this is what you want. And the modeling part sweetened the pot as much for you, as it did for me.”

I groan. “But it was only supposed to be testing some body wash! Now, look at me! I’m dressed in girls’ pants and a…a…a blouse—and I have to carry a purse because there aren’t any real pockets for my wallet! Worse, I have a closet full of skirts and dresses!”

I fight tears as I continue to moan. “I have make-up on that won’t come off and red hair. My eyes are turning green, and my finger and toenails are growing red! My ears are pierced, and I have to practice walking in heels!”

I throw my hands in the air. “How is that anything that I would have signed up for? I’m not a girl, Mom!”

She shakes her head and sighs. “I know you’re not a girl, Hon. Unfortunately, WG contracts were designed for women, though. I didn’t really think that through when I agreed to that modification of your contract. To be honest, I didn’t think it would ever even apply to you! Who in their right mind would have ever thought that they would actually hold you to it?”

She pauses, then lamely adds, “Think of it this way, though. At least you got out of working at the lumberyard. If you hadn’t been dressed that way, you would still be there.”

I gurgle. I mean, yes—but at what cost? If this keeps on, I’ll have to go back to school this way!

That can’t happen!

She puts another nail in my coffin as she pulls into the WG employee parking lot and adds, “Oh, your heels are in the back seat, Hon—put them on. At least you have semi-nice clothes on, and you didn’t get dirty this morning! We will have to work with what we have.”

I sigh and reach into the back to get the three-inch stilettos, then slip off the ballet flats I have on. The “flats” aren’t my favorites either, but they’re still better than the heels!

I barely notice the lilac scent of my deodorant waft out from my underarms as I raise my arms anymore—but the extended tingling of the product is certainly worth putting up with the floral scent when I am reminded of it.

I shake my head and reach into my purse….

I sigh. That’s something else I’m still getting used to, but begrudgingly have to admit that it is sort of practical—as long as you don’t forget it somewhere like I’ve done.

I find my lip gloss and take it out to refresh the coating on my lips.

I feel the warm tingling spread through my lips and on to my face, which causes me to smile—it’s just so refreshing! Like with the deodorant, the price of my swollen lips—something that scared me to death the first time I saw it—is worth the exhilarating feeling.

I don’t like the cosmetics, and I don’t like the clothing that I have to wear—it is…embarrassing to have to wear either. But I do like the feelings that come from the body care products and the feeling of being “alive” that they give me.

Even though the original products barely make me tingle anymore—the deodorant and gloss really work. If the price of getting those is being embarrassed, I guess I will have to live with it—for now.

I would really hate to lose the benefits!

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

I look at the message that just came in from Greta concerning Sam Brinkley and smile. It seems that Julia just brought him in for the afternoon. His demeaning torture at the sawmill is over.

It’s about time! Not that I care that they tortured him.

He’s stupid for even working there in the first place. The first thing he needs to learn as a WunderGirl is how to pitch a hissy fit!

His father is an idiot, and Sam will have to learn. I think there may also be hope for Julia—with a little molding.

No matter, we’ll get Sam whipped into shape! I will make sure that he gets it—the success of this part of the trial depends on it. I won’t let him mess that up!

I smile. Things have just fallen into place on this—and now I think it’s time to go to the next level.

He’s clearly fully sensitized—and he would have started noticing the fading effects of the Phase 1 products soon enough. If he hasn’t already….

Ginny going out on her own, and giving him the deodorant and plumper should be pissing me off—she broke protocol. Normally, we would wait until the start of desensitization has been confirmed before beginning any kind of Phase 2 product.

But in this case, it genuinely will work out in my favor. And we already have all of the Phase 1 data we really need, at this point, anyway.

So, I’ll be magnanimous and give her a pass—this time.

Getting Sam to use cosmetics fulltime even goes a step further to prove my theory than my original plan—especially with that potential issue with the psych exam. So, I can afford to be generous. Even though that certainly goes against my nature.

I shrug off this cloak of…decency…and check back through all of his records. I need to send an update to my board contact, anyway. They will then update the powers-that-be at the Firm.

I pull out the picture portfolio from his file. I haven’t followed up on Sam this week and the pictures from the beginning of this week are amazing. I would never have guessed that this much progress could be made with a boy.

I hadn’t honestly considered a full public feminization of him—not in the beginning. Of course, I would have ultimately done some provocative testing with cosmetic. There has always been the need to see if he would even bite at the mere consideration of them.

That, however, would not have been until after using targeted test body care products to set the Phase 2 addiction. Adding a few targeted cosmetics, at that point, simply to test the waters and see if he would bite on contemplating using them to feed the low-level addiction would have provided some interesting data points.

This is where the brilliance of adding the “reserve modeling” clause came in—again something that just fell into my lap. But it was my genius that jumped on it and made the potential turn into reality. The fact that our modeling contracts are outdated and written for “old-fashioned” women, isn’t something I was initially adequately considering as to what it would mean for a boy.

When Ginny jumped the gun on, I was afraid it would bring the whole idea crashing down. Normally, I would have her head for it! The fact that Joyce went off and required full implementation of the contract—something I’m still not clear on why she did--it all worked out. Ginny’s ad-libbing just played into the whole thing.

Julia has no idea what avalanche she started with her desire to be a model—I will just talk it up to fate!

Sure, what Ginny just did what I likely would have ultimately done, anyway. She just should have checked with me first.

We will talk…later.

I will still have to deal with the unintended negative consequences of this whole fortuitous event, though. Using the contract to push Sam into fulltime cosmetic use puts a bias on the whole question of whether a boy would simply submit to using them—without any other pressures.

We will have to do another trial on that, now—and I have just the idea.

So, all will be well, in the long run.

I turn my attention back to the file. I encrypt everything and send the update to my contact, then prepare a message to send back to Greta.

“Hi Greta, thanks for the update. This is timely! I have some second phase products for Sam Brinkley to start on—and that can be today. I’ll have Ginny bag them up for him. But he won’t be able to use the extended wear cosmetics, anymore. He’ll have to use special ‘normal’ cosmetics for this phase.”

“Can Brea give him lessons? I would prefer it be the whole package, at this point, though—so I can assess any issues with the entire pallet.

“Maybe it’s time to think about fully activating him? Do you have any work he could do?”

I reread it and send it off with a mischievous smile. Then I send a message to Ginny to take the products over to M&M.

It’s time to see if the Phase 2 addiction will initiate, as designed, using the additional products—and how he will ultimately react to the effects.

 

* * * * *
Greta
* * * * *
 

I’m surprised to see Julia bring Sam in after lunch.

Of course, I have to find out why and can’t say that I’m surprised that he didn’t make it at the lumberyard, when I do. The thing is, even if he didn’t look totally like a girl right now—he just doesn’t have the stature for working there.

That’s just no place for a sweet boy like him! And I’m sure his more feminine presence caused quite a stir with some of the ogres over there!

I just don’t get Gary’s thinking in making him go. I know Julia was against it, and I’m pretty sure she intentionally encouraged and amped up his girlyness when he was going to the lumberyard—just to get him out of it.

Thankfully, the ogres over there didn’t hurt him—and he didn’t hurt himself! I’m not sure Julia really thought that one through…. But then, we all know she can be impulsive in her decisions.

I shake my head and send a message to Lissa, so she can update his file—technically, he works for her. At least for now.

That could easily change. If and when we invoke his modeling clause, he will then also work for M&M. Then we will share his time—other than that, not much will change. She will still have ultimate control over what products he uses—but we will maintain control over his look.

I’m sorely tempted to activate him. He has potential according to Becky—she says he’s easy to work with. And the pictures of him in full makeup are so cute! He could be a real asset.

I’m just not sure how the others will react to that thought.

As I’m thinking about how to convince the others to go along with my idea, I get a message back from Lissa. I help but smile, as I nod to myself. It seems that she and I are completely on the same page in terms of getting our money’s worth from Sam!

I think about that and decide that I need to talk to Julia about him wearing more of the wardrobe that we donated to him. Those dresses are so lovely—and quite expensive. There is simply no sense in him just leaving them hanging unused in the closet.

He looks OK in the slacks and blouse he’s wearing right now, but it’s not up to the level of a true WunderGirl. And with him now being fully activated he will certainly need to step it up!

So, now I just have to inform him of his revised status. It should be interesting to see how he reacts to the news. Somehow, I’m not sure he will take it as an “upgrade.”

I’m still not sure how Lissa got him—well Gary—to sign the contract with that modification. I know why Julia did. To be honest, I would never have thought of it if Lissa hadn’t brought it up….

It will be interesting to see how he does. I can only hope he takes it seriously—breaching the terms of our contract is never a good option. The penalties are very severe.

I think through what has to be immediately be done.

He won’t be presenting as a boy for a while after this—and we’ll have to ramp up his feminine persona. Especially since he doesn’t even have one.

Dresses are to be his norm, moving forward. While not a specific contractual requirement, I can require it. It will help him get him in the proper mindset of a WunderGirl!

Yes, this should be interesting, indeed. It’s not that I’m for feminizing the boy, but I have no need for a boy wearing makeup.

At least not at the moment. Any option like that will come much too late for Sam—if we ever even do go down that road. I know Lissa has been thinking about it, and has been working on the board to approve another trial. So we could have a potential new line for boys, so that need may come later.

I shake my head, and put that out of my mind, while I finish up some other urgent business.

I am quickly brought back to all things “Sam,” though, about ten minutes later, when Ginny drops off his new products.

I quickly thank her, and take them with me to go to talk to Brea.

There’s a lot to get moving on. We have to get Sam ready to fully represent WunderGirl as a full-fledged model. He has a lot to learn in a short amount of time. All of our new WunderGirls go through intensive and extensive training, but we typically don’t have to focus on the “Girl” part of “WunderGirl.” Our initiates are usually well-steeped in that part.

Sam is going to have to learn all of that—starting with makeup. We are a cosmetics company first and foremost, after all!

But he’s basically going to have to learn to present as a girl from the ground up. I’m sure Dharma and Joyce will be more than happy to work with him on that, given their past involvement with him. And Becky can amp up his modeling lessons.

Brea may resist a little, but I know that she will ultimately do what is expected of her.

That leaves Sam. He probably won’t like any of it.

Not that it matters—a contract is a contract!

 

* * * * *
Brea
* * * * *
 

I shake my head as Greta tells me the news about Sam.

I was just talking to him and Julia a few minutes ago. While he seems to be elated about being out from under the lumberyard job, he’s certainly conflicted about the reasons for that happening.

And I’m about to make that worse. Much, much worse!

I knew that Joyce and Dharma were pushing the envelope—for whatever reason. But now Lissa and Greta are involved—and that means I have no choice but to go all-out from here on out.

I sigh and look through the cosmetics that Ginny dropped off. For all intents and purposes, there doesn’t seem to be any difference from normal WG products. But I’m sure there’s something different about them.

At least they got the color pallet right—he won’t look like a clown.

It’s maybe a little sophisticated for a normal fifteen-year-old—girl, that is. But it’s completely in line with what a full WunderGirl is expected to wear.

A timid knocking on the door alerts me to Sam coming back to my little corner of the world.

He says, “Excuse me, Brea. Greta said to come see you?”

I sigh and say, “Come on in, Hon. I have some good news—and some that you may find…less good.”

He gets a look on his face that is a strange combination of hope, confusion, and concern.

I plow ahead with a deep sigh. I guess Greta is putting it on me to give him the “news.”

“The good news is that I’m going to remove the semi-permanent makeup. You won’t be wearing it anymore. The flip side of that is—it’s a bear to get off.”

I pause and just throw it out. “And…I have to teach you to do your own daily makeup—the whole package. Like I did for your first session with me.”

His face falls as he collapses into the chair at the vanity.

It’s like he’s lost all hope.

I give him a hug and say, “I’m sorry, Hon. It seems you’ve entered the next phase of your trial, which is a good thing! But that means that you’re moving to next-level products—and the extended wear ones I was using on you are incompatible with the trial. Lissa wants you to use the full spectrum since you’re going to be using daily wear now anyway.”

He blows out his air and says, “I know it’s not your fault, Brea. This is just so overwhelming! So, you’re telling me I have to wear full makeup, now—like Mom?”

I nod and shrug. “Yes—just adjusted for your look. We’ll finish tweaking that as I teach you how to apply it and create that final look. I don’t suppose you have any wishes—besides not wearing it or a completely natural look? Neither of those are an option—WunderGirls are supposed to show off the product.”

He gives me a look and retorts, “But I’m not a girl, so how can I be a WunderGirl?”

I shake my head and purse my lips. I have to stay strong.

“But you—well your parents for you…. But you wanted it…. Anyway, you signed a WunderGirl contract. Like it or not, from a contractual standpoint, you are a WunderGirl—just a reserve one.”

I don’t mention that they are preparing to activate him, based on what Greta just told me. That will set a whole new plethora of things into motion.

I blow out my air and continue, “In any case, there’s no sense belaboring the point. I’m going to start removing the extended wear makeup. This will sting a bit, and I’m afraid I’ll have to scrub pretty hard.”

Ten minutes of scrubbing with a special harsh cleanser later, I’m putting on a special moisturizer to replenish the oils that I just completely stripped out of his skin.

I take another look at his freshly cleaned and shining face, and notice that his eyes are now completely a very beautiful shade of emerald green. There are no more flecks—they have all melded together, and his old brown color is now fully consumed by the new green.

I take a deep breath and start explaining the proper use of makeup.

“OK, this is foundation. You will use this after you put on your day cream in the mornings….”

I explain the process of correctly applying the foundation with a damp makeup sponge, then how to do the rest of his face, including full eye makeup, brows, contouring, and blush. When I’m done, he once again looks like a gorgeous porcelain doll that has flawless skin.

I wonder about the strange look he has on his face the entire time, though. It’s not like the first time that I put makeup on him—where you could tell it was a foreign feel and smell to him. This time, it’s like he is enjoying the feel of the makeup.

It’s really strange how he is reacting, though. It’s not that he seems to be enjoying the prospect of wearing makeup itself—just the feel of the makeup on his skin. I don’t know how to explain it—something is just “off” with his reaction.

He groans as I show him how to remove my work, and then start having him apply it all himself.

As I hand him the makeup sponge, I say, “Just remember, Hon, if you don’t measure up, you’ll be in breach of contract. I think Lissa already explained to you what that means.”

After three run-throughs, he’s doing a surprisingly good job—and I relent.

He actually seems to have an aptitude for makeup!

Julia comes in right at that moment, and I notice it’s time for them to go home anyway.

I look at Julia and smile. Regardless of the circumstances, I’m proud of what he has achieved.

“Sam’s doing great for someone who’s never done this! I want him to continue practicing over the weekend, though. I videoed my first application and have posted it to the normal YouTube channel for him—just in case there are any questions. I’m sure you can help answer any questions, too. You’re certainly very adept at it all, yourself! There are plenty of supplies to get him through the weekend. I’ll restock anything on Monday that’s running low.”

I look back at Sam and give him his final instructions for the day.

“Also, Ginny wants you to just discard any of the old body care supplies—except for the deodorant and lip gloss. I know you probably still have nearly full containers, so don’t worry. Just pour it all down the drain, rinse out the bottles, and bring them with you on Monday. Throw anything that won’t go down the drain in the trash. It’s important to make a clean break from the old, and start the new products tonight.”

Julia promises to ensure it’s taken care of, and I hug Sam. He’s in some sort of trance and timidly hugs me back—then follows his Mom out.

I sigh and finish cleaning up things. I make every attempt to put him out of my mind for now. It won’t help either of us if I continue to dwell on it.

Anyway, it’s time to start my own weekend!

 

* * * * *
Gary
* * * * *
 

I hang up with James and am boiling mad!

I mean, I’m not mad at him—he’s been doing his level best trying to keep my son safe at the lumberyard.

That is, if that even is my son anymore!

I understand why James had problems with him at the yard. I just wanted him to learn the value of a hard day’s work and be a man!

Instead, he’s more of a girl now than ever before.

At least he never acted like a girl before all this nonsense! I mean, I never got the impression that he was a sissy, or anything—just short on man-juice. I simply don’t understand what’s suddenly going on with him.

And Julia seems to be happy to go along with it—whatever “it” is. More than that—she seems to be encouraging it!

They’re turning my son into a freak!

I need to put a stop to this—right now! This can’t go on!

I call Roger Brown, my attorney, and explain what’s going on. I send him an electronic copy of the contract from my files. I let him know I want him fully review the damned thing—there has to be a way to break it!

He promises to take a look and get back to me.

Two hours later, he calls back and gets straight to the point. “Well, Gary. I don’t know how to break this to you….”

He takes a deep breath and continues, “If anything, they’ve been going light on Sam. They can still ramp this up considerably—I have no doubt they probably will, given what I know about their experimental trials. My daughter, Rhonda, has told me all about them.”

He pauses a moment and adds, “For full disclosure, she does work at WunderGirl, but it’s not a conflict in this case since they don’t have me on retainer. Yet.”

He pauses again, and I hear paper shuffling before he adds to my misery.

“Bottom line, if Sam doesn’t explicitly follow all instructions and finish the trial, he is in breach of contract. Since you signed for him as his guardian—that falls on you. The penalties are severe, and you would likely get jail time.”

He lets that sink in, then continues, “I don’t think you could afford it financially. It’s all compounded by the fact that you let them modify it with this ‘reserve’ model clause—and then took the money up front. After that, they gave him thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes—as a bonus. On top of that…Julia’s contract is intricately intertwined with his.”

He takes another deep breath and sighs. “I really wish you would have consulted with me before you signed this. Bottom line—you’re stuck with it now! More to the point—Sam is stuck with it.”

I feel faint as he finishes nailing my coffin shut. “Unless you can show that they got you to sign it in bad faith—or they are somehow else in breach themselves—I see no way to break this. You’ve given me nothing to support anything nefarious. It’s completely iron-clad, which is what I would fully expect from a global, near-trillion-dollar company.”

I suck in my breath and…well…whine. “You’re sure? Really?”

He says, “Suck it up, man! At least your wife got a great gig out of it, right? And when the trial is over, your son should have a nice college egg! I can’t really blame him for not wanting to work at the sawmill! That place is barbaric! So what, if he has to wear a little makeup over the summer? It’s not like that makes him a girl, or anything!”

I groan and close out the call before I say something inappropriate. I may still need him before this is all over with.

I go and open my first beer of the day.

So what, if it’s only noon…?

---

It’s just what I want—another “opportunity” to have to wear expensive girly clothes.

---

 

WunderGirl

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

---

 
 
~ Day 29 ~
 

---

 

* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I look nervously over at Momma. She’s driving us to wherever the photoshoot is, today.

We’re supposed to be modeling designer clothing, of some sort. It’s supposedly some special “honor” to be picked for this shoot. It’s just what I want—another “opportunity” to have to wear expensive girly clothes. And, this time, there will be public pictures to prove it. At least the profile pictures at WG are not…openly available. I guess they are semi-public, though. This Adam Ansel saw them…

I feel like I’m going to throw up!

I try and think of something else. Anything, other than the shoot! Unfortunately, I start thinking about the past week. It was weird, but it all seems to be becoming my new “normal,” for the summer.

So, I went into work with Momma, every day, the entire past week.

While there, I was subjected to learning how to dress like a model—an extremely girly one. Of course, that was with Dharma. It was one embarrassing scene, after another. For one, she started adding jewelry and other accessories to my “style.” In addition, she has been making me learn how to properly use them to correctly “accessorize.” I had no idea that you could do a hundred different things with just a belt. If you add in scarves, purses, shoes, hats, and all the different jewelry, then there are seeming endless “styles,” that can be achieved.

Of course, nothing worn, or any style, can be repeated on adjacent days, or for similar occasions over any timespan, since that breaks some girly-girl dress code and feminine rules of conduct—and the world would come to an end! And, of course, Dharma is always right there—happy to play the fashion police, judge, and jury!

But she wasn’t my only tormentor. Joyce spent the week, having me learn how to do different styles with my hair. It is now fully down to my shoulders, and I learned how to put it in ponytails, buns, and all kinds of braids. Then there were multitudes of “up-dos.” So, I had to spend hours “playing” with my hair, as Joyce called it. I won’t say what I would call it—of course, never to her face!

But she didn’t just stick to my hair. When I begged her to let me have shorter nails, she said I hadn’t really learned my lesson yet. I look down at them—they are still as long as before—a quarter of an inch. They are still filed square, and are shiny, and bright red. Not that I really need much polish anymore, to have them that color. Not with the freakish way, they are now growing. I sigh. Trying to do anything with them is a nightmare! I can’t grab anything…or hold anything…or just plain do anything with them! They’re always in the frickin way! I shake my head and would clinch my fists in frustration, but the nails would hurt my hand.

I sigh and look in the mirror on the back of the sun visor. My hair is currently pulled back into a tight, high ponytail, showing off my dangly “diamond” earrings. Joyce and Dharma have both been after me to change my earrings every day. Their preference is that I wear dangly ones, or large hoops. They like the way they look with my longer hair, since they aren’t hidden by the hair, when I wear it down. Personally, I would prefer none, at all—or, at least studs, that would stay hidden—but that’s not currently in my cards, I guess.

Brea, who is usually the sane one at work, has continued to coach me on different makeup looks, and I’m getting pretty good at mastering all of them. She has been…oddly quiet, though. I think what they’re doing to me bothers her. But I also get that she needs her job, with her sick mother, and all. She just told me about her, this week—and I guess the hospital and doctor bills are staggering. I hope none of us ever get cancer!

At home, Daddy barely talks to me anymore—and just chugs his beers, when he’s around me. Chad treats me more like he does Gemma—that is more as a sister, than a brother. Gemma has kind of latched onto me, and has been begging me to teach her how to do makeup. Momma even bought her some and said it was OK for her to learn—just not wear it out. Now, that’s really weird—me teaching my sister how to do makeup.

Momma and I are mostly getting along. Like Chad, she’s treating me like a girl—like her daughter. She talks more freely with me, but differently…it’s weird! She is also reinforcing all my lessons, from any given day—all to get me ready for the modeling. She seems to think she’s doing me a favor….

On the one hand, it’s hard to believe that I’ve been in the trial now for a full month. On the other, it seems like a lifetime! I don’t really notice the makeup—or my constant floral scent—anymore. All I know is that, when Ginny made it clear that the makeup and the scent were the price for that wonderful tingling feeling that gets and keeps me going, it was a slam-dunk that I would pay that price. I mean it’s just for a few more weeks—then things will go back to normal for school!

I shake my head. I’m beginning to forget what “normal” is, anymore.

I sigh and feel my stomach turn as Momma pulls into the parking lot for the shoot, and I see Greta there waiting for us.

Becky has worked really hard with me on learning how to follow instructions for the camera. And how to quickly change clothing, during a shoot. I’m as ready as I can be, all things considered….

But I’m still really nervous about today.

 

* * * * *
Julia
* * * * *
 

I look over at Sam. I can’t believe this past week. I can’t believe what I’m letting them do to my son…to what…I’m as much a party to, as they are.

Does that make me a bad mother? I certainly hope not! There are benefits to what he is doing…he’s not stuck at the lumberyard. And he’s making really good money!

But I have to admit—right now, he looks much more like my daughter, than my son. He looks like an older Gemma…. It does freak me out, some. It certainly has Gary…pissed….

Because of what’s going to be contractually expected of him, I’ve watched the girls at work slowly steep him in the basics of passing as a girl model. That’s what his contract his calls for. It’s not what any of expected. It is what we are all going to have to live with. I know that’s mostly on Sam….

He’s mostly been a good sport about it. He’s grumbled…and griped—but there is something that keeps him motivated to push forward. Something other than just the contract. I just don’t know what that something is…. It actually worries me…more than just a little.

Once we get to the site of the shoot, I sigh and park the car.

Greta is already here and looks cheerful. She goes over to talk to the man, who must be Adam Ansel, as Sam and I get out of the car. She talks to him for a few minutes, then brings him over to meet us.

I don’t know what he was expecting, but I guess we’re not it. Well, Sam isn’t, anyway. It seems he isn’t girly enough for him, including his name.

I can tell that Sam is ready to go—I just pray that he holds it together. Thankfully, once we get started, Adam warms up to us—and Sam settles down.

Adam is a task master…and very demanding. But Sam and I both are easy to work with. Becky has seen to that. We both follow every detail of his instructions and don’t question him, or argue. The only problem is, when he wants Sam to do things, that would be second nature for a seasoned girl model—or, at least pretty natural, for most girls. Sam has no idea how to do them—at least not in anything close to a natural way.

So, by the end of the day, Adam is actually smiling, and promises that we will be hearing from him again, soon. I’m just worried about his demand, that Greta do something about Sam being “so flat on top.”

But I’m most worried about Greta’s promise to make sure that’s not an issue, for the next time. And, how Sam will take that.

 

* * * * *
Adam
* * * * *
 

Gerome unloads my stuff from the trunk, while I thoroughly check all of my equipment. I learned a long time ago, not to just trust that the settings are correct. It’s easy to leave something on some quirky setting from the last shoot—and wind up with ruined shots.

Gerome takes off in the car, and I’m just checking the charge on my batteries, when Greta comes over.

“Good morning, Adam!” She’s in a seemingly very good mood. “Was that Gerome? Is he coming back?”

I sigh, and shut off my camera—satisfied that the batteries are fully charged, and everything is correctly set. “Yes, he had to go be at his own location, today. He’ll be back later to pick me up, after he’s done with his shoot. I really need to get him a car.” He shrugs. “At least, it looks like our girls are on time.”

She smiles and takes me over to introduce them to me.

I look at the daughter and frown. She’s not exactly what I expected from the pictures. And I hate nicknames. If someone was supposed to be called by a short version of their name, then that should be their name—especially when the short version is a boy’s name and inappropriately used for a girl.

I look at this “Sam” and shake my head. “I don’t like shortened names. Is ‘Sam’ your actual name?”

Greta jumps in before she answers. “I’m sorry, Adam. This is Samantha Brinkley.”

Samantha blinks and Julia hiccups.

I wonder what’s wrong with her given name. I hope this isn’t an indication of how the day is going to go! Finally, I nod. “OK. I’m glad to meet both of you. Now let’s get straight to work.”

I look them both over. The mother is everything I expected—at least in looks. But Samantha—she is another matter. I grumble. “My, I didn’t notice in your profile shots just how flat you are. Greta, you need to do something about that with her, if I’m going to continue working with her. It won’t be an issue today, but….”

I shake my head and walk off, without finishing my thought. I hope this wasn’t a mistake!

Thankfully, they are both great to work with—even if Samantha is very green and much too tomboyish. Overall, the days goes very well, and I’m extremely happy with the location proofs. I pack up my gear and already think about which shoot to use them on, next.

I mutter to Greta, as Gerome puts my packs in the car. “Get Samantha shaped up. She needs to lose the tomboy attitude. I have some things that I could use her for. But she needs the right curves…and she needs to learn to act like a proper girl.”

 

* * * * *
Greta
* * * * *
 

I decide to come to the shoot, since it’s both Sam and Julia’s first contract shoot, together. Technically, it’s the first real shoot, period, for Sam. At least Julia’s done several actual shoots for WG. Although, I wouldn’t call her a pro, just yet.

It looks like Sam is ready to throw up, as they get out of the car. I hope he can pull himself together! Adam Ansel is a genius with the cameral, but a hard photographer to work for. Normally, I wouldn’t have two novices doing this—but he saw their “group” profile pictures and specifically requested them. That is as good a news for them as for WG, but the pressure is on them to perform. And if Adam ever found out that Sam isn’t a girl, I’m not sure what he would do…

I really need to come up with a contingency plan on that one. Maybe I need to brainstorm ideas with Lissa.

I look over at Adam, and am pretty sure I recognize Gerome, his son, helping him. But he takes off, just as I go over to greet Adam. He confirms it was Gerome, and I smile at the look I noticed he was giving Sam, as he drove by. I shrug off the thought, and take Adam over to introduce him to Julia and Sam.

His first reaction in less than stellar. He takes one look at Sam and frowns. While he seems fine with Julia, he is seemingly unhappy with Sam’s appearance. He is especially aggravated with Sam’s lack of breasts. I should have thought of that being a potential issue—at least we’re not doing swimwear!

When he stalks off, after the introduction, I look at Sam and shrug. “We’ll need to get you some breast forms. I should have thought of that before today—that’s on me. But we certainly won’t make that mistake in the future! I’ll get Dharma working on that, ASAP….”

The rest of the shoot goes amazingly well—both Julia and Sam are naturals to work with. They follow Adam’s instructions, without causing any scenes.

And Adam seems pleased with them both. He especially seems to reconsider his opinion of Sam.

The one thing that I do notice, that is another potential issue, is that, while Sam knows how to dress and do his makeup, he’s still sorely lacking in naturally acting like a girl. Yes, he knows to sweep his dress and cross his legs—Julia has beaten that into him. He just doesn’t really move, act, or speak like a girl normally would.

I am pretty sure that it irks Adam, as well, when he wants him to strike a pose that any girls would naturally be able to, but Sam struggles with.

I know that Joyce and Dharma have begun working on his deportment, but they’re going to have move that to warp speed, and get him acting appropriately, in record time.

While I know he’s not a girl, the photographers don’t. And that’s going to eventually be an issue—it actually already has. We need to fully remedy that…and expeditiously!

And I was right—Adam flatly makes the same point, before he leaves.

I sigh and give them some notes, then let Julia and Sam go ahead on home. The day is over, anyway…after the hours-long shoot. There’s no sense in making them go in to the office….

 

* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

So, I thought today was going to be bad, but I was completely wrong! It’s going to be way worse, than just “bad!”

Mr. Ansel starts out on the wrong foot, when he gets all upset, that my name is “Sam!”

Then, Greta gets all freaky, and tells him that it’s really “Samantha!”

I about have a heart attack! But I don’t say anything—I’m sure Momma will set it all straight.

She doesn’t!

Then Mr. Adams starts in on me being…“flat.” What does he expect? I’m a guy! Of course, I don’t have breasts!

I just want to tell Mom that I’m ready to go home, after Greta says that I need to start using “breast forms.” The fact that she’s buying into this whole…idea…that me being “flat” is a problem, doesn’t sit well with me. And the fact that Mom doesn’t stand up for me, makes it even worse.

I have to admit, though, that when we actually finally get started with the shoot, things get a lot better.

Becky has worked hard with me, to learn how to do what the session photographer wants.

Mr. Adams is really demanding—way more than Becky ever is. But because of what Becky taught me, I mostly do pretty well figuring out what he wants. My big problem arises, when he wants me to do a bunch of girly things. I have no idea what to do. He wants me to do things, like make “cute” kissy faces…and generally walk and move like a girl.

I’m doing good to walk at all, in these four-inch stiletto heels—and not tripping. And what does a girl “move” like, anyway? Don’t even get me started on having to worry about not breaking or chipping one of these impossible nails, and having Joyce be all over me! Then I have to be careful about not messing up my makeup—at least there is someone here to redo it, if I do. I just try and take my cues from Momma, and do the best I can—but I feel like a total idiot!

Overall, Mr. Adams seems to be satisfied with Momma and me, by the end of the day. At least he’s not yelling at us—and he even occasionally smiles. But I have to wonder what he’s talking to Greta about, right before he leaves with the boy who comes to pick him up. His actions raise my suspicions—especially, when he gives me furtive glances while he’s whispering to Greta.

Greta is just nodding and seemingly agreeing with what he is saying—and steeling occasional glances, in my direction.

Then, finally, after Mr. Adams leaves—a very long and hard day—Greta gives a worn-out Momma and me some “notes,” on what we could have done better, and on what we did well. And, we finally get to leave for the day.

“So, what did you think, Hon?” Mom is driving us home and seems contemplative.

I sigh and grimace. “I guess it was OK. I felt like an idiot, though, when Mr. Adams wanted me to do all of those girly things. Momma! I’m not a girl! And what’s with Greta wanting me to get…what did she call them? Breast forms? Why is everyone out to make me all girly?”

Mom nods and purses her lips. “Hon, the photographers think you are a girl. And, yes…“breast forms.” They’re the easiest way to give you realistic curves up top, since you will need to look the role. I think you also should prepare yourself, that Greta will have your deportment lessons from Joyce and Dharma increased….”

I groan. “Can my life get any worse, Mom? This sucks!”

She just shakes her head, and silently drives the rest of the way home.

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

I look through Sam’s files, and once again compare them to the others’ in the trial.

As already noted, the first phase fully sensitized him to the substance—as planned. I now have enough data to show that the Phase 1 sensitization works through the cosmetic products—even transdermally.

Phase 2 is also proving very effective. And Sam is showing that an overall transdermal product-based model could work. He’s appropriately responding to the products with the special ingredients—mostly the body mist and the perfume. Although, there are also low levels of the extract in the deodorant and the lip balm.

In total, the sensitization and addiction cycles seem to be working perfectly! Not just in Sam, but overall.

Being a chemical and mathematical genius has its moments! I could just work in research, for the paltry six figures that my “official” position, as research Director, affords me, But why should I? The powers-that-be, on the board, are getting million-dollar bonuses, each quarter. That’s on top of their seven figure salaries.

I look at the results of my computer modeling and see that they confirm that my plan will work—with a ninety-nine point nine, nine percent accuracy. No one will be able to trace any of this back to anything nefarious. At least, not without major computing power—and somewhere to actually begin the investigation….

The whole process will be truly randomized, so the chances that anyone will trace it are infinitesimal. No one will know which products have the sensitization extract, since it will be randomly distributed in ten percent of the base products—well…to begin with. That will include all types of body wash, shampoo, conditioner, day and night creams, serums, and so on.

The addiction extract will then be randomly distributed ten percent—again, to start with—of cosmetic products. That will include things, like foundation, lipstick, eyeshadow, and so forth.

It will then be purely random how people combine those base and cosmetic products. That randomization will drive who gets sensitized by the base products—and to what level the addictive cosmetics are combined with it.

Once our market share of those products starts increasing, because of those that do get addicted, we can slowly ramp up the percentage of product with the extracts, which will drive up the addictions. We only have to increase global market shares by about an additional ten percent, to basically control the global cosmetics market!

I’m pulled back to reality, when I get a notification that a message has come in. I check my email and see it’s from Greta. She basically has no clue, but she is very useful as a tool!

According to her message, it seems that our Sam is in need of “female assets,” for his modeling—especially for upcoming sessions with Adam Ansel. I sit back and ponder that a minute. Well…maybe it is time to test his product loyalty…a little further.

Even if his psych profile, which showed him solidly on the male side of the spectrum, was flawed—something I am not conceding—there’s still no apparent sign of a feminine bone in his body. If Phase 2 really is working, he will beg me to feminize him, tomorrow! That’s a win-win, if I ever heard of one.

Now, if he doesn’t volunteer…well, then I will have to reevaluate a number of things.

I shake my head. Either way, I really need to push Rhonda to move forward with “Plan B.” She’s had plenty enough time to get onboard with it…. I send her a text to meet with me.

I tap my fingers on the desk in frustration, then email Greta back. Then I go to see Ginny.

 

* * * * *
Rhonda
* * * * *
 

I sigh as I get a text from Lissa. It’s not like I haven’t expected it—she’s given me a week to think about the offer. And it’s a really good offer, on the surface. But I’m just not sure about…her….

I know I can’t avoid the issue, any longer and text her back that I will meet her at four. I look at the time on my phone…that gives me thirty minutes to drive across town and walk to her office. I drain my coffee, and hurry to my car.

I knock on her door, at precisely four, and enter without waiting.

She is sitting at her desk, looking through files—as usual. She looks up, as I enter, and gets straight to the point. “Hello, Ronni. Have you made up your mind?”

I sigh and nod. “It’s a great offer, Lissa. I’m sorry it took me so wrong to decide. You know that I want to go to college, next year, so I didn’t want to take the position from someone else that would be around longer.”

She nods. “That’s commendable. But let me worry about that. OK? So you accept?”

I bite my lip. I’m afraid that I might regret this. I nod. “Yes, as long as it’s not an issue, if I don’t make it my long term career goal.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “That’s fine. But I do require that, while you are my PA, you give me your absolute loyalty, first. WG comes second. You are to follow my instructions. Do we understand each other?”

I sigh. Here we go. I’m not sure the extra money—or the padding on my resume—will be worth it. I haven’t signed the contract, yet. So, I could still back out. But I know that would be career suicide.

“Yes, Lissa. I understand.” I take the contract she slides over to me…and sign it.

She takes it back and slips it in her top drawer. “I’ll take this to HR, in a bit. Now, I want you to go see Ginny. She has some specially-formulated products for you to start using. I have certain standards for my personal assistants. Use the products, as she instructs. I will know if you’re not. That would be a sign of disloyalty to me. You may go. I will see you here at eight, in the morning.”

I take a deep breath. “Yes, Lissa.”

I leave her office and walk over to see Ginny.

She smiles as I enter. “Hi, Ronni! I have the product that Lissa wants you to use. It’s pre-production—for a special new line. I’m surprised this is something you want to use, but it’s straightforward. Just use the shampoo and bodywash, daily, as you normally would. There is also some nail serum. Make sure you massage it into the cuticles on your fingers and toes, really well—twice a day, is best. That’s all there is to it…at least for my part. Joyce and Brea will have to take care of the rest.”

I nod. Not sure what to say—especially on that comment about her being surprised I would want to use this…

I take the bag with the things. “Thanks, Ginny. I’ll be seeing you around more, now, I guess. I’m a little nervous about being Lissa’s PA, though!”

She giggles. “Yes, it’ll be nice having you around more! And don’t worry about Lissa—just do as she says, and don’t argue with her, and you’ll be fine. She does expect your allegiance—as long as you give her your full loyalty, all will be great!”

---

"I still can’t believe the complete change in his demeanor—if I didn’t know better, I would think he was a girl…one that has a few unfortunate masculine mannerisms. A tomboy, in other words."

---

 

WunderGirl

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

---

 
 
~ Day 30 ~
 

---

 

* * * * *
Ginny
* * * * *
 

I’m waiting for Sam to come in, before he goes to see Dharma.

Greta’s going to keep Julia busy…so I can talk to him…alone.

I’m not really sure why Lissa wants me to do this…and in this particular manner…but she was clear that it’s important that I do. It seems Greta is on board with the whole thing, too…so….

He comes in and I smile at him. I still can’t believe the complete change in his demeaner—if I didn’t know better, I would think he was a girl…one that has a few unfortunate masculine mannerisms. A tomboy, in other words.

“Good morning, Sam! How did your first photo shoot go? I know Adam can be demanding, but just having his name on your resume—and that he asked to shoot you—is a deal maker! It will open doors that you can’t yet imagine.”

He shrugs and yawns. “It was OK, I guess. I didn’t really know what to expect. And…yeah, he was a hard-ass, at times. But I guess Momma and I seemed to do OK.” He pauses and shudders. “He just seemed to...want…. Oh, never mind!”

I do a double-take at him calling Julia, “Momma”—he has always called her “Mom,” before. Joyce and Dharma must really be working on him. I have to wonder what he was going to say about Adam, but I don’t press him.

He yawns widely, again.

I grin and wink. “I have a fresh pot of coffee. Would you like some?”

He shrugs and yawns, once more. “I’ve…never drunk it. I mean…sure?”

I giggle and pour him a cup. It’s piping hot and very strong, like I like it. I give it to him black, and with no sugar. “I don’t mess up my coffee with anything, so I don’t have anything to mess it up with! Sorry—but coffee was meant to be enjoyed, as is. It will take some getting used to—but do me a favor…get used to it, the right way!”

He takes a careful sip of the steaming brew and shudders. His face is comical, and I laugh, but he takes another sip—obviously resolute in not letting it beat him.

With that taken care of, I get down to business. “Sam, I’m not going to beat around the bush.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “Adam got Greta thinking about the fact that you’re modeling…as a WunderGirl. I know, you’re not a girl. And you know, you’re not a girl. But the thing is, that you’re modeling as a girl—and the clients don’t know that you’re not a girl. So….” I shrug. “We need to make sure that you can pass…as a girl…while modeling. Does that make sense?”

He thoughtfully blows on his coffee…and takes another sip, with a grimace. Then he gives me a perplexed look. Finally, he blurts out. “I guess…. But that’s stupid!”

I give him a stern look. “Your contract is not stupid, Samantha!”

He looks shocked.

“You need to get used to that.” I state it flatly, with a shrug. “It’s now officially your WunderGirl modeling name!” I let that sink in and continue. “Now, here’s the deal. You like the effects of your products. Is that right, Samantha?”

I reset my inner senses…and recalibrate them. After the last few days, it’s not hard. Sam now fully becomes a girl in my mind. That’s necessary, for me to be able to cope…with what I have to do. And somehow, I don’t really think it’s that far off the mark, to be honest.

She gives me a funny look…and then finally nods.

I smile brightly. “OK, you get those feelings from all the cosmetic and floral products that we provide you. I assume you want to continue having access to those special products?”

She’s starting to look scared.

And I hate Lissa for making me do this.

She bites her glossy, blood-red, lower lip…and nods timidly.

My heart breaks for her, but I push on. “So…. You know that Adam pointed out that you’re lacking in certain…assets. We have to make sure that you acquire those, for successful shoots, in the future. Specifically, you’re lacking in breast development…and certain…other…curves.”

I make sure she’s tracking where I’m going with this. She just takes a gulp of coffee. She’s so distracted that she doesn’t even grimace.

“Now—when you go to see Dharma and Joyce, in a bit, you’ll be fitted with silicone breast forms.” I shrug. “An expensive…and OK…temporary solution, but not something worthy of the products that you’re receiving. If you’re OK with just breast forms, then you’re not fully committed to WG—and we cannot commit to you receiving the special ingredients. The ones that you’re privy to, through our experimental products.”

I let that sink in. I feel like a cruel, heartless cad. Lissa makes this look so easy!

She pales.

I continue to pile it on. “So, I’m afraid that if you want to continue using the special cosmetics, and floral products, that you need to commit to actually developing those assets.”

She chokes on her coffee, and stutters. “Wh…wh…what do y…y…you mean? I can’t d…d…develop ‘assets’! School s…s…starts in a f…f…few weeks!”

I force myself to give her a “pitiful” look.

What she can’t know, is that the products she has been on—well…still is, for that matter—have phytogenic…umm, plant-based…ingredients that have had a complete anti-androgenic effect, on her. That is, they have fully suppressed her already late male puberty from starting. The products have also provided that “exhilarating” effect, that is tied to a pseudo-estrogen factor. It’s nothing that would be able to cause physical changes, but they’re certainly effective at increasing her feminine feelings.

What she also doesn’t know, is that we provided her with the detailed instructions on where to use products—and where not to—because some, like the body wash and the day cream, have strong depilatories, in them. Her hair growth is temporarily suppressed—and will, eventually, permanently completely cease, with continued use.

None of this is normally a factor, when used on genetic females. The depilatory effect has been irrelevant on her, since she hasn’t entered puberty, yet—and hasn’t started growing body hair, to begin with. But It should be interesting, to see, whether the product will now have a preventive effect, and, whether or not, she will now ever even begin to grow hair in those areas, at all.

After a brief pause, I shake my head. “Samantha, Samantha, Samantha—are you going to let a little thing, like what people think at school, get in the way of your happiness? You have Adam Ansel requesting you, by name! Do you know how many models would kill for that honor? You just need to commit yourself to that role, and I can make a few adjustments to your products. You will then simply start to…develop…the assets…the ones he’s looking for. It really is best, for your modeling career.”

I wait a beat, while I take a sip of my own coffee, then continue. “You’ll still need breast forms, in the short-term. But these products will accelerate your physical characteristics, like breast and curve development, while you work with Dharma, Joyce, Greta, and your Momma, on developing your other feminine mannerisms. You know, like speech and body movements. In short, you will become the ultimate WunderGirl.”

She’s about to throw up, I can tell. I eye the distance between us…I don’t want puke, all over me.

Satisfied, that I’m safe, I continue. I take a lesson from Lissa, and studiously ignore her obvious distress, as I relentlessly press on. “You can decline this opportunity, I suppose,” I shrug. “There is nothing in your contract that requires you to do it. It’s completely voluntary. But if decide to forgo it, you will have to surrender all of your products—and I will replace them with versions that don’t include the special ingredients. You will then use those, for the remainder of your contract. It’s completely up to you, Samantha!”

At that moment, I know I have her snared. It’s clearly evident, in those beautiful green eyes of hers. The draw of the products is stronger than I knew. It doesn’t really make sense…the minute addictive qualities are not sufficient—or shouldn’t be—to go through with something like this. I wonder if there’s some other underlying factor…like she has a true desire…to be a girl? I shrug. I can’t worry, either way…not right now, anyway.

So, I finish, with the coup de grâce. “You just need to make sure that your Momma signs off on the contract modification…if you choose to go through with it. There’s no need to involve your Daddy. If you can do that, I will just add a few ingredients to your products. They will ensure that your body develops, in accordance with what you need to be a true WunderGirl. It’s up to you, Sweetie. But I need to know your choice, right now.”

 

* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I take a sip of the steaming-hot coffee that she gives me…and shudder. It tastes like crap! But I don’t let that stop me. She gave me some—and it’s how she drinks it! So, I’ll man up, and master this! With all the other girly stuff, they’re pushing on me, this is at least something that I can control. Not that the girly stuff…is that big a deal…anymore. It’s just for a while longer…and it’s actually not so bad.

But then she destroys me with her pitch…the one that I see…as giving in…to becoming a girl! But then I stop to think about everything that has happened, over the last month—and the fact that I really love the feeling, I get from the products…. Basically, there’s no question! I will do…whatever it takes…to keep up the exhilarating feeling, that the products provide. I like the feeling that they provide. Even though, I know I can live without the feeling…I like how I have been feeling, lately. I’ve never felt so…alive…. Or free…! I’m not sure that’s just because of the products…but they certainly help!

Then, she pulls me back to reality. “You’ll still need breast forms, in the short-term. But these products will accelerate your physical characteristics, like breast and curve development, while you work with Dharma, Joyce, Greta, and your Momma, on developing your other feminine mannerisms. You know, like speech and body movements. In short, you will become the ultimate WunderGirl.”

I sigh. So, I have to decide…on whether to do this, or not. I guess it really is my choice. I could just finish out this whole thing that I’ve started, pretty much the way things are now. I’m sure they’ll still make me learn to act girly…for the photo shoots. But then I can just go back to being myself when it’s all over.

Something in me, wants to go through with this, though. I can’t really explain it. So, I have to get Momma on my side, and convince her to go along with it. Somehow, though, I think Momma is already on my side. I know she has her own motives, in this whole deal…but I know that she loves me.

And, as if on cue, Momma comes in.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Momma, Ginny has explained to me that she can give me a supplement, that will ensure that I…ummm…meet…Mr. Ansel’s…needs…. I…well…I think…I want to do it…. It…it’s best for our contract, I think. I…I…I don’t think that it would be good…to let Daddy know…. But you would have to sign off on it…if you agree?”

Momma smiles and sighs. “I was wondering what you would decide. Gretta already let me know that you would need to choose. Hon, are you sure? It would certainly be good for both of us, from a career perspective. But it’s entirely up to you! It’s a big commitment. I need to know that you really want to do this.”

I nod. “Yes, Momma. I can’t explain it…not really. I just know…that I want to….”

She gives me a big hug, and then kisses me on the cheek. “OK then, Hon. And, yes, I agree—this needs to be our little secret! Your Daddy does not need to know—or your brother…or your sister!”

Ginny gathers up my new products, and puts them in a bag. She also gives me more gum. I’ve been going through it very quickly, for some reason. I’m rarely without a piece in my mouth anymore, and I guess I must be using more, than I realize. Although…any gum is good…as long as I can chew something…it’s kind of become a habit.

Momma takes my bag of “goodies,” and I go to my next joint session, with Dharma and Joyce.

Over the course of the next couple of hours, I’m tortured with how to act, walk, and talk “like a girl.” Well, like a girl, that is, when I don’t need to be a “lady”—which is on a whole other level, of its own….

When the session is over, Momma pledges to reinforce the lessons—and promises to help get me whipped into shape, in record time.

But I’m still processing the new “secret,” that I learned about Momma, today. It’s all so overwhelming!

I take a deep breath, to settle my nerves.

Momma tells me that it’s all a part of growing up….

Lucky me! Where is Peter Pan, when you need him?

 

* * * * *
Dharma
* * * * *
 

Samantha comes in, after her meeting with Ginny.

Joyce and I are waiting for her—having received notification from Ginny, that she fully committed—and we both smile at the nervous…new girl. She may not realize it, yet…but that’s what she is! There’s just something about her. She pretends to fight it all…but she’s taking to it, far too easily.

“Hi, Samantha! Let’s get started! Congratulations! Today, you graduate to five-inch heels! But first….” I pull the expensive breast forms out of their bag. I had purchased them earlier today, along with several new C-cup bras. I hand one of the bras to Samantha. “Put this on…and I’ll help situate your breast forms. We won’t glue them on…although, that would have been my choice. I was vetoed on that.”

Greta overrode my choice to glue them on her. She’s going to develop, on her own. And we need to be able to easily measure her progress, so I guess I can understand it. It would have made things so much easier, though.

Samantha goes into the dressing room and then comes out with the bra on. I’m happy to see that she knew enough to accomplish that much. Like I said, she’s taking to this very easily.

I show her how to properly place the breast forms into the cups, then hand her the shoes, for her to practice in, today. “Put these on and walk your rounds. You know the drill.” I hand her the stilettos, and wink at Joyce. “We’ll meet you in the “Smokers’ Corner” in thirty minutes. I’ll be checking your step count…let me see where you are, right now…” I make note that she’s at 3,469 steps. “I want you to log at least three thousand more steps! Remember to maintain proper posture—and swing those arms and hips! My spies are watching!”

I grin as she straps on the heels, then wobbles off…. It’s clear, the height of the heels…and the weight of the “breasts,” are making her have to readjust her center of gravity. But she quickly adjusts. I smile. Too easy….

When she’s down the hall, I turn back to Joyce. “OK, Joyce. I need to take care of these clothes, then we can meet Julia outside, and wait on Samantha….” I smile and turn to my racks, then start sorting through some new arrivals.

Twenty minutes later, Joyce and I meet up with Julia, in the “Smokers’ Corner.”

“Hi, Dharma…Joyce!” Julia smiles. “How’s Sam doing? I’m worried that I’m putting too much pressure on my child—for my own benefit!”

Joyce shakes her head. “Nonsense, Julia! Samantha is doing great! She’s going to settle into her role—and become an awesome WunderGirl! She really is a natural…deep down. She just needs some help bringing it out.”

I nod…and pull out a cigarette. I light it and inhale deeply. I blow out my smoke and say, “Julia! Hold the line, Hon! Samantha—and you—are on the way to greatness! Samantha is coming around! She did volunteer for this, after all.” I hold out my pack of cigarettes to her and Joyce. They both take one, and I light them.

Julia is about to say something, after exhaling her smoke, when Samantha arrives, perfectly clicking her heels.

“Momma? You’re…smoking?” She has a look of disgust on her face.

Julia chokes on her smoke and sighs. “Yes, Love. As a model…we have to maintain our figures…. It’s…normal for us models to use nicotine…to help with that. Haven’t you noticed? Most everyone in M&M either smokes…or vapes. I just sort of fell back into it.”

Samantha shrugs. “I guess so…. But I don’t! And I don’t want to!”

Julia nods. “Understood. That’s up to you, Hon. The pressure will be on…for you to maintain your figure. You know that! But it’s up to you, how you do it. This, however, needs to stay our secret…like the one we discussed earlier…. OK?”

Samantha nods…still shocked. She seems to get the trust issue, though. I don’t know what they’re talking about, when referring to “earlier,” but she promises to keep the secret. I know that’s a good thing…Gary would go ballistic, if he knew that Julia was smoking, again. Or, at least that’s what Julia has said.

I take my last deep drag on my cigarette, and put it out, as I exhale. “OK, Samantha. Time to practice our vocabulary….”

 

* * * * *
Julia
* * * * *
 

I meet up with Joyce and Dharma in the “Smokers’ Corner.” When I had first learned of this area, I had considered it sorely outdated…. Now, I consider it a necessity. I had no plans to ever start smoking again, but the pressures of modeling have driven me back into the arms of nicotine…like for a large majority of models. I only hope I can keep Sam from starting!

When…she…comes mincing up to us in…her…heels, complete with a full upper figure, I can’t help but smile. I have decided to really start thinking of her as my daughter…it’s just easier. And she’s starting to make it very easy…as she takes on more and more feminine mannerisms. I shake my head in wonderment. She’s taking it on, almost too easily, to be honest.

On top of all of that, Dharma and Joyce are keeping her moving more and more toward girly-girlness at warp factor ten! Sam is putting up a good front of resistance, but…in reality, I think she…actually kind of likes it.

I sigh as I put out my second cigarette. If Gary knew I had started up, again, he would have a cow. If he knew that I signed that contract extension for Sam, today, he would have a herd of cows!

What he doesn’t know…for now…won’t hurt him, though!

 

* * * * *
Joyce
* * * * *
 

Julia, Dharma, and I are taking a quick smoke break…and just shooting the breeze between good friends.

Then…Samantha confidently struts up in her heels…and notices what we’re doing. It’s clear that she had no idea that Julia had taken up the “model’s curse.” Well, it’s not like Julia just started her habit—more like she just restarted it. She quit smoking a long time ago…and has simply taken it back it up. Just like so many in her chosen career.

I haven’t modeled in quite some time, but I’m still chasing that “perfect figure.” The one that every model “must” maintain, to remain…”relevant” and in demand. I still routinely have a “model’s lunch” of a candy bar, a sugary soda, and a cigarette. A quick sugar fix, caffeine, and nicotine—that’s what many a model survives on, all-too-often.

Julia garners Samantha’s promise of discretion. It seems they already have a different one, from earlier, but I have no idea what that is—not that it matters. But I have a good idea what that may be…based on Lissa’s email from a bit ago.

I shake my head and change mental gears. Dharma has moved the agenda to…“vocabulary.” Samantha doesn’t talk like a girl…. She needs to learn to use the words a girl would choose. But it goes beyond just that—she needs to use the proper tones and inflections, as well.

“OK, Samantha…lets get you talking…correctly.” I smile and pull out a steamy teenage romance novel—one that is on every teen girls’ “must-read” list. I hand the book to her, pull out another cigarette, and light it. “Read…. Out loud….” I sit back—to listen…and critique.

She sighs…and starts reading.

I interrupt her, right away. “Samantha, your voice is flat-lining. Show some emotion! A question rises, at the end. A sentence goes up and down, as you vocalize it. Animate your voice! Stop being so…boring! Do you hear me…or your Momma…being so…plain?”

She sighs, and gives me a shrug. She blushes as she starts again…and does…better. Much better, actually. She’s really giving an honest attempt. It makes me wonder how much of her…opposition…to this whole thing is just…show?

I settle back and close my eyes, as I concentrate on her inflections, tone, and cadence. I stop her a few more times…and give her some more pointers. By the end of an hour, she’s doing much better. So much so, I have her stop. We’ll pick it up again, in the next session.

“Wait! What happens to Lorenzo? We can’t stop here!” She pouts—and seems genuinely…engaged in the emotional story. No self-respecting boy would care.

I grin. “I’ll let you borrow the book, Samantha. You can finish it, on your own. But…only if you promise to read it out loud…and use your ‘animated’ voice. Record it on your phone. Play it back. You know, by now, what you should sound like…or read to your Momma…or sister.”

She faithfully promises.

Julia puts the book in her purse, with a knowing smile. She then leaves us to finish Samantha’s lessons, while she takes care of some other business that she needs to attend to.

With the reading out of the way, we move on to basic deportment. I grin as I take another book…a big tome…and have Samantha place it on her head, while she walks back and forth in her heels. Just like in the movies!

Then, I have her recite various poems, while she’s walking…. Of, course, I make her use her “animated” voice!

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

As predicted! He accepted! No, strike that…she accepted!

I shake my head at my own confusion on…her…gender.

I know that I can’t trust the fact that her psych profile clearly shows that she’s male. But she’s now totally committed to voluntarily being feminized—solely, to maintain the effects of the botanical ingredients. Effects that should not elicit anywhere near this amount of…commitment. The whole idea is that the effects are strong enough to prompt brand loyalty, without being so powerful that they would draw attention to themselves.

I grimace! It’s an enigma! Why is she so committed to wanting the “tingle?” Is it just the tingle, that she wants…. Or is it that she wants what goes with the tingle…being a girl? I shake my head. The profile results still help prove my scientific hypothesis, since there’s absolutely no indication that she’s transgendered, and she’s still going through with it, just for the sake of receiving the product!

Then, I stop kidding myself. I know that the likelihood of her accepting total feminization, for the minor addictive quality of the products, is not anywhere close to a statistically significant probability. No, it’s quite the opposite. Accepting the use of the makeup, maybe…. But…not to the level she is willing to go with this.

I slap my hand on my desk. This is so frustrating!

That damned test has to have been off! Apparent, or not…she has to be a lot further on the female side, than that infernal profile showed. I think it may one hundred eighty degrees off…she’s as far on the female side, as it showed her on the male side. It’s clear that she has no idea, though.

This completely messes with my results! I’ll have to exclude her from the findings…. Not only that. I’ll have to somehow hide her from the entire peer review. And I’ll have to adjust some things, to save this. So, as far as I’m concerned, Sam…is Samantha—a teenage girl. If anyone ever does find out…and presses me on it…then…well…she is transgender—and that’s why I agreed to let her in on the trial…for female products. But then…I decided to exclude her…and not report to save her…dignity. Yes! That will work! But…I need to replace her somehow, to satisfy…my contact….

Then there is also the problem that I know…at least Brea and Becky, are suspicious, and that’s a potential powder keg…just waiting to blow. I’ll have to keep an eye on them. They could throw an unexpected monkey wrench into my carefully laid plans. I’m confident that I can control Brea, with her mother’s “unfortunate” cancer, but Becky is a wildcard, right now. I’ll have to come up with something to get her under my thumb…like Brea.

At least, the others are blissfully ignorant—and totally complicit! Ginny fully did my bidding, in getting Samantha to commit! No questions asked! Fealty is so…rewarding! I grin.

I turn my attention back to my task and continue tweaking my model. After a successful run, I encrypt the results and prepare to send them to my secret contact on the board. Samantha aside, my plan for distribution is coming together, rather nicely! I submit the file and sit back, to think some more.

Now that I have Ronni bound to me…like Ginny…I need to get things in place, for the next stage of my plans. Ronni will be key—I just need to first test her loyalty. I’m fully confident that I made the right choice, with her. She won’t disappoint me. Not like, Sherry did…. No, she will show her fealty…I’m sure of it!

 

* * * * *
Gary
* * * * *
 

I pull off my shoes and sit in my favorite recliner. I just got home, and Julia and Sam are still out…at…“work.” Sure. It is work…for Julia. I don’t know what to call it, for Sam! “Crazy,”…at the very least! I know Sam is making good money…but he’s not a girl, dammit! He needs to be doing manly things…not pretending to be some Twinkie to scam some money out of my wife’s company. It makes me sick to think about it…so I stop….

I turn to my day. As far as it went…it was great! I sold a Z4 to some photographer…for his son. I don’t know who this Adam Ansel is, but he must be pretty good…to be able to afford a car like that…for his teenage son. I didn’t really see much of the kid—just a brief glimpse, as he drove it off the lot. I was more engaged with Adam, since he was paying the substantial price tag. He didn’t even try to negotiate—he just paid the sticker price, without argument.

I take a deep breath…and sigh. I’m trying to be a good Dad to my sons, too. Chad gets it! Sam…not at all…. First he flat out refused to play ball with the job at the sawmill. It would have been good for him…but Julia helped him sabotage that opportunity.

I shudder, as I think about what’s going on with him. He and Julia seem to be getting along fine…like Julia gets along with Gemma. I subconsciously clinch my fist at the thought.

Sam and Gemma are also getting along…like sisters. And Chad is treating him exactly like he does Gemma…as a sister. I don’t know what’s going on! It’s like Sam really is turning into a girl!

I get up and get a beer. I start to go back to my recliner…and stop. I put the unopened beer back into the refrigerator, and then get back in the car. I quickly drive to the closet tobacco store and buy a box of good cigars. I deserve a bonus for selling that car today, after all. Then I drive back home…it’s still going to be a couple of hours, before anyone comes home….

I go out back and sit on the glider, with my beer…and light a cigar. It’s been years, since I smoked my last one. I can’t believe this crap has driven to me start…again…. But…like I said…I deserve a reward for my success today!

I shake my head and feel it turn a little red. I just can’t let Julia know!

 

* * * * *
Rhonda
* * * * *
 

Today was…as to be expected.

I’m just a glorified secretary and gopher, for Lissa. Sure, there’s more to it, than that…. It’s not just typing letters, or anything, like that. But it’s not rocket science, either. I’m not sure why she wanted me for it, so badly. Sure…I was good, as a recruiter…but I can’t be the only one. And she wants me to keep recruiting, on the side…. I heard that her old PA…Sherry, I think…just left one day. Supposedly, she just ran out the door, in tears. Ginny told me she had been “disloyal” to Lissa…. I shudder. I’m more convinced, than ever, that I signed a deal…with the Devil.

So, of course, I used the “special” products, today. There’s no sense in goading the Devil.

To be honest, though, I didn’t notice anything “special” about them—they seemed to be completely normal. Well…they were really nice products, if that’s what’s supposed to be “special” about them. But, other than that, they seemed totally…ordinary. I have no idea how Lissa is supposed to know whether or not I use them. Maybe, she’s just shitting me…and she can’t really tell. I sigh. There’s just no way that I can take that chance…. Even the slightest possibility that she could, is too much to risk.

The other thing that really bothers me, is that I can’t shake the feeling…that just being her PA…is the least of her…plans…for me, anyway. I shrug and slowly let out a deep breath, to calm my nerves. I’ll worry about it later. I just have to force myself to stop worrying about it…at least for right now! I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunity for that…later.

I pop a piece of the gum, that I found in Ginny’s bag, into my mouth…and serenely chew it, while I start making some dinner. It seems to calm my nerves, as I happily chomp on it, and I smile. But I don’t notice that my nipples get hard…and I absent-mindedly caress them, as I stir my spaghetti sauce.

---

I’m not sure how my life got so…confusing! I’m on my way to becoming a super-model—but as a girl! A WunderGirl!

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WunderGirl

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

---

 
 
~ Day 39 ~
 

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* * * * *
Sam
* * * * *
 

I groan, as I rub in my body lotion.

I’m nine days into my “body-enhancing” protocol, and my breast area is really sore…and sensitive! I had no idea what I was committing to.

I just feel so…different. It’s not that I feel…bad…. Just…different…. Well, to be honest, it almost feels…kind of…good…. It’s hard to explain.

Anyway…in addition to the…new feelings…now, I actually need the deodorant that I have been using, for a while now. Not just for the tingling effect, but because I’ll take “lilacs” over my now “natural” smell, any day! Ewwwww!

Momma privately sat me down…after we got home on the day that I consented to all of this…and reiterated that my agreement means that I’m now fully developing…as a girl. She reinforced, that I’ll grow breasts…and develop female curves. Like she has…and in the same way that Gemma is currently developing. She also pointed out, just so that I’m clear, that it means that I won’t develop like Daddy, or Chad, while on the products. She also agreed that…it’s a good thing for our contract… And she stressed that I can’t back out, anymore…now that the contract is signed.

I shake my head. Yes, I agreed to it all…and mostly understood it…at the time. Mostly…. But now, it’s starting to fully sink in…. I’m allowing myself to be turned into a girl…a girly-girl, at that. And I’m still not sure how I feel about it. The funny thing is…that I’m not…disgusted…or mad….

I sigh. Momma promised that she would work it out, with Daddy…when things start to become…visible. I guess that won’t be too much longer, now...based on what Ginny was saying. I won’t be able to hide my new “assets,” after a few more weeks…tops. Momma also said, she would talk to my school, since this all means…that I will be in full “development,” by the time I start back…this fall. That’s just a few weeks away….

I shudder. I’m not sure how my life got so…confusing! I’m on my way to becoming a super-model—but as a girl! A WunderGirl! I’m not a “girl.” I know consciously know that. I’ve never had any intention of being a girl. Yet, I completely volunteered for this…in order to continue having access to some stupid plant extracts. Because I like the feeling they give me. Does that make me an addict? Maybe…. I don’t really know…. I mean, I don’t think so. I know I don’t crave them. I just like them. And Ginny promised me that there are no illegal drugs, in the products—and I believe her. They’re made of all-natural plant extracts.

So, that just reinforces that I want—not need—this, deep down…right? Maybe…I’ve been wrong about myself. Does this mean, that, somehow, in the deepest depths of my heart, I really want to be a girl? I shake my head. It’s just so confusing. I sigh. I know…well…I think…I don’t want to be a girl, but then why else would I do this?

So far, “being” a girl hasn’t been…so bad…. Once you get used to all the…girly…stuff…it’s pretty…normal. I don’t even really notice the makeup, anymore. To be honest…I sort of feel…naked…without it! And I don’t hate the heels and dresses…anywhere nearly as much, as when I started. The dresses can even feel…really nice…especially with hose….

I sigh and finish my morning routine. Then put on my panties and my bra. I shake my head, as I do this new thing that they now have me doing…called “tucking.” To be honest, there’s not much down there, to “tuck.” Actually, there never has been. Even so, it’s still a little uncomfortable…but I’m getting more used to it…like everything else. But this…well…it’s still…really bizarre! It’s one of the things that forcefully reminds me that I’m not a girl…that I’m just pretending to be one! Although, it doesn’t feel as much like pretending…the more I do it.

After I get things situated down below, I insert the silicone breast forms, into my bra. At first, they—especially Dharma—wanted to glue them on. I shudder at the thought. But when Ginny explained that I was using the special products…to actually grow breasts, Dharma reluctantly relented. I mean, can you imagine having to put up with these things stuck to me, day in, and day out? The main thing that saved me was, that having them “removable, made it easier for Ginny to get her measurements. Otherwise, I would be screwed…er glued….

It doesn’t really matter—glued or not—the jiggly breast forms still feel utterly strange. They sway…and bob…every which way…like they have a mind of their own! And they completely throw me off my balance, with their weight! With them inserted, I’m whatever a “20-C” is—it gives me plenty of, what Dharma raves is, “cleavage.” I guess, they think that “size” is somewhere around where they suppose I will “grow”. Although, they did also say, with Momma’s genes, I could wind up a “D-cup”…or likely even more. Again…whatever that means….

Dharma tried to explain it all to me…. Something about the circumference of my breasts, minus the circumference of my chest…. Then she went into some sort of calculus…. Was there something about multiplying it by the gravity of the moon? I can’t remember…I zoned out! I hate math, so who cares!

I finish getting dressed…and ready for my daily “girly” lessons, with Joyce and Dharma.

I’ve almost forgotten how to be just plain “Sam.” I’m now expected by all at WG…to always be “Samantha.” It’s like Sam, no longer exists! The funny thing is…that really is bothering me less and less. Being Samantha isn’t that bad. Samantha has it a lot better than Sam ever did…for the most part.

The really hard part is, through all of this, Daddy still won’t talk to me. I miss him—I really do love him! But…I get that is weird for him. It’s weird for me, too! I fight the tears at the thought.

I shake my head—those seem to come really easily, anymore.

And then…he’s mad at Gemma and me for making a comment about how the house stinks…. I still can’t believe that Momma didn’t notice it. Anyway, that led to it coming out that he had been smoking cigars. Ewwwww! Of course…that led to it coming out the Momma had started back smoking cigarettes. Double Ewwwww! There was a big fight…and both Momma and Daddy just huffed that they would do what they want…. Now, the house smells like smoke all the time…even though they both only smoke outside. Triple Ewwwww! Chad is the only one that thinks it’s “cool.” It’s just gross!!!

 

* * * * *
Garry
* * * * *
 

I think I’m turning into an alcoholic!

I can’t talk to my “son,” anymore—whenever I see “him,” all I can do, is think about chugging another beer. I don’t know how to relate to “him.” I’ve always had a harder time with him, than Chad. Sam’s never been the manliest kid, on Earth. But he never seemed to be…a sissy. Not…until this whole farce began! That damned contract!

I’ve talked to Roger a few more times about it, and he’s adamant that I have no recourse! He just keeps saying that the contract is iron-clad—and reminding me that I signed it. He just keeps telling me to “man up,” and learn my lesson on contracts…for the future.

That’s not really funny, since I’m a car salesman. Contracts are my life! So, how did I mess up, so badly…and ruin Sam’s?

What I completely can’t fathom, is that Julia seems OK with the path he’s taking. No—it’s more than that! She seems to be encouraging it! She’s always correcting things that he doesn’t do right…as a girl. And right now, there aren’t a whole lot of things left…that he does, that are even remotely boy-like. He’s more of a girly-girl than Gemma. And I thought she was going to set a world record, in that department!

I groan. My son no longer looks like a fruit…he looks like my daughter. And a gorgeous one at that. And worse, he seems to be…OK with it. At times…I think he even likes…no, I’m pretty sure that he wants it!

And I just can’t process that!

Hence the beer! I sigh. Maybe I should move on to whiskey! It goes better with cigars, anyway! And now that Julia knows…there’s no reason not to enjoy them…and a good whiskey, alongside.

 

* * * * *
Gemma
* * * * *
 

I eke out the last bit of body wash from the bottle…and vigorously scrub my body with it. I guess there’s just not enough left, to give me a real tingle…no matter how hard I scrub. I’ve been rationing it, over the last couple of days, and I’ve been getting less and less tingly…with each use. Even the shampoo and conditioner don’t help, as much. So…I don’t know…maybe, that’s not the problem. But then…what is? It’s sooo frustrating!

Then, on top of that, I’m also down to my last few pieces of gum. I think Sam may be getting suspicious that something is not right…with the rate of…her usage. I mentally shrug…Sam’s a girl… There’s just no doubt about that…. Anyway, she’s always chewing some sort of gum…well…almost all the time. It’s just not always the good stuff. She doesn’t seem to care, as much…whether it’s that kind, or not. As long as she can chew…something…!

She doesn’t care! Not like I do! So…maybe, I can slip some generic stuff into her stash. I don’t think she would notice…or care! She’s fine with any old gum…as long as she can chew something…anything! I’ll have to try it! I need my gum!

I rinse the suds off, and sigh. How am I going to get my tingle, now?

 

* * * * *
Dharma
* * * * *
 

I watch Samantha cross the room…and smile.

She’s come a long way, in terms of her mannerisms, over these last couple of days. Not that there hasn’t been an army of women drilling proper deportment into her! She still has some work to do on her speech. And she’s still not nearly perfect, on her mannerisms. But she’s…somewhere between “tomboy” and “sophisticated lady.” I smile. At least, she’s no longer a “blundering boy, in a dress.” She can pass, now…just not at WunderGirl level, yet.

I’ve also noticed her subconsciously fondling her breasts—and wincing, when she bumps them.

I confirmed with Ginny, that she’s actually taking the supplements to physically develop…and on an accelerated path. It’s so exciting! And, it’s also the only reason that I didn’t insist on gluing her breast forms to her chest…. According to Ginny, with the fast-acting products she’s on, she should be showing visible results, within a couple of weeks—instead of months! Of course, it will still take time for her to fully develop….

I watch her expertly walk across the room, in her four-inch stilettos…furiously chewing on her gum. She’s fully in the habit of chewing it, now…and is rarely without a piece in her mouth. It’s any kind—not just the special stuff Joyce started her out on. It gives her a cute, girly look. I like the way it gives her a…real…look. I know that she was adamant about not wanting to smoke…or vape. But…maybe we could amp up her gum…. I know Ronni’s is.

I sigh and correct one of her movements, then smile, as I glance at her beautiful hair. It’s now well below her shoulders…and absolutely stunning. As are her eyes….

I sigh again…deeply. If I were only twenty years younger! I would so be going after her!

 

* * * * *
Greta
* * * * *
 

I shake my head and wonder how to get out of this one!

Adam Ansel’s son, Gerome, noticed Samantha at the shoot the other day—and wants to ask her out. As…on a date.

I groan. This is a no-win situation! But it’s clear that Sam will have to pony up. Adam is too valuable of a customer. And it’s too good an opportunity for Sam to pass up, to be a “go-to” model, for Adam. Not to mention, how good it is for M&M!

I call Julia into the office, I need her to help me figure out the logistics. She’s not going to like this either, I’m afraid. But it’s Sam’s father that I’m most worried about.

As expected, she’s not happy about it…and goes into a full rant. “Greta! I know Sam has to do everything to be a model WunderGirl…and she’s much better at that, than I ever expected…. Too good…maybe….” She shakes her head. “But dating boys, is not in his…her contract!”

I sigh and agree. I know what she means about her being “too” good. I shake my head. “No, you’re right. It’s not, Julia. But we can’t afford to alienate Adam. And this is as good for your career, as Samantha’s! And, like you said…she’s taking to this, quite well. How do we know she won’t…like it?”

She shakes her head and has a disgusted look on her face. “Whatever Sam was…actually thinking, or feeling, when…she…agreed to…this…whatever…is one thing. But I’m not about to pimp out my son…or daughter…for the good of my career! I was OK with going along with him…her…attaining the assets she needs, for modeling—but I’m not OK with pushing her…him into a relationship. If it still is my son, it would be forcing him into a gay relationship. If it’s my daughter…it’s still against her will! She’s not a whore, for hire! And…then…either way…if she does go ahead…and Adam—or his son ever find out….” She shakes her head and shudders.

I look at her and shrug. “Well, Lissa will be talking to her about it. I suppose if she throws a fit, there isn’t anything we can do. But if Lissa can convince her, then I expect you to support that decision. Are we clear? And why would Gerome find out? It’s just a date, for Chrissake!”

She harumphs…but doesn’t otherwise argue.

 

* * * * *
Becky
* * * * *
 

I go through another training session with Sam. I have to admit he’s doing really well as a model. He easily responds to my directions and photographer’s needs. It’s wonderful, how he effortlessly works with me, to get the best shots.

If he were actually a girl, he could go far, in the modeling business—not that he couldn’t still. I’ve just never gotten the impression that he wants to live out his life, as a girl. That’s what has me confused and concerned!

He looks every bit a girl—there’s simply no “boy” left, that’s visible to the naked eye!

Lissa is up to something—I just know it! And that something is certainly not good.

The thing is, I’m not so sure that Sam has as much of a problem with it, as I originally thought… Maybe I was wrong, on that account. He…she seems to be…at ease with his…her…plight. Oh, he puts up a front of not liking it, but I think she actually likes doing things…as a girl. She certainly has taken to it pretty easily. At this pace, she could even do commercials and potentially acting. I think she has the aptitude for it.

I may be confused about Sam…but I’m sure that I’m right about Lissa. She’s up to something. And I don’t think it’s any good….

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

I get Greta’s SOS, and have to smile. I love it, when I have to pull her bacon out of the fire…and she then owes me. Of course, she never asks, how I get people to do what she needs them to—especially, when they don’t want to do what she needs. She’s such a wuss!

Samantha comes in, after her session with Becky, and demurely sits in the chair across from my desk—after unthinkingly sweeping her skirt. She sits very upright, crosses her feet at the ankle, and folds her hands in her lap, with her knees to the side. She’s become such the model WunderGirl, in her actions.

I want to puke! But it is what I’ve been working towards—making a total boy want to act like a total girl…solely, to be able to keep using our products. So much so, that he would even “become” a girl. It’s the ultimate testimony to the power of the product. Or it would be…. I sigh.

The problem is, the more I get to know Sam, the less I’m confident that the profile test was right. While there’s still no absolute indication that she had a feminine bone in her body…before she started this…she just took to it way too easily. That infernal test…damn it to Hell!

Unfortunately, that uncertainty will always mar the scientific validity of the experiment…if I let it stand. Now, it seems we have another test for our little subject. One that should be very interesting! It won’t help me any, with my validity issues, but…it will settle some questions about Sam…or Samantha. Not that I really care about…her. But this should, at the very least, be amusing…to see how she reacts.

I smile sweetly at her…and get right to the point. “Samantha, you’re doing very well in the program. You’re responding well to the products—and learning your role as a WunderGirl. You’ve actually done so well, that Adam Ansel’s son wants to take you out…. You know…on a date.”

I can see her pale, even under the heavy makeup she’s wearing. She shakes her head and is obviously agitated. “I can’t go out on a date, with another boy! That’s crazy! What if he finds out? And what if he wants to kiss me…or…or…worse? No way!”

I nod my head, in seeming understanding…and shrug. “I understand. I will just tell Greta that you no longer wish to use the products, that she formulated for you. I mean, if you can’t be a good little WunderGirl…and do what’s best for the company—and your own career…well…then you don’t need those products.”

She gets even paler. She looks like she’s going to cry. “Please! No! But…I’m not a girl! I mean…. Anyway! This is just weird! Besides! I can’t imagine Momma or Daddy would let me, either!”

I smile and shrug, again—then I purse my lips. “You could certainly fool me about not being a girl! You’re voluntarily taking ‘special supplements,’ to develop as one! Would a boy do that?”

I pause and wonder if she even realizes that she now calls her parents “Momma” and “Daddy?” When she first started coming here, it was always “Mom” and “Dad.” Of course, that’s what all the girls here refer to them as, when they are around her. So, I’m sure it has just sunk into her subconscious.

She’s obviously thinking about my last question…and, it seems she has been thinking about it. She’s not giving me any indication that the question was surprising to her.

I decide to bring this to a close and wink. “Don’t worry, Samantha. Just make sure to not let him cross first base, and it will all be good. It’s just one date. And, I’m sure you’ll be the perfect, sweet little girl for your guy! I’ll even have Greta whip up some special concoctions, especially for you.”

I don’t tell her what those will be. I’ll let that be a surprise. I have to fight letting the giggle loose, that’s threatening to come out. It might be a little maniacal, if it did.

Gerome won’t be able to keep his eyes or hands off of her.

If she’s going to be a girl, then she’s going to have to learn to deal with boys, sooner or later. Afterall, that’s what we women have to do…deal with them…one way, or the other.

I send Greta an affirming message that she’ll play ball, after she leaves for her lessons with Brea. I send another to Ginny, and let her know to add the strong pheromones and aphrodisiacs to her perfume, body mist, and lotion. These are the same components, that I have developed…and that I had her add to Rhonda’s nicotine-laden gum. They are the very same ones that I intend to use in some special, “by referral only,” products. Sort of like “prescription” cosmetics.

The pheromones will make her irresistible, to Gerome…well, to any guy…. The aphrodisiacs, combined with her current level and mix of female hormones, will drive Samantha to the edge of desire. It will do her good to be a little horny, for the date—and in general. I also want her to be even more alluring to Gerome—and boys in general. She will learn another valuable lesson—the power of being a girl. Once she learns to control it, then wielding that power can be very addictive, in and of itself. I can then maybe use that addiction to my advantage.

I send her off, with an impish smile, and then send a message to Rhonda to get in here, pronto. I need to salvage my trial, any way I can. If I can’t use Samantha’s results—or, at least not fully—then I need something to replace them….

 

* * * * *
Rhonda
* * * * *
 

I get Lissa’s message and wince. I look at my hands and grimace at how pale they are becoming…along with the rest of my skin. My contrasting, long black nails still shock me.

When I had first noticed that my skin was…bleaching…it scared me shitless. On top of that, my hair started growing at a much faster rate, than normal…and black as a raven’s feathers. It’s coming in so black, that it has a blue shimmer to it…when the light hits it just right. And…my nails are growing fast, too—and they’re as black as the Ace of Spades. That all became noticeable a few days after I started using the “special” products, that Ginny gave me.

Of course, I confronted Ginny about it. She just shrugged and told me to talk to Lissa. She did say that what I was experiencing, was normal for those products. She said they were designed to achieve the ultimate “Gothic” look—pale skin, with black hair and nails. She also told me that there was makeup that goes with the line.

When I asked Lissa about it, she just laughed and said, “Yes. By committing to using the product, you’re proving your fealty to me.”

She then sent me to see Brea, who showed me how to use the makeup. She used some of the special long-lasting stuff, that I’ll only have to refresh on a weekly basis.

I look at my reflection in my phone’s screen and shake my head, at what looks back at me. A Goth girl, with deathly pale skin, framed by long raven hair, that was once auburn. Her thick, long, lashes outline her eyes—along with heavy, dark makeup, that accentuates them. Eyes, that once were grey, but that are now taking on a distinctive purple color. She has thin, swooped, black eyebrows, that are perfectly shaped, and expertly tapered, to flawless points. She has full, luscious dark-red lips. Lips that are so dark red, they may as well be black. And then I stare at the two gleaming hoops, piercing her lower lip…that give her the appearance of having fangs.

I remember the pain of those piercings. After Brea had given me the makeup “lesson,” I had to go see Joyce. She dyed my now shoulder-length hair, to match my new root color, then styled it. She filed my long nails to sharp point, then she painted them with a shiny black gel polish. Finally, she pierced my bottom lip—twice—and inserted the hoops. I thought I was going to faint, when she did that! I held it together, because I thought she was finished with me, after that torture.

But I was woefully mistaken…she followed it up with putting these drops in my eyes—that burned like the Devil! I thought my eyes were going to melt out of their sockets, it hurt so much! I came with a nanosecond of truly passing out!

She just shrugged. “I know that hurt, Hon…but these are a new version of our special color altering drops. They only have to be put in once…and the resulting color change will be permanent. You’ll have beautiful eyes—and they will be a lovely amethyst color. The full change will take about a week, or so.”

I just groaned, as the tears streamed down my face. I wanted to scream at her…in pain…and frustration!

She had given me a “choice.” I could have temporary blood-red eyes, that would last as long as I used the drops, or permanent purple ones. She did indicate that Lissa had mentioned that she preferred the purple ones. Some “choice!” So, of course, I “chose” the purple. The piercings were bad enough, but I knew I could remove the hoops, once this crap is all over…. But permanent “amethyst” eyes…? The tears of physical pain…turned to…tears of anguish…. I like my green eyes!

Then, once the floodgates finally closed, I had to go see Dharma…for my corset fitting. She also showed me what my new “Goth” wardrobe is to look like—and provided me with a sample to put on. I wound up, having to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe, that afternoon.

At least Lissa had approved of the new look—and gave me a substantial clothing bonus, to pay for everything. She said, since it was my new “uniform,” that she would subsidize the cost. “And, who knows…if this cosmetics line actually does take off, the company may make you the spokesperson for it!” She had just winked…and giggled.

I didn’t respond, at the time. I was in too much pain from the piercings, and the drops. And I could barely breathe, with the corset tightened, like it was. Not to mention…I looked like…a freak…. I still do!

I shake my head and focus back on the message. Lissa wants me to come to her office, to discuss her new…plan…for me.

I groan. What can she want me to do, now? I look back at my reflection. Isn’t…this…enough? I sigh and pop a piece of gum in my mouth. I seem to have gotten into a strange habit of wanting to chew the stuff…it seems to calm me, somehow. But my stash is getting low…I’ll have to ask Ginny about it.

I absent-mindedly caress my hardening nipples and get up to go to Lissa’s office. I had been taking a quick coffee break—but I guess that’s over. I sigh and hurry to her office.

When I arrive a few minutes later, and she lets me in on what she wants me to do, I nearly have a heart attack! She has lost her ever-loving mind! I knew that I was going to regret signing that contract….

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WunderGirl ends on something of a cliffhanger.... Soon to be followed by WunderBoy

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WunderGirl

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Joyce Melton.)
(Image Source: Photo 30023749 © Vladimir Nikulin - Dreamstime.com)

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~ Day 44 ~
 

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* * * * *
Samantha
* * * * *
 

I’m showing Gemma some makeup tricks with the more sophisticated makeup that Momma bought for me to use to teach her. Momma’s just started letting her use the basics and we’ve have been doing these special lessons in the mornings, before I get ready to go to work…and sometimes in the evenings, after work. I’m having a good time doing it, and as weird as it is, I’m bonding better with Gemma, doing this, than I ever bonded with Chad, doing…well…anything.

As I show her a particularly tricky blending effect with my eyeshadow, I can tell that there’s something on her mind. She’s kind of fidgety…and not really paying attention, at all, to what I’m showing her. Finally, I ask in exasperation, “OK, Gemma. What’s up with you? You’re all distracted. Maybe we should do this some other time? I really need to finish getting ready, anyway. Momma will be wanting to leave, soon…and what I’ve been trying to show you is way too sophisticated for work.”

She turns completely silent, then sighs…and then suddenly starts pleading with me. “Ummm…it’s just…. Well, promise you won’t tell Momma or Daddy?”

I start to shake my head but change my mind. She has me curious, now. “OK. I promise. What’s wrong?” I give her an encouraging nod.

I was a little worried about the promise, she wanted. I figured it was something…sensitive. Like she had been sneaking Momma’s makeup, or something. I had no real idea what to expect, but I’m completely floored when she finally does give me the explanation. “I may…have stolen your…old products…and…ummm…I may have been using them. Your gum, too.” She tears up. “I’ve gotten so used to that tingling…and now I’m out. I…I…I don’t want it to stop!” She fully starts crying and wails. “What do I do?”

I sit there quietly, totally stunned. I have no idea what to say. I can’t believe she did that! I should have held off on that promise!

Then she continues to beg. “Can you get me some more? Without Momma knowing? Pleeeeease!!!”

I sigh and chastise her. “Gemma! How could you do that?” I stop myself and think a minute…just to gather my thoughts. “I mean I know what that tingling’s like, and I know much you can get to…kind of…get hooked…on the feeling. But it’s just you wanting it…it’s not addictive, or anything…. At least, that’s what Vicki told me, at work. And I believe her. You just think you’re craving it.”

I shake my head. I really should tell Momma…but I promised. How was I supposed to know that she did something this foolish! I don’t really know what the stuff will do in an uncontrolled environment… I mean, I’m being closely monitored, and all. For all I know, she really is addicted…! I sigh. “I’ll see what I can find out. But I can’t make any promises. Now, you better let me finish getting ready…and think about how to do this. You really put us both in an awkward and very stupid situation!”

She looks crestfallen…and starts to say something…but just bites her lip, in shame. She shakes her head…and I can tell she’s trying not to cry. Before I can say anything else, she qhickly leaves me alone to finish up.

I sit there and ponder as I quickly finish my makeup and then put my hair into a high, tight ponytail. I hated chastising her like that. But it’s bad enough that I’m stuck in this whole convoluted situation. Now, she may be in a similar situation…. At least she’s not bound by any contracts….

I sigh, still not sure what to do! I shake my head and go down for breakfast.

 

* * * * *
Melissa
* * * * *
 

I look at Samantha, as she demurely…but nervously…sits across from me. She came in asking for a private meeting…and implored me not to say anything to Julia, about whatever it is that she wants to talk to me about.

I can’t say that I’m not intrigued to learn what this about, so I promised. But…well…no one ever accused me of keeping my promises. That’s only a given, if they serve my purpose…. Now, threats…disguised as promises…those I’ll always keep.

Anyway, when she tells me what her sister has done, I nearly laugh. I literally have to bite my tongue. But I can’t keep a knowing grin off my face. The dumb little twit has seemingly fully sensitized herself. And is now looking for more “tingle.” Finally, I can’t stop myself from laughing. She thinks she’s addicted! This is so…delicious!

I settle myself down and tap a fingernail on my desk…I need to think this through. We don’t have any actual data on her—I just know that she’s thirteen. We’ve never had anyone that young, in the trial…and it would have been nice to have her base values. But I can live without those, given the amount of data that we do have…on other subjects. In a way, this could serve as a study…of the actual distribution…into the uncontrolled environment. Of course, I still have control over what she will be getting…but this could still prove…useful.

Finally, I look back at Samantha and shrug. “Well, she has herself in quite the pickle, doesn’t she? But tell me again…we’re not telling your Momma…why?”

She shrugs and blushes. “I promised. At least, until I could ask you…what her options are. She’s not really addicted…right?”

“Well, the first option is to not say anything…and just let her suffer, until she gets over it.” I smile, a little impishly. “No, there’s no physical addiction, so it wouldn’t harm her, in any way.” I shrug. “It would be a good lesson, maybe—but she would likely still try and get her hands on more product. The second option is to let your Momma know…and still withhold product from her. And let your Momma worry about controlling her access. That’s probably the ‘sensible’ thing to do.”

Samantha doesn’t seem convinced, by the look on her face…which is fine by me…so I forge on. “Then… I suppose, we could give her what she wants. The question is, do you still want to keep your Momma in the dark?” It should be interesting to see what she chooses…and if I can use that to my advantage.

She mulls it over for a minute, and shrugs. “You said there’s no harm, right? Are you sure? I mean, I know I’m using the stuff…but you all are monitoring me…and pulling blood, and stuff.”

I smile. This could turn out to be very useful, if I play it right. I shake my head and explain. “We only do that for documentation purposes—not because there’s a danger.”

She nods and muses. “I suppose…we could supply her with…whatever. I mean, eventually it’s going to come out…on the market, right? And…she can just buy what she needs, then? No one would have to know?”

I smirk. Bingo! I shrug. “What did you have in mind, exactly? Is she even using makeup, yet?”

She nods, and completely surprises me with her reply. “Momma has just started letting her. Just the basic stuff…like when I first started. Eyeliner, mascara, and some lip gloss. I’m teaching her how to actually use the full pallet, though.” It just goes to show how much of a girl, she really has become. How much of one she…is. What boy would do something like that with his sister?

“Well, if she’s not wearing it fulltime, it won’t do her much good, in terms of a meaningful ‘tingle.’” I slowly nod and ponder. “We can amp up some lip gloss, for her, but that won’t go far. I suppose we could fix up some special body care products for her, and she could use those…until you can convince your Momma to let her use a full pallet of makeup. Then, I can have Brea give your her some ‘free’ products, especially for Gemma. We do that on occasion, for employees’ kids. Of course, they would have the special ingredient in them, without you’re Momma knowing….”

I decide to get our little WunderGirl working on the marketing piece. Like I said, this could work out nicely, for me. “It will be up to you, to convince your Momma, though, to allow Gemma to use the products. But I will only supply enough amped up body care, for your sister, to last up to…say…four weeks. After that, if she’s not using a full pallet of makeup—and maybe some sort of augmented body mist—she’s going to be getting used to living without the ‘tingle.’ Fair enough?”

She nods, unsure of herself, but grins. “Thank you, Lissa. I’ll do what I can, to convince Momma.”

I send a note to Vicki to prepare the product. I also let her know that no one is to know about this, but Samantha.

Then I send Samantha on her way, as I think about how I can continue to use this whole thing, to my advantage. It has so much potential, I’m actually giddy!

 

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~ Day 47 ~
 

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* * * * *
Samantha
* * * * *
 

I nervously sit at my vanity and start my evening look. I pull the eyeliner pencil away from my eye and vehemently blow the air out of my lungs. I’m completely frustrated with this this whole situation…and have messed up…again! Forcing me to have to fix another small mistake. No one else would have noticed…but I knew it was there!

I’m not nervous about doing my makeup—I’m nervous about why I’m doing my makeup! And I keep messing up because of it. It’s like I’m doing it for the first time. Well…maybe it’s not that bad…but…bad enough!

After my discussion with Lissa, about Gerome Ansel, Greta went right ahead and called Adam Ansel! It was too late—thank goodness—to set up anything for last weekend. But that grace period is now over…and I have a date with him…tonight. I shudder.

He’s supposed to pick me up in an hour…for dinner and a movie. I suppose that’s normal for a first “date.” I’m choosing to not think of it as a “date,” though…. It’s just a…. Oh…who am I kidding? He thinks of it as a “date.” It doesn’t matter what I think of it as!

Of course, Daddy thinks of it that way, too. He had a coronary when he found out. I mean, I think he literally did—his face was as red as my lipstick. He completely blew up! It didn’t matter that I didn’t ask for any of it! Momma had to come to my rescue—although, I can tell she’s not a hundred percent behind this, either. Thankfully! I’m not even one percent behind it!

But just for fun…we ganged up on him again earlier. I needed something to distract myself from the whole thing…and somehow Momma picked up on…and played along. She winked at me, then poured it on thick about me behaving tonight—just to mess with his head. I don’t know how much it messed with his, but it all certainly is messing with mine. To be honest, the thought of the whole thing still makes me want to throw up! I have no desire to go out on a date with a hormone-laden boy, who will want…things.

I quickly stop thinking about that…and remember Daddy’s full reaction. I’m not sure what the full impetus was—maybe our messing with him—or maybe he’s finally coming to grips with me “being a girl”—which I’m sure, I’m…not. Well…I’m…pretty sure…. I mean…anyway, he gave me this blustering speech, with a crazy look in his eyes. “If you’re going to be a girl, then you have an eleven o’clock curfew! And I want to meet this boy that’s taking you out. We’ll need to have a ‘talk.’” Then he went on to say that this is only an exception—that I’m not allowed to really date…until I’m sixteen.

Momma just rolled her eyes and sent me up here to my room to get ready, while she talks to him. I was bawling and it took me ten minutes to get myself back under control. I don’t even know why I was crying, like that—I don’t want to go on the stupid “date,” so if this “talk” changes Gerome’s mind, then good!

What’s totally unfair is the eleven o’clock curfew! I used to have a midnight one…like just a few weeks ago…when I was just “Sam!” And Chad has had a one o’clock one, since he was sixteen…which I figured I would get, too.

I yank the eyeliner pencil from my eye before I mess up again…and silently scream out my frustration! I have noticed that I’m kind of moody lately. I don’t know why, though!

I try and relax my mind…as I just let my hands take over and…without thinking about it…just do the motions that have become ingrained in me, from the countless hours of practicing.

As my hands do their work, I let my mind wander. I think about the past week. I sigh. It was a strange mixture of what has become my new “normal” and what are new…“experiences.”

I got to model at an actual WG makeup photoshoot, which was pretty cool. Except, I’m still not sure how I feel about modeling girl’s makeup. I can’t deny that I…like wearing it, now. I feel totally naked without it…but…I know that’s just…weird! So, I know that I shouldn’t be proud of the fact…that I get to model it, either!

Then, Dharma and Joyce made me start Yoga and Pilates for flexibility, posture, and to strengthen my core. I’ve been sore all week! Dharma and Joyce are trying to convince me it will be worth it—and that it will get better. I can tell that I’m getting more flexible…I can actually place my hands flat on the floor, while standing flat-footed…with my knees straight. I could barely touch the floor, when we started. I just don’t know what all of that is supposed to mean….

And…speaking of sore…my breasts and nipples are better in terms of being…as sore. But…they’re like really…sensitive, now. Vicki told me that the hormone supplements in my products are some special ones that will somehow make me develop faster than normal—like with my hair and nail growth. But it still won’t happen overnight. I’m not sure what that means, but showering is a whole other sensation now. The water pulsing on my nipples and “breast area” seems to cause a similar “pulse” in my…groin area. I blush, as I think about how…nice…that feels! Sometimes…I don’t want to get out of the shower!

But the weirdest thing…. Vicki gave me new body glow, floral concentrate, and lotion after my “talk” with Lissa. Ever since then, I have these really strange feelings…kind of like the water in the shower…only stronger…when I see a cute guy. And boys keep staring at me. And don’t get me started about the dreams I’ve been having…about…boys….

It’s gross! Now, the ones about girls…is a horse of a different color! I look in the mirror and see that I’m beet-red! I shake my head…. I still can’t get the boys out of head my head, though…. Ewwwwww! That’s my story…!

I sigh and push those thoughts aside. I focus on how Vicki has told me that…besides my breasts…I’m also starting to show other development…namely, in my hips and thighs. She added that I’ll start putting on fat there…and acquiring nice shapely curves. She says that means that my clothes will start fitting…differently. Her exact words were that they will fit “better” and “like they’re intended,” which is “good for modeling.” Of course, she was talking about my girls’ clothes…. I know that should bother me. And, of course, I told everyone that it did…does. The thing is…I…well…I…like my girls’ clothes! I love how they feel…and…how…they make me…look…. But…that doesn’t make me…a girl! I’m sure of that! Well…pretty sure…. Well…I think…I’m a…boy. No…I’m sure I am! That’s my story…!

I take a deep breath…and change my focus. Even though I’m “developing,” I still don’t have any body…or facial…hair. My skin is as soft, smooth, and hair-free as a newborn baby’s. I’ve been meaning to ask Vicki about that. I still need to. It should bother me more…since…I’m a…boy…. A boy…needs to be…hairy. I shudder at the thought…. Ewwwww!

I pull myself out of my reverie, as I perfectly finish my mascara...having unconsciously completed everything else…without mistake. Picture-perfect…as I should be…. As I expect myself to be! I take a deep breath and spritz on my perfume, then go to my closet and pick out my heels…the ones that go with the wonderfully soft black cashmere sweater and tight pink skirt that Momma helped me pick out…so that I would look “nice”…for my “date.” The pencil skirt is really tight…to keep hands out…. I shudder at the thought. It brings back memories of my…dreams…. I blush.

I shake my head and sigh, as I step into the black, patent-leather, four-inch stiletto heels and then slip the straps over my ankles. It doesn’t even register as strange…anymore…that I’m not at all uncomfortable, in them. As a matter of fact, I love the way I feel in them…like in the gloriously soft and luxurious girls’ clothes, that I have on. I confidently walk down the stairs…in the manner that has indelibly been drilled into every fiber of my being, over the last few weeks. I now default to walking like I’m modeling…on a catwalk. It makes me feel…sexy. I blush at that thought…and quickly squash it. I’m a boy!

I’m halfway down the stairs, when Momma catches me…and steers me right back up the stairs.

She admonishes me with a frown on her face. “Honey! You can’t be downstairs when Gerome gets here! Your Daddy is going to have to have his ‘talk,’ with him. Besides! You need to make him wait…just a little! That’s simply how it works…with girls and dates! Now, I wasn’t able to get your father to budge on your new curfew. Gerome might get some wiggle-room, depending on when the movie ends, but that’s the best you’ll get. Daughters…for better or worse…are treated differently than sons.”

I sigh. “Momma, this is all just crazy! Can’t you just tell Gerome I’m sick? On my period? Something? I don’t want to go out with him! I never agreed to this!”

She giggles and retorts in a knowing tone. “My, Sam! You’ve learned a trick, or two, from the ladies at work! But that won’t get you out of a date, Hon. And no! You really need to go through with this. Do it for yourself—not for your career…or mine. You’re going to be living…and going to school…as a girl. So, you need to learn to deal with boys. Most girls start learning this much earlier than you. Gemma is already further along…in this fact of life…than you. There are…expected…norms….”

I deeply sigh…again. “But I only will be pretending to be a girl, until the trial is over. After that, I want to go back to being ‘normal..’” Well…that’s my story…! “And in the meantime, I can just tell everyone that I’m a lesbian!”

She shakes her head and says, “Even lesbians need to know how to deal with boys. You might like him, Hon. And…are you even sure what…‘normal’…is?”

I gag and spit. “Ewwww! Momma! And…yes… I’m sure! Well…I think…. Anyway! Momma!”

She giggles and says, “I didn’t mean it that way—I meant you might find a friend. He doesn’t have to be your boyfriend! And…if you need to talk….”

I pale as the doorbell rings…and cuts her off.

Momma warns, “Don’t come down until I call you. We’ll finish this talk…later!” She leaves me to go to the kitchen…where she can eavesdrop on the “talk” that will be going on downstairs.

 

* * * * *
Gerome
* * * * *
 

I get out of my car and nervously walk up to the door. I slowly reach out…and ring the bell…full of trepidation. I didn’t even know Dads made guys do this anymore! I mean, I know Dad twisted some arms at WunderGirl, to get me the date…with the Goddess…Samantha…. I couldn’t help but notice her on his shoot, that day...before I had to rush off to be on my own shoot. Sure, she was a little tomboyish, but Dad says, that he’s positive that will quickly be remedied. I guess he…made some “comments.”

I don’t really care…she’s beautiful! I mean…if she were more of a girly-girl…she would be perfect! Dad wouldn’t be asking for her, by name, though…if he didn’t think she would ultimately meet that bar…. Anyway, it took some convincing…and begging…but he finally agreed to pull some strings…and get me a date. I have no idea how she feels about it…but if she’ll just give me a fair shot….

After what seems like an eternity, the door opens and Mr. Brinkley is standing there, looking at me. My heart is pounding! I’ve never met him, but I did see him at the car dealership…the other day…when Dad went to get my new car…and I drove it off the lot…while they finished up the…boring business part of the deal…. I never got to actually meet him…thank him…. It’s such a sweet car! Almost as sweet as his daughter!

He looks…pissed? Confused? Something…. I can’t put my finger on it, but it just makes me that much more nervous. I guess he doesn’t like the fact that Dad twisted arms…. Or…maybe Dad shafted him on the price of the car? I’m screwed!

He finally grumbles, “You must be Gerome. Come on in.”

I quickly reply as I follow him inside, “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” Being polite can’t hurt, right?

He nods and stares at me.

I can’t help but squirm.

He shrugs. “So, I assume you’re happy with the car. We didn’t meet, the other day…so…tell me about yourself…and your intentions…with Sam…antha.”

I guess he’s not mad about the car! And, I’m pretty sure that he was about to call her…just “Sam.” I can’t help but wonder if that’s what she normally goes by? I know Dad hates nicknames. Maybe that’s why he’s hesitant to call her that?

I take deep breath and shrug. “Well, Sir…I absolutely love the car! Ummmm…I’m sixteen—going on seventeen. I’m getting into acting…you may have even seen some of my commercials? My latest aftershave one just started airing…” I swallow. “And my…intentions…for tonight…are just to take your daughter…to a nice dinner…and to a movie.”

He curtly nods and gives me a harsh stare…almost a glare. “Good on the car. On the other…you’re paying…?”

I almost laugh. That’s his concern? “Of course, Sir!” This whole thing is just weird! And he still seems…unsure of himself…maybe that’s not his real concern? If not…what is?

He barely nods, like he’s groping with where to go with the conversation, and states, “You’ll have…her home by eleven.”

I wince and then explain, “Well, Sir. The movie isn’t over until almost eleven-thirty. It’s almost three hours long. It would be a shame to miss the ending. Could I have her home by midnight?”

He gives me a long hard stare, suddenly looking kind of pissed again, and commands, “You bring her straight home, as soon as the movie is over. Do not go passed go and do not collect two hundred dollars. Understand?”

I blink. It’s a good thing I know how to play Monopoly—otherwise, I would have no idea what he’s talking about! I firmly nod. “Yes, Sir!”

I see Mrs. Brinkley come out of what I assume is the kitchen and go to the stairs. She calls up, “Samantha! Gerome is here!”

She then comes over and says, “Good evening, Gerome. It’s really nice to see you again. You two have fun tonight, OK? But not too much fun! I’ll know. Mothers always know!”

She winks at me, but she actually scares me more than he does!

At that moment, Samantha comes down the stairs looking like an angel! She has that distinctive walk that all models have and I’m already getting hard.

Thankfully, I’m able to control it, as she comes over and shyly stands there beside Julia.

“Wow! Samantha, you look great!” I grin. “Ready? We have reservations in thirty minutes, and I don’t want to have to speed to get there!”

I get the stink eye from Mr. Brinkley and I hurry to say, “I mean, I never speed. That’s my point!”

I grab her arm and lead her out to the car after her Mom gives her a kiss on the cheek. I can feel her Dad’s eyes burning into my back.

I open the car door for her. I’m not sure if that’s still a thing anymore, but this family seems to have old-fashioned expectations. I’m almost drunk with her perfume as she sits down in the seat and swivels her legs in. I close the door and shake my head to clear it. I’m as hard as I can ever remember being. She’s just so…sexy!

I rush over to my side to get in.

 

* * * * *
Julia
* * * * *
 

I hear that the “conversation” that Harry is having with Gerome is coming to an end. I don’t know if it’s because he still doesn’t really see Samantha as a girl—or if he’s just still not sure how to be that Dad, but he actually goes easy on him. Too easy! We’ll certainly have to work on that before Gemma’s ready to date!

I go to the stairs and let Samantha know it’s OK to come down, now…and then go over to give Gerome a subtle but very clear message to not mess with Samantha. He thinks that I can’t see that he’s getting hard, I’m sure—but he very clearly is.

I can tell from the veiled fear in his eyes that he got my message. So, I just smile sweetly at him. Let him chew on it. Samantha will learn the tricks, soon enough. I hate making her go out, to begin with…but it will be a good lesson for her. I doubt he will try anything with her…other than some “smooth moves”…and maybe a kiss…at the movie. It’s clear he picked out the longest one for that purpose. There’s no way he’s interested in that movie!

I smile as Samantha comes down and shyly sticks close to me. Gerome stumbles through being a gentleman, but I’ll give him credit for even trying. I sigh and give Samantha a kiss on the cheek…then watch them walk out to his car. I’m sure he can feel my eyes boring into his back, as I silently wish my son…no…daughter…a pleasant and uneventful date.

I’m happy to see that he opens the door for her…and that she gets in like she’s been taught. I know it wasn’t easy in that skirt and heels…especially with that car.

After he drives off, I look at Harry and explode. “What was that? Is that how you’re going to be with Gemma, too? We need to talk about giving ‘the talk,’ to a girl’s boyfriend. I hated it back when Daddy did it to mine, but I’m certainly thankful now!”

I stalk off…to the patio. I need to calm my nerves….

 

* * * * *
Samantha
* * * * *
 

I nervously sit in the car as Gerome drives us to the restaurant.

“I made reservations at Livingston’s.” He glances over at me. “I hope that’s OK. We eat there a lot and they have really good food, if you’ve never been.”

I shake my head. Livingston’s is way fancier than we ever go out to. “I’m sure it will be great, Gerome. You should know—I don’t know anything about dating. This is my first date. I’m actually surprised that my parents even agreed to it, but I know your Dad has sway and twisted some arms. I’m just not sure how I feel about that! No…I take that back…. I’m very sure how I feel about that!”

I figure maybe letting him know that I’m not comfortable will help set some boundaries.

He sighs. “I get it, Samantha. Or should I call you ‘Sam?’ It seems that’s what your Dad was about to call you….”

I just shrug and shake my head. “Either is fine. Your Daddy certainly prefers ‘Samantha.’ And I guess it’s what he wants that matters…right?”

He nervously laughs. “Yeah. He has a thing about shortening names. Anyway, Samantha, you don’t need to worry about the date. I get that I only got it because of my Dad—but I’m going to show you a good time. And hopefully convince you to want to go out with me. again!”

Fat chance of that! I fight to keep the grimace off of my face that wants to go along with the thought.

“We’ll see, Gerome.” I shrug. “I’m honestly not sure that I want to start dating, myself. Nothing against you—well, at least not yet…since I don’t really know you. Other than you don’t mind abusing your Dad’s power.” I take a deep breath. “And my schedule’s already pretty full…with all of this modeling stuff.”

He puts his hand on my knee and I fight hard not to jerk it away. “Just give me a chance, OK? I’m not a bad guy, Samantha—and I really do like you!” He gives me a nervous smile.

I look at him and shake my head. “How can you know that, Gerome? You don’t know me…any more than I know you.” I look down as he squirms in his seat…and nearly choke. O!M!G! He’s got a raging hard-on!

He smiles and I blush—he doesn’t need to know me to “like” me…in that way. I’ve never had the proper hormones to get that kind of feeling…or have that kind of reaction. But those funny feelings that I have been having…especially in my dreams…suddenly get stronger. I choke. I shouldn’t feel this away about other boys! I mean—if that’s what I am feeling. Whatever it is…it leaves me totally confused!

He suddenly gets all…fidgety as my feelings strengthen. He quickly hits the button to lower his window…and sticks his head out.

Thankfully, we’re almost to the restaurant. When we arrive a few minutes later, he pulls up to the valet, who opens the door for me and helps me out.

The valet then drives off to park the car, while we go into the restaurant. Gerome steps up and lets the Maître D know we have arrived for our reservation. He leads us to our table…and pulls out the chair for me! I’m momentarily at a loss as to what I’m supposed to do…but after a brief pause, I gather my wits and sweep my skirt to take my seat. He pushes my chair in and waits for Gerome to take his seat, before saying that Josephine will be our server.

I shake my head in marvel. “I’ve never had anyone do that before. It was…weird…! But kind of nice, too.”

I know there are a lot of women out there—from what I’ve heard—that don’t want to be treated this way. But I think I could get used to it!

Josephine comes right over to bring us our water and menus, and to take our drink orders. When she’s gone to get our drinks, I open the menu and take a sip of my water. I nearly choke when I see the prices!

Adam just says, “Order whatever you want, Samantha. Of course, I’m paying—and, yes, Dad’s the one actually footing the bill… I couldn’t afford this on my own—so, don’t get too used to it! At least until my movie contract goes through and I start making millions!” He guffaws.

I smile politely and look back at the menu. I really want to get a big steak and baked potato, but this is not that kind of restaurant—and Dharma would have a cow if I did anyway. She’s been harping on me to eat small meals and watch my figure. Especially since I’m adamant that I won’t start smoking to maintain my figure. I still can’t believe she’s pushing me to start!

Gerome prods, “See anything that looks good?”

I sigh and shrug. “Well, I really would like a steak, but….”

He smiles and points. “Then you should get the filet mignon! It’s to die for!”

I find it on the menu ….where he’s pointing…and actually do choke, this time. Fifty dollars! And with no sides—they’re extra! And like ten dollars, a piece…for the cheap ones!

I shake my head and start to say that I’ll just get a small salad, when Josephine comes back with our tea. She asks, “Would you like to order…or do you still need some time?”

Gerome just says, “Two filets, please. Samantha, how do you like yours? I’m a medium-rare sort of guy.”

I smile wanly at Josephine…and ask…more than state, “Rare-ish?”

She smiles and nods.

We tell her our sides—no, I don’t get the baked potato! I order the seasonal vegetables and a salad with vinaigrette on the side!

The meal is wonderful, and Gerome turns out to be kind of fun. Under other circumstances—like me being the “real” Samantha—I think we could be good friends. Except…then we wouldn’t be here in the first place. We never would have met…and he wouldn’t have been interested in me, even if we somehow had.

Gerome pays the substantial bill…after we have dessert…and we go outside, just as the valet brings his car around. Gerome opens the door for me, and then he goes around to give the valet his tip.

He gets in and looks like he’s contemplating opening all of the windows. I certainly hope he doesn’t! I mean it’s warm enough…but it would make a mess out of my hair! He seems to decide against it and shakes his head, then he takes off and drives us to the movie theater. He takes us to the fancy new one…with the reclining and rocking chairs…that will turn into little “love seats.” Our reserved seats are toward the back and he quickly raises the arm between us.

The movie is a long romance movie—a chick flick and I highly doubt that he’s interested in the movie, at all. I guess I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt that he thinks that I would be into it…and he didn’t just go for the longest one available.

Of course, I’m not really interested in it…any more than he probably is. That’s why it surprises me when I actually get into the plot…and start crying at some of the more emotional scenes. These would normally have never elicited that sort of reaction from me in the past.

And they don’t from Gerome. He’s reacting like I would have expected of myself. What it does elicit from him…is him putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me towards him, as I sniffle and carefully blot my eyes with a tissue from my purse.

I know that this mascara is not waterproof, and I don’t want to look like a racoon, when we leave.

I’m caught off-guard by his move…and initially don’t resist…but purely out of surprise. But then he breathes in deeply…and suddenly becomes aroused. He starts nibbling on my ear and neck—and pawing at my breasts.

I gasp. We still have two hours left in the movie! I need to shut this down, right now!

I hiss at him. “Gerome! What are you doing?”

He just sort of purrs. “You smell so good! I’ll be good. Just one kiss?”

I struggle to push him back, without making a scene. The problem is, his musky scent is making me have my own funny feelings. My nipples are getting hard under my breast forms…and I feel really hot, all of a sudden.

It’s not like I suddenly have this desire to be with a boy…or Gerome, per se. It’s more like I have this desire to be with…someone. Anyone!

Gerome leans in to kiss me and I start to push him away…to resist his efforts…. But he evades my efforts and softly brushes my lips with his.

I gasp and…sort of melt. I know it’s wrong…to kiss another boy! I know I should be freaked out! I make another half-hearted attempt to push him away.

He just pulls me in harder…and presses his lips for firmly onto mine.

I moan…and find myself opening my lips…to his probing tongue. I wrap my hands behind his neck and pull his head closer to mine…and fully welcome that tongue in.

The next thing I know, the movie is over and the credits are playing. People are getting up to leave the theater. I blink. I don’t remember a thing about the plot. It’s all just a blurred memory of our dancing tongues, my pitter-pattering heart, and my gooey insides.

On the way out, I break myself away from him…and go into the girl’s room. I need to clear my head! I just kissed a boy! For…hours…! What the Hell? That’s just…gross! What’s worse…is…that I liked it! My insides melt again, just thinking about it! How can this be? This is a disaster! I shake my head hard…trying to rattle it back into reality. Or…what should be reality!

I sigh and look in the mirror. Another girls come in with her face similarly smeared…her lipstick a mess…the same as mine. My mascara has smeared a little from my tears, but not too terribly. But my lips…. I shudder at the feelings the smeared lipstick invokes…when I think about what caused the…mess.

More girls come in, with similarly smeared makeup. Most of them don’t have the mixture of confusion, lust, and self-loathing disgust on them, on their faces, as I do. One girl…a couple of years older than me… seems to notice the confused look in my eyes…and my shaking hands…as I struggle to fix my mascara and lipstick. She smiles and asks, “First date? Don’t worry, Hon. It gets better…you’ll learn to control him.”

I shake my head and fight the tears that want to flood out.

On her way out , she adds, “Don’t let him see that he has you confused! That’ll just give him the idea that he has you where he wants you…and can manipulate you to do his bidding. Stay strong, girl!” And then she’s gone.

I sigh and pull myself together…as best I can…and go back out into the hallway.

Gerome is waiting for me, right outside the restroom. His lips are still smeared with my lipstick, but he doesn’t seem to care. We start walking to the exit…and he wants to hold my hand on the way to the car.

I don’t fight it. I’m still too confused…to put up much resistance. So, I let him…but I do keep a safe distance between us. It’s just enough to keep my head clear.

He has a goofy grin on face…almost clown-like with my red lipstick smeared all over his mouth. He keeps trying to pull me closer to him, but I keep my distance. He finally gives up when we get to the car. He opens my car door with a sigh.

I sit and swivel my legs in…happy to be in the car…until he kisses me when I’m captured in the seat. I welcome his tongue back into my mouth and moan. I finally push him away after a minute—not because I want to stop kissing…but precisely because I don’t.

I’m still completely confused. My heart is pounding…and my nipples are hard as rocks under my breast forms. Not a comfortable feeling, let me tell you! But I know I have to get home! And I have to get my head clear of these thoughts. I groan. My nipples are so hard, they feel like they’re going to pop! The pain knocks a little sense into me.

I gasp. “Gerome! I have to get home! My parents will kill me, if I’m late.”

To be honest, I don’t know if that’s a true statement…but it’s the best I have. It probably is right, though.

He sighs and slowly pulls himself away. He closes my door and goes around to the driver’s side and gets in. He starts the car, still with a goofy grin on his face, and wordlessly drives me home…like he’s in some sort of a stupor.

I don’t wait for him to get out…or open my door…when he pulls up to our house. I just quickly jump out…well…as quickly as I can in these clothes. And his little sports car doesn’t make it any easier. So, I quickly struggle out and slam the door. Then I hurry towards the house…before he can chase me.

He doesn’t even try to get out. But I guess my slamming the door wakes him from his trance. He calls out to me…just as I’m running up the steps. “Samantha! Can we go out again?”

I shake my head and run in the front door…and right into Momma’s arms. The weight of the evening hits me…and I collapse into a torrent of tears.

 

* * * * *
Gerome
* * * * *
 

I’ve been out on a lot of dates…with a lot of gorgeous girls. But Samantha has me bewitched! I can’t keep my eyes off her. And I can’t keep my urges under control. It gets worse every time I get a whiff of her heavenly scent…it’s like the aroma is turning me on. Literally!

I barely make it into the restaurant, without giving in to the desire…to just stop and kiss her…on the spot. At least, with the table between us, the overwhelming desire lessens. But it doesn’t completely go away. It’s just more manageable.

I force myself to focus on trying to settle Samantha’s obvious dating concerns. And on showing her that I’m not a bad guy. I mean…I’m not! I’ve just never had…such overwhelming…erotic desires. She’s so hot…it hurts! Literally!

We make it through dinner…without incident. She’s just so cute…wanting a steak! But then I have to really fight myself from eating her for my second dessert…on the drive to the movie theater! After we finally get there…with me sticking my head out the window, the whole way…we go in and to the perfect little spot that I reserved for us…and we’re sitting there…together…so close…to one another. Her scent overwhelms me.

I can’t help myself.

I try.

I really do!

I mean, sure I had every intention…all along…of trying to sneak at least one kiss. And my ploy of bringing her to a long chick-flick is working—too well. She starts crying at the “emotional” scenes…as predicted…and I pull her into a hug “to comfort her”…as planned. But that’s when I get a deep breath of that heavenly perfume of hers…mixed with her angelic body aroma…

Like I said, at that point…I literally can’t help myself.

I start nibbling on her neck and ear. I rub her breasts and want her to rub my aching hard-on.

She hisses for me to stop.

I can’t though.

And I can tell she really wants me to keep on…deep down. And…finally…she just gives in.

After the first kiss…it’s all I can do to remember we’re in the movie theater. We kiss intensely…and passionately…until the movie is over.

I’ve never been this hard in my life…and it aches. I’m near panting…. I have to get her someplace after…the movie…and get some release!

On our way out, I’m considering where we should go.

That’s when she breaks free from me to go into the girl’s room. When she finally comes back out…after at least ten minutes…my head has cleared a little. She’s fixed her makeup and once again looks like an agnel. She reluctantly lets me take her hand…but keeps as far a distance from me…as she can, without breaking my hold.

I want to kiss her so badly! But…I also want…more…now that she’s once again with me. I get her into the car and steal another kiss.

I can tell she wants to keep on, but she pushes me back and makes it very clear that she has to get home.

I start to argue with her, but the fresh air clears my head…a little…and I remember her Mom’s warning. It all somehow cuts through the fog in my brain…that I do have to get her home.

I force myself to get into the driver’s seat and take off…as her perfume assaults me in the enclosed car, so I concentrate as much as I can on my driving—with the window down to keep my head clear of her intoxicating scent.

As soon as I pull into her driveway, she jumps out and runs into the house—without a word.

I try to get her to commit to another date, but she’s gone.

I would be pissed, but I really need to get somewhere…fast…and give myself some relief first! I’m about to die! Talk about blue balls!

* * * * *

~ The End of WunderGirl ~

To Be Continued in WunderBoy!

* * * * *

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WunderBoy is the continuation of WunderGirl

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WunderBoy

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau
All Rights Reserved.
(Cover image designed by Shauna Rousseau & Joyce Melton.)
(Image Sources: Androgynous Man & Football Field)

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~ Day 47 ~
 

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* * * * *
Gerome
* * * * *
 

I’ve been out on a lot of dates…with a lot of gorgeous girls. But Samantha has me bewitched! I can’t keep my eyes off her. And I can’t keep my urges under control. It gets worse every time I get a whiff of her heavenly scent…it’s like the aroma is turning me on. Literally!

I barely make it into the restaurant, without giving in to the desire…to just stop and kiss her…on the spot. At least, with the table between us, the overwhelming desire lessens. But it doesn’t completely go away. It’s just more manageable.

I force myself to focus on trying to settle Samantha’s obvious dating concerns. And on showing her that I’m not a bad guy. I mean…I’m not! I’ve just never had…such overwhelming…desires. She’s so hot…it hurts! Literally!

We make it through dinner…without incident. She’s just so cute…wanting a steak! But then I have to really fight myself from eating her for my second dessert… The drive to the movie theater is excruciating! After we finally get there…with me sticking my head out the window, the whole way…we go in. I lead her to the perfect little spot that I reserved for us…and we settle in. And there we are…sitting together…so close…to one another. Her scent overwhelms me. And I can’t help myself.

I try. I really do! I mean, sure, I had every intention…all along…of trying to sneak at least one kiss. And my ploy of bringing her to an ultra-long chick-flick is working…too well.

She starts crying at the “emotional” scenes…as predicted….

I pull her into a hug “to comfort her”…as planned. But that’s when I get a deep breath of that heavenly perfume of hers…mixed with her angelic body aroma….

Like I said, at that point…I literally can’t help myself. I start nibbling on her neck and ear. It’s all I can do to not go further!

She hisses for me to stop.

I can’t though. And I can tell she really wants me to keep on…deep down.

And…finally…she just gives in.

After the first kiss…it’s all I can do to remember we’re in the movie theater. We kiss intensely…and passionately…until the movie is over.

I want more! I want it so much…it actually hurts! I’m near panting…. I have to get her someplace after…the movie…and get some relief! We need to go all the way!

On our way out, I’m considering where we should go.

That’s when she breaks free from me to go into the girl’s room. She finally comes back out…after at least ten long minutes….

And my head has cleared a little.

She’s fixed her makeup and once again looks like an angel. She reluctantly lets me take her hand…but keeps as far from me…as she can…without breaking my hold. She has a mix of…desire…and disgust on her face.

I want to kiss her so badly! But…I also want…more…! It’s worse again…now that she’s back with me. I get her into the car and steal another kiss…and lean in to continue. I can tell she wants to keep on!

But she pushes me back…and makes it very clear that she has to get home.

I start to argue with her, but the fresh air helps clear my head…a little. It’s enough that I remember her mom’s warning. That dire memory somehow cuts through the fog in my brain…and it sinks in that I do have to get her home.

I force myself to get into the driver’s seat and take off…looking straight ahead. Her perfume once again fully assaults me in the enclosed car, so I concentrate as much as I can on my driving. I lower the window and drive with it down to keep my head clear of her intoxicating scent.

As soon as I pull into her driveway, she jumps out and runs into the house—without a word to me.

I yell after her to try and get her to commit to another date.

But she’s gone…the door firmly closing behind her.

I can almost feel her mother glaring at me through the solid wood.

I would be pissed…but I really need to get somewhere…fast! I need to give myself some relief…ASAP! I’m about to die! Talk about blue balls!

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~ Day 48 ~
 

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* * * * *
Samantha
* * * * *
 

I get up bleary-eyed. I didn’t sleep much at all, last night. And when I did…I had…unnerving dreams. Like, I had been fully transformed into a girl…as in having…a girl’s…“equipment.” I was out on a date with Gerome…and we went all the way…. And the most frightening thing is…I was really enjoying it.

When I woke up, after that dream, my heart was pounding. My nipples were like rocks…and I was actually panting! And now…on top of that…there’s also this suspicious looking…spot…on my sheets.

I sigh and go to my bathroom to take a shower. I debate on whether it should be a cold one! I’ve long gotten used to daily showers…since I started this whole ordeal…even on Sundays…. if I don’t shower and do my makeup…every day…I just don’t feel right. I mean, literally. It’s probably just in my head, but it’s not only a matter of looking forward to the tingle…. I seem to get all jittery and have a slight headache if I try and go without. And to be totally honest…anymore…I feel…well…kind of naked with no makeup on. Like…I’m…unfinished…or something.

I soak up the steam in the shower…having decided against the cold one…. Even so…I shiver when I accidentally brush my nipples with the scrubby…and wish it was from cold water…. The sensation causes last evening’s events to come crashing back to my mind.

I have no idea what got into me! I have no desire to be with another boy. Well…with any boy…. I mean… any boy. I shake my head in confusion. But what about my dreams then? What do those mean?

When I got home…and ran inside without a word to Gerome…I almost cried myself to sleep in Momma’s arms. That was after somehow convincing Daddy that Gerome didn’t hurt me…so he didn’t have to go hunt him down. He just threw his arms up in frustration…and went out back…on the patio…where he and Momma now always go…to smoke…. He just doesn’t get me anymore…but…then I don’t get myself!

After confirming that I wasn’t somehow physically hurt, Momma sent me to bed with a promise that we would talk through it all…today. I noticed her going out back, too…as I climbed the stairs to try and get some sleep. The last thing I heard, before closing my door, was Momma and Daddy arguing loudly…but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

I shake my head at the fact that they voluntarily let themselves get addicted to something as stupid as smoking. Then I remember her “promise….” That we would “talk….” I’m sure they were down there smoking and hashing out what we will “talk” about…. I have that to look forward to…when I go down this morning. Oh joy! Maybe I can just stay up here all day!

I sigh and pat myself dry. Then I moisturize…all over…and sit down to do my makeup. As bizarre as it sounds…doing that is…strangely therapeutic. I still have no actual desire to be a girl…or to wear makeup. But putting it on makes me feel better—and it’s fast becoming…well…just a part of me.

I shake my head. Who am I kidding? I love the feeling of the makeup…and how it makes me look. But that doesn’t mean that I want to wear it…. I think…. But…then why do I feel naked without it? It’s all so confusing!

I finish perfecting my face and get dressed. Then, on my way to the stairs, I peek in Gemma’s room, and see she’s up…sitting on her bed…and with a deeply reflective look on her face.

She startles when she notices me and motions for me to come in.

It looks like she was just getting ready to take a shower…and thinking hard about…something.

She puts on a hopeful face. “Do you think we can talk to Momma, today…about my makeup situation? I don’t want to run out of product…and not have any sort of backup!”

I shake my head. “I’m not making any promises, Gemma.” I sigh. “I had a really bad night, last night…and Momma and Daddy want to talk about it. We’ll have to see how that goes. You really shouldn’t have gotten yourself into this pickle! Like me…you’re just going to have to live with your choices…for better or worse.”

She hangs her head and bites her lower lip…obviously fighting tears.

I wordlessly hug her…but I have my own demons to fight. So, I leave her to take her shower and reluctantly go on downstairs…not looking forward to what is to come.

Chad is just getting up from table…having finished his breakfast…and he gives me a funny look. “How did the date go, Sis?”

I think he’s actually being sincere. I shudder and give him a glare. “Chad, I’m not your Sis! I mean…I’m…. Oh! Never mind.” I shake my head. “Anyway, it was a complete disaster!”

He gives me a concerned look and purses his lips. “Do I need to go beat this guy up? I mean, I know he goes to that fancy private school…so I don’t really know him…but I can certainly find him!”

I smile and suddenly feel a warmth spread through my body. For all the crap he’s given me, he does care! That’s so sweet! I shake my head and sigh. “No. That’s not it, Chad. He didn’t really do anything…wrong. I mean he didn’t…force…me to do anything…. I just did some things—wanted some things—that have me all confused. I mean I let him….”

Now he really looks concerned…and…repulsed.

It hits me what he’s probably thinking.

His eyebrows have climbed up his forehead and disappeared under his hair. His face is a little green.

I feel my face turn sour and show my disgust. “Ewww! No, Chad. He just kissed me! Nothing more!”

He shakes his head and gives me a stern warning. “Be careful, Sis! ‘Just’ kissing can lead to a lot of other things. I don’t want to see you hurt!” He gives me a brotherly hug…like I’ve seen him give Gemma…a thousand times. Then he turns to head out the door.

I just splutter behind him. “I love you, too! But I’m not your Sis!”

He keeps just keeps walking…but waves off my protest. And he simply laughs as my words ring hollow…even to myself.

Right then is when Momma comes in…with Daddy right behind her.

So…I “get” to spend my breakfast telling them the whole story…about the whole “date.” And I readily admit to how I’m all…confused…about so many things.

Daddy looks totally green…like he wants to throw up. Then he turns red. Then he turns green again.

Momma just shakes her head and puckers her lips. “So, do you like boys…in general? Or is it just…Gerome?”

I shake my head and shout in frustration. “Neither! I…I…I mean….” My voice falls to barely an audible whisper. “I…don’t know…anymore.” And I have to fight…really hard…not to tear up.

“How much longer is this trial supposed to go on?” Daddy looks at Momma in desperation. “When can Sam get out from under this? School’s going to start soon. I know you said that he had to take those…supplements…whatever they are. But maybe it’s not too late for him to…you know…go back to being a normal boy? To being my son!”

Momma shakes her head and sighs deeply. “First of all…I don’t know that I understand everything in his damned contract…it’s different than mine. I suppose I could ask Lissa…or Ginny. But that won’t get him out from under his modeling contract. We’re both past the thirty-day trial. So, I would assume it would be for at least a year…. Mine’s an open-ended contract…subject to renegotiation every five years. I just don’t know about Samantha’s…it’s probably the same…. It got all confusing with the modifications. I’m not a lawyer. Maybe we should talk to Roger? I know we should have done that before signing, but here we are.”

Daddy turns a deeper shade of green. He finally admits what we has been up to. “I have been talking to him! He just says we’re stuck with the contract. I’ll have to ask about a termination clause, though. I’m not sure what the stipulation was around that infernal thousand you…we…took up front. And then there’s all of those clothes that you let them talk you into ‘giving’ Sam. No matter what…I’m sure it won’t be cheap!”

Momma just glares at him…and I figure they will be “talking” again later…out back….

I sigh. “It doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “I can live with the modeling…and the makeup.” I shake my head and beg. “But Momma, just please don’t let them set me up on any more ‘dates.’ Please! I don’t know what came over me! It was embarrassing! And I don’t think I like the thoughts it’s causing me to have…about…boys…. I don’t even know who I am…anymore!” I fight the tears that want to start.

She hugs me tightly and has a hitch in her voice when she answers. “I’ll do what I can, Hon. You know I can’t control them, though. And it’s supposedly in your contract, as part of the marketing piece, that you’ll go to ‘business meetings.’ They can’t force you to date…but going to…dinner…? They can direct you to do that…and there’s not much difference in a boy’s mind….”

I just sigh and nod my head…ready to throw up at any minute. It’s the “business” part that I’m afraid of…in those “meetings!”

Daddy just swallows his bile and exclaims that he’s going to the back porch…. I notice he grabs his bottle of whiskey and a new box of cigars.

I look at the clock. It’s just 9:04…a.m.!

 

* * * * *
Gemma
* * * * *
 

I walk into the kitchen…just as it looks like a seriously intense conversation between Sis, Momma, and Daddy is just ending.

Momma is squeezing Sis…who has tears in her eyes.

Daddy looks…sick…and throws his hands up, as he gets up in a total huff, and leaves the room…to go out on the back porch. I can’t believe he’s taking a bottle of whiskey with him…and those stinky cigars! Ewwwww!

I look at Sis, just sitting there…with a confused look on her face. I’ve started thinking of her as my sister…it’s just easier that way. I know Chad thinks the same way. There simply isn’t anything “boy” left in her—despite her protests to the contrary.

I fix a bowl of cereal and sit down. I take a bite and slowly chew it…then decide to push my issue a little. I swallow my mouthful and look across the table. “Momma, Sis’s been teaching me all about makeup. I mean…you said that was alright. I think she’ll agree that I’m doing really well, right Sis?” I smile sweetly…hopefully.

She jerks in surprise when I say that.

But I push on. “So, can I please start wearing full makeup, Momma? Please?”

Momma looks at me, then looks hard at Sis. Finally, she sighs. “Samantha, do you agree that Gem has learned the lessons you’ve been teaching her?”

Samantha scowls and exclaims in a huff. “What is it with everyone calling me ‘she’ and ‘her’ and ‘Sis’ today? I’m not a girl!”

Momma slaps the table hard with the palm of her hand. “Enough! Samantha, you have to get used to the fact that as long as you’re under that contract…and taking those supplements…that you agreed to…that you are a girl! You look like one. You act like one. You walk like one. You talk like one. You sound like one. And…you want like one.”

I have no idea what she means by that, but Sis looks like she slapped her…not the table.

Tears start streaming down her cheeks…and she just sits there with a shocked and utterly miserable look on her face.

Momma goes over and hugs her again…then kisses her cheek. She finally shakes her head. “Look, Hon. I’ll go in with you to talk to Lissa in the morning. We can find out how soon the trial will be over…and then we can talk to Greta about the modeling contract. Maybe we can get you out from under it…but you need to think hard about whether that’s what you really want. I’m not so convinced it is, to be brutally honest.” She sits back and quietly waits.

Sis takes a shaky breath. Then she dabs her eyes with tissue. She nods and bites her lower lip before responding with a sniffle. “Thanks, Momma.” She shrugs. “I…I…I…simply don’t know…anymore. But finding out what…my options are…can’t hurt…right?”

Momma hugs her again, then nods. “Now, about your sister. I’m not a fan of letting a thirteen-year-old wear full makeup. But there are two…members of this family that are currently being paid to promote the use of said makeup. And since the girl’s fourteenth birthday is next week…I maybe could be persuaded…if I can be convinced, she’s up to doing it correctly…and is taking it seriously. So…how is she doing? I trust your judgment, Hon!”

My heart skips several beats! This may work out!

Samantha just numbly shrugs and smiles wanly. “She’s doing great. Although, it still seems weird for me to be teaching her…and that you trust my judgment on how she’s doing!”

“It’s what big sisters do!” Momma smiles and shrugs. “It’s odd that you asked about this, though, Gem. Greta just came to me on Friday…and offered me free samples…specifically for you. They’re thinking of a junior line for young teens…I think their calling it WunderTeen…or something. She said all I need to do is bring in a few pictures…so they can put together the proper palette. There’s also something about a teen body spray….”

She winks. “If you like them, I can get the usual discount on the product line…if and when it goes on the market. You would have to, of course, brag to all your friends about using it. And show it off to make them jealous! It seems you can thank your sister for making it all happen. I guess she’s talked you up at WG. Well…and taught you how to properly wear it.” She grins.

I hop up and give Momma a huge hug and thank her profusely. Then I hug Sis and whisper in her ear. “Thank you, Sis!”

After that, I hurry back upstairs to brag to my BFFs…that I’m going to get to use makeup! A full palette! All of the time!

Of course, I’ll leave out the part about the tingles—but I’m already looking forward to both using the makeup and having the tingles! It all certainly makes me want to use WunderGirl products. And use them exclusively…from now on! The fact that Momma and Sis work there doesn’t matter…it’s awesome stuff! Why wouldn’t I?

 

* * * * *
Julia
* * * * *
 

The whole conversation with Samantha is concerning. That date went horribly wrong…and could have gone even worse. I honestly wasn’t expecting her to kiss Gerome once…let alone lose control and have a full-blown make out session during the movie! I mean...what if Gerome had…. I shake my head and shudder.

It’s clear that Gary is bothered by it all, too. But I’m not so sure it’s for the same reasons as me. He still sees Samantha as his son…and is not thinking about from the proper perspective. The thing is…I don’t Samantha is even thinking that way. Like Gary…she’s still thinking like a boy on this whole thing…that kissing Gerome is…“gay.” Neither one is thinking about what would happen if Gerome had…tried something…. That Samantha has something that he would not be expecting…and finding that would be catastrophic. For all kinds of reasons.

But Samantha is clearly confused…her dreams are a testament to that. Do I need to get her to a shrink? I think she may actually be transgender…and not realize it. But what do I know? I don’t even know where to begin on that…. I’m not going to talk to Lissa about it. That’s for sure! I guess I’ll just wait…and see where things go…. I mean if Samantha goes back to being Samuel, then…what’s the point?

I understand her distress about the date…and the fear that she will be forced on more. I just don’t know how to stop it from happening. I just understand her contract well enough. We really need to talk to Roger about this whole thing. I mean I know we should have well before now…before we even signed. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty…. I finally hug my clearly distraught child….

Gary storms out to the patio…to smoke.

I want to follow him…for several reasons….

But Gem comes in and obviously wants to talk about something…and that something doesn’t take long to come out.

I should have known this was coming. It’s hard to believe my daughter…well…my other daughter is turning fourteen next week. That has been my family’s “coming of age” birthday…for starting to use makeup. Of course, she wants to go further than is “traditional” for the family “values.” I take a deep breath…I was planning on letting her start next week anyway…and she’s really been learning a lot from Samantha. Then…there’s the whole teen makeup line at WG…. I’m still not sure about that…something seems…off…but I’m probably just being paranoid…because of everything else.

So…I give in. I’ll probably end up regretting it…but…it’s hard to stop her from using cosmetics when Samantha is so fully into them…even though she’s nearly two years older.

Gem hurries upstairs to brag to her friends.

Samantha goes next door to Faith’s…those two have become nearly inseparable…especially since Mark is being an ass and not returning any of Samantha’s emails.

I take a deep breath…and go out the patio.

Gary is sitting in a recliner, smoking a cigar…and staring at the bottle of whisky in his hand.

“Don’t even think about it, Gary! You’ve been way too much, to begin with…but you’re not going to start drinking this early in the day.” I light a cigarette and blow out my smoke in exasperation.

“I’m…not…. I know…. I just don’t understand my son, anymore!” He puts the bottle down and puffs on his cigar.

I shrug. “I’m not convinced she is your son, anymore…if she ever was.” I shake my head. “We’re in over our heads here, Sweetie…in everything. But…you need to be more supportive…no matter how this goes down. I don’t have any intention of being married to a drunk. Do we understand each other?” I give him a serious look.

He sighs…and nods. “I have no intention of being a drunk…and I’ll…try….”

 

* * * * *
Gary
* * * * *
 

I sit in the kitchen and listen to my son talk about his “date” from last night. He’s sitting there…back straight as an arrow, with his legs crossed, wringing his hands folded in his lap…and perfectly made up. That alone still blows my mind…he looks like a perfect little lady. But when he starts talking about kissing that other boy…I nearly lose it…literally!

At least he admits that he’s confused. I know that it confuses the Hell out of me!

I finally can’t take it anymore…I grab my cigars…and my bottle of whisky…and go out to the patio. I sit down and light a cigar and puff on it…and stare at the bottle of whiskey. It’s just after nine in the morning…and I’m seriously contemplating pouring a large glass of whiskey. I think I need help…. Sam needs help…. We all need help….

Jules comes out and gives me shit. I can’t blame her…not really. But she’s as much to blame on this whole sordid mess, as anyone. So blaming me is so…hypocritical. I watch her smoke her cigarette in frustration.

I promise to try. “But Jules…I want my son back. We did this to him…both of us.” I don’t add that she’s the one that pushed hardest. I don’t have to.

She knows it.

 

* * * * *
Faith
* * * * *
 

I look up as Samantha comes into the kitchen. She let herself in…which is normal. I do the same at her house. Our mommas are best friends…and so are we. I can’t deny that since she’s…well…become a “she”…and there’s no doubt in my mind that she has…that I wouldn’t mind it being more than just “best friends.” But…that’s not something that I’m prepared to divulge…just yet. I know that some at school suspect it…but I’m still firmly in the closet.

“Hi, Sam! So…I take it from your text that the date went…unexpectedly….” I look around. Mumma’s upstairs…but I doubt Sam wants her to overhear. “Let’s go to my room and we can discuss it.” I take her hand and lead her to my room…and close the door. “So…dish. What happened?”

She takes a deep breath and looks like she may cry. “It was…terrible, Faith! He kissed me…and…I kissed him back! We…like…made out…the whole movie. I couldn’t stop myself!”

I feel…deflated. “So…you liked it?”

She shakes her head. “That’s just the thing! I was…like…disgusted with myself the whole time I was doing it! But…I couldn’t stop…he just sort of…turned me on…. If I could have…I think I would have even…gone further. I know he wanted to…he was rock-hard. I could tell. It was disgusting!”

I sigh. OK…so maybe not all is lost! “So…what happened?”

She takes a deep breath. “Other than kissing…nothing. After the movie…he wanted more…I could tell. I was afraid…. I was finally able to break through…and convince him that I needed to get home. I stormed off when he got me home…and have no intention of ever talking to him again! I’m afraid of…what might happen…if I do.”

I so want to hug her…console her…as more than her friend. But I just give her a tight hug and swallow my emotions. She smells so good! “It’s OK, Hon. It’ll be OK. It’s over! But…are you saying you’re into guys, now? There’s nothing wrong with that….”

She takes a shaky breath and sighs. Then she shakes her head on my shoulder…then speaks into it. “No! I mean…I don’t think so! Oh! I just…don’t know!”

I stroke her hair. “It’s OK, Hon! I’m here whenever you need to talk….” And I’m here for when you need more than talking….

She finally pushes back from my hug. “Thanks, Faith! You don’t know how much that means to me! I…I…I don’t know what I would do without you, right now! You really are my BFF!”

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Isn't everything working the way it's supposed to? Everyone is falling in love with Sam....

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WunderBoy

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau

All Rights Reserved.

(Cover image designed by Shauna Rousseau & Joyce Melton.)

(Image Sources: Androgynous Man & Football Field

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~ Day 49 ~

 

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* * * * *

Melissa

* * * * *

 

I sit and listen to Samantha prattle on about her “traumatizing” experience with Gerome. Of course, the fact that Gerome would react that way to her pheromones is no surprise. Any more than that she would “respond” with her special hormone mix…combined with the high dosage of aphrodisiacs. The whole package is designed to make her irresistibly alluring to boys…and her…well…“amorous.”

I would’ve been disappointed if it hadn’t been the case. She needs to learn what it means to be a girl, in today’s world. And what boys will do…or at least want to do. She’ll just have to learn to deal it…like it or not. Especially if she’s going to be a WunderGirl…and be of any use to me in my endeavors.

Julia stays quiet throughout his whole sob spiel.

Samantha actually weeps…so I know the hormones are affecting her. She finally finishes her sob story and shuts up.

“I don’t know Lissa.” Julia finally speaks up. “Maybe this has gone too far. How much is left on the trial? I don’t know about what we would have to do to fully satisfy the M&M part of the contract, but I wanted to start here. Maybe it’s time for Sam to go back to just being the boy he was…before all of this.”

I can tell she’s on the fence about that. But I think there’s more to it than just her…or Samantha’s…contract.

I give Julia a disappointed look. And then I look pointedly at Samantha and purse my lips. “So you want to quit? The trial is not over. You signed up for a minimum of a year…with the option of an extension…or until the trial is over, in the unlikely event it would end before the year is out. But I have gotten some good data from you….” I fake a sigh. “If I were to let you out of the trial, it would be up to legal to determine the full penalties for breaking the contract. Some are specified in the contract…others are more…flexible. You do understand that would mean no more special product. For you…or your sister.”

Julia looks confused. No surprise there.

I ignore her.

Samantha looks totally conflicted…. I can see the struggle in her eyes.

Finally, she answers. “I…I…I don’t want to quit the trial. I…like using the products…and the makeup….”

I smile.

Julia doesn’t look surprised at her admission.

Samantha looks at Julia in confused determination and whispers. “Please don’t tell Daddy! I’ll keep on…with the trial…and modeling. I…I…I want to.”

“We’ll get back to your sister in a minute.” Julia seems exasperated. “But as for you…if you do this…it will be long-term. Do you understand? The full year…at least. You will have to go to school…as Samantha. Greta will expect you to continue your development…both physically…and mentally. And meeting all M&M and WG expectations. She may even offer you an extension…if your contract is similar to mine…on that point. Are you sure? We’re not going to keep going back and forth on this. If you commit, it’s for the long haul. And I expect you to honor that…with everything that goes with it!”

I get the feeling that Julia is just testing her resolve…and not trying to really talk her out of it.

Samantha chews thoughtfully on her lower lip…and finally nods.

Then the whole thing with her sister comes out. Oops. My bad! OK…not really. I don’t care! But I can tell there will be further discussion when they get home.

Julia eventually agrees to have me continue to supply the products for her other daughter. She doesn’t have a clue what that actually means, since Samantha didn’t explain that part. And I’m not saying, either. Yes, I’ll continue to provide the products. For a price…yet to be determined. None of them know that part, for now.

I consider Samantha’s further trials as they leave. I decide I’m now going to have Ginny continue her special hormonal mix and maintain her high concentrations of aphrodisiacs and pheromones. I’m intrigued now to see how far we can push her…with long-term sustainment of the effects. I might be able to use that data for something in the future. Who knows?

I also consider what to do about the internal cosmetics she’s on. For now, her altered hair, eye, and nail colors are temporary. If she were to quit using the products, then everything would go back to normal. I do have an experimental product that I’m about ninety percent certain will make the changes permanent. At least it’s worked on mice…and…more or less…on a few early human guinea pigs.

I make a note to have Joyce use the setting hair rinse at Samantha’s next appointment. Red is such a lovely color on her. And those eyes are beautiful…so, I will have Ginny add the setting drops. I’ll have to think about the nails. I may want to change the color to test that some more. I also need to think about her lips and eyelids. Any of the extended wear makeup can theoretically be made permanent…if the setting products work…it should be interesting to see how it turns out.

All in a day’s work at R&D!

 

* * * * *

Greta

* * * * *

 

“I see. I’m sure he’s sorry, Adam. And, of course, I’m sure that Samantha will be glad to give him another chance. But…let’s maybe give her a couple of days to recover? We could shoot for Friday or Saturday? I will also have to talk to her parents. Jules tells me that Samantha’s father is against her dating…at all…until she’s sixteen.”

I’m on the phone with Adam. He called to apologize for Gerome’s behavior. He’s also promised his son will be nothing but a gentleman…moving forward. But it’s all completely unnecessary!

I don’t know exactly what happened on their date. Or why either Gerome or Adam feels like they need to apologize. But I’m sure Gerome was just being a teenage boy…out on a date with a beautiful teenage girl. Certain things are to be expected when teenage boys’ hormones rage…it’s just…natural! Something Samantha’s going to have to get used to...all girls do.

“That sounds great, Greta.” Adam sighs. “Just let me know. I’d also like to talk to you about getting Julia and Samantha back on another shoot….” He pauses briefly. “It’s in…ummm…three weeks. Armanio Juliette has a fashion show coming up and I’m his go-to photographer. He needs a couple of fresh, new faces…and I told him I have just the ticket. It would be a substantial payout for all involved. I mean…this is big-league stuff. I also think it could lead to some possibilities for some TV commercials…at least for Samantha…together with Gerome…if she plays her cards right. I know the shoot is after school has started, but it would only require missing a day and half…it’s Friday through Sunday. So…she would need to miss Thursday afternoon and all day, Friday.”

I gasp—this is huge news! I nod into the phone and smile. “I will talk with them. Please go ahead and get them signed up…and send me over the contract. It won’t be a problem to get them to sign, at all…I can assure you of that!”

We talk a couple more minutes, then I disconnect and purse my lips in thought. I’m both elated at the shoot and frustrated at my newest teen model. I’m not sure what Samantha’s hang up with Gerome is…but she better get over it. Pronto!

 

* * * * *

Ginny

* * * * *

 

I receive near simultaneous messages from Lissa and Greta.

Lissa wants me to maintain…and possibly even augment…the feminizing components of Samantha’s products. She suggests including some of the same components we’ve been giving Ronni. With what she’s outlining, the poor girl…like Ronni…is going to be awfully…well…needy…to put it mildly. Boys will be flocking to her…and chasing her everywhere. I have no idea what her sexuality is—but I hope she’s into boys. They’re certainly about to be into her! Maybe literally! I shake my head in wonder at her situation.

At any rate, it seems she may very well be into boys, since Greta told me that she’s going to be going out with Gerome…on another date. It’s in a couple of days and she wants me to do everything I can to make that go well…. Poor Samantha. It seems she’s being hooked up…for the good of the company. At least it’s with an up-and-coming actor. I hear he’s really moving up in that realm. And his Dad is already filthy rich. So…she could do a lot worse.

I continue to shake my head and make the prescribed tweaks to her products. She’s going to become quite the little sex bomb…if she stays on this formulation for any significant length of time. And it seems that Lissa plans on keeping her on it…for the foreseeable future…and maybe longer.

I finish reformulating the “love potion.” Then I get out the special eyedrops that I will have to administer myself. She will be one of the first humans to get them. I already know they’re safe…and I’m pretty confident they will actually work. So far, they have worked well in mice…and in the couple of humans they’ve been used on…well…after the first mishap…that we don’t talk about! It’s too soon to tell whether they will actually be permanent, but they are at the very least going to be very long-lasting.

Now…if we could only figure out how it works…it was just a fluke that we discovered the setting compound. We have no idea what makes them tick…my bet is on some sort of genetic-level change. But we don’t have the equipment to test that hypothesis. But the changes do seem to carry over to the next generation of mice…so that seems to support my theory.

Samantha comes in and I smile. I’m not totally sure about the ethics of giving her the spiced-up products. But she did volunteer for the trial and voluntarily sign up…and she did tell Lissa that she wants to continue. That it’s because she wants to continue having access to the products…is beside the point. She wants to continue using them…and no one is forcing her. It’s not like she was put in a corner. And she is going out on another date with Gerome…. I shrug. I guess it’s not unethical when you look at it that way. At least that’s what I’m going with!

“OK, Samantha. I’m fixing up some new products for you. Make sure that you get rid of your old ones. In other words…don’t let your sister get ahold of them this time!” I wink and giggle.

Lissa let me in on that little story…so that I can properly prepare the appropriate products for Gemma. She has a particular plan in mind…for her…and it will likely turn into a boon for our research. M&M will surely be onboard, too.

Samantha turns red in embarrassment at the ribbing.

I grin, then turn serious. “I need to put some drops in your eyes. Then you need to go see Joyce. By the time she’s through with you, I’ll have your new products sent over to Brea and you can pick them up there.”

She’s awfully quiet and seems sort of resigned to her fate…like she’s given up fighting who she is. It’s about time she accepts it.

“Come on!” I smile encouragingly. “Let me put these in—it will sting, though. I’m sorry about that!”

I put three drops in each eye…and know that it will be close to “molten lava” on her lava scale.

Her reaction confirms that it hurts…a lot. After a count of then, she just hops around and cusses…in a very un-lady-like manner. But she doesn’t ask what they’re for.

I don’t tell her that her green eyes are now almost certainly a permanent part of her. After a minute, I clear my throat. “I know that stung, Hon. But…on the bright side…you won’t have to use the daily drops, anymore. You might have slightly blurry vision for an hour or so. Don’t worry your sweet little head, though…it will clear right up. And after that…you should be no worse for the wear.”

 

* * * * *

Joyce

* * * * *

 

I’m taking a quick smoke break, when I get a message from Lissa. I get it at nearly the same time that Greta comes out to the Smoker’s Corner to join me. I shake my head. Smoking may be out of vogue…in mainstream society…but it certainly is still a staple in serious models’ diets. Nearly everyone here does it to keep their figure. Well…the older models…. The young ones seem to be more resistant to its allure…although…many of them will take up vaping, instead…. Not that it helps…they then later just start smoking…. The vaping just seems to lead them down the inevitable path….

I read Lissa’s message as Greta lights up. The content comes as quite the surprise to me. But I’m thrilled for Samantha! I put my phone down and smile.

Greta blows out her smoke, as she speaks. “Joyce, Adam just called me and wants Samantha to go out with Gerome again. It seems their last date had some…complications. I don’t have all the details, but I want all of us here to do…whatever we can…over the next couple of days and remedy the situation. We need to make sure that Samantha is ready for a more…enjoyable date. I am setting it up for Friday…or maybe Saturday. I still need to confer with Jules on that…so it’s still to be determined.”

I nod. I’m still getting used to everyone calling Julia “Jules.” But I like it.

Greta inhales deeply and continues talking while exhaling her smoke. “Samantha doesn’t know about the date, yet.” She shrugs. “If it’s enjoyable for both, it would be great…but our customer always comes first. Gerome is not our customer…but Adam is…so our curtesy extends to his son. And I don’t want Gerome to think he has to apologize for being a boy—or that his father has to call me to set up another date. If Gerome wants to go out with Samantha, then Samantha needs to go out with Gerome…and be happy to do it.” She puts out her cigarette and quickly lights another. “And just think of the publicity for WG!”

I nod and light another, myself. “Lissa just sent me something that falls right in line with that. Don’t worry, Greta. I’ll get with the girls and we’ll work on her. She just needs to loosen up…and start enjoying being a girl. She needs to stop pretending to fight it! Have you noticed? She has really taken to…most…of it quite well. This is basically the last hurdle to getting her over her own false blustering.”

“Yes.” She nods. “I do think she’s protesting too much. She may not be into boys…I don’t know. But from what Jules was saying…I don’t think that’s a given….”

We finish our extended break by putting out our cigarettes and quickly go back inside to get back to work.

I get ready for Samantha, since Greta let me know that she should be finishing up with Ginny right about now. She will be on her way right after that and I want things to go smoothly.

A few minutes later, Samantha finally comes in…and looks like she’s been crying…a lot! There are huge tear trails running down her cheeks.

“Oh, you poor doll!” I rush over to grab her shoulders and hold her tight. “What’s the matter? We need to fix your makeup! Oh, never mind! You’re going to see Brea after this, anyway. And I’m actually going to wash your hair this time…not just style it. But let’s at least wipe off that mess, first. OK?”

She doesn’t really say much…or react at all, for that matter. She just keeps switching between rapidly blinking her eyes…then holding the tightly shut for a few seconds…like they hurt. She also seems to be having trouble focusing…like everything is all blurry.

I sit her down at the sink and quickly wipe off her makeup with some disposable wipes. Then I wash her hair with the special shampoo that Ginny sent over to me. Before I can even get to use the cream rinse, she startles me.

She starts jumping around in the chair like mad! She just keeps muttering something about fire ants crawling in her scalp.

I guess it must sting a little. I shrug…I had no idea…. I wait the prescribed time and then condition her hair…ignoring her outburst…. I repeat the process…with the same results. Then I take her to my chair and give her a new wonderfully girly-girl style. There’s nothing ambiguous about this style. It screams “femininity.” And it will certainly help cement her in that mindset. And if I do say so, myself…it looks lovely on her…especially with her gorgeous red hair.

By the time I’m done, it looks like she’s having better luck focusing. Her lovely eyes are a little red from crying, but her irises are such a lovely bright shade of emerald green…and they go perfectly with her shiny, now permanently coppery-red hair. Well, permanent if the setting solution works as planned. We’ll know in a week…if her hair continues to grow red without using the temporary products, then it works.

“Oh, Hon!” I gush in genuine enthusiasm. “Your eyes and hair are lovely and go so well together. Isn’t it exciting that they’re both now your permanent color?”

What happens next, is something that I would never have anticipated. Not in a million years!

She slumps over in a dead faint! Poor Dear! She must be totally overwhelmed with excitement! The enthusiasm of her increased status as a WunderGirl must just be too much for the poor girl to process!

Yes, she’s going to make a very lovely young lady…and do the company proud!

 

* * * * *

Samantha

* * * * *

 

I think I just screwed up…big time!

How could I have just agreed to continue this whole thing? I mean, I could have gotten out of it! I had the bird in my hand…and I let it fly away…voluntarily. Or was it?

I shake my head. I do like the feeling from the products. Does that mean I’m “hooked?” Could I live without the feeling? I think more about it…and know I could. I just don’t want to. The plusses outweigh the minuses. But that’s the whole problem! The minuses are just so fricking huge!

I mean…I will have to live as a girl, for Chrissake! I know I’m not a girl. I mean, well…I think I’m not a girl… I mean. Shit! I just don’t know what I know anymore! Other than the disaster with Gerome the other night…I think I…like…most of what I’m doing…. I can’t even imagine going out in public without makeup anymore…. Tingle or no tingle… I know that doesn’t really drive my…vanity. And looking good…is vanity. But…a guy doesn’t want to look good…with makeup. So…what does that make me?

I guess none of it matters, anyway…not anymore. I just signed the deal with the Devil…with my own blood. I slit my wrists and let it flow…and happily used to sign the contract. I get product for myself…and for Gem. And along with that…life as a girl…for the rest of the year that is still left on my contract.

That the deal is with the Devil, becomes ever more apparent, when Ginny nearly melts my eyes out with some sort of new drops. I thought “molten lava” was the top of the scale…I was wrong. This was more like “evaporating lava…!” And, then Joyce lets loose a hoard of fire ants…and they bury into my scalp…biting and stinging…and chewing all the way to my brain! It’s all I can do not to scream loud obscenities…at both of them! Not that I didn’t let out a bunch of choice words under my breath. If they heard me…well then…it just serves them right!

All of that was bad enough. I mean…torture seems like it might be a nice vacation compared to what they just put me through. But…then Joyce gleefully informs me, that I should be “ecstatic” about the fact…that my hair and eye colors…are now permanent. As in…here to stay. Forever.

It’s too much for my fragile state of mind. I simply shut down…and everything goes black….

 

---

 

I faintly hear someone calling to me…. It’s like they’re miles away…. But someone familiar is trying to find me in the foggy darkness…calling out to me….

“…antha! Wake up, Hon!”

And I’m suddenly awake again!

I look into Momma’s eyes and can’t help but cry. There’s no holding it back. It’s just all too much. The gravity of what I’ve agreed to, is finally starting to sink in…all the way to the inner depths of my subconscious. It all comes out in huge sobs…and torrents of tears.

She hugs me and coos. “It’s OK, Sweetie. I know…it’s a lot to process. But you did agree to it. It’s too late to change your mind, now. But…something tells me that you really are OK with it. It’s just sinking in…really hitting you….”

It takes a minute for my brain to once again fully begin processing what’s going on…. It all comes back to me…and I feel the paralyzing confusion rise to the surface, again.

Finally, I sigh and bite my lip.

I don’t see the point in fighting it now…any of it…the damage has been done. If I can make it through the rest of the year, then we’ll see what I can do about going back to being plain old “Sam”…and making “Samantha” just go away. Or…maybe she won’t…. I just don’t know….

Greta looks at me and nods resolutely as she senses my resolve…to not quit… Then she smiles. “Oh! Good! You’re coming to your senses! It’s about time! Because, I have news….”

 

* * * * *

Rhonda

* * * * *

 

I sigh and furiously chew on my gum. I squirm in my seat. I don’t know what’s happened to me, but my sexual desires have been increasing, over the past weeks. They’re nearly unbearable…it’s like I’m going through puberty all over again…with super-steroids.

And the guys have been after me…thick as thieves! It’s become increasingly more difficult to beat them off…not even with the proverbial “stick!” It’s worst at our after-work “recruiting” events…and the weekly girls’ nights out. My “Goth” look hasn’t deterred any of them, in the least…. For some…it almost seems to be a turn-on. And it’s become increasingly impossible to ignore my off-the-rails ever-rising lust.

I sigh…again. Now it’s time to pull the trigger on Lissa’s new plan. I’m loath to do it. I really don’t want to…but…she’s made it clear that she expects me to follow her orders…and I’ve gotten to the point tht I just don’t fight them…anymore…. So…reluctantly, I dial…Jimmy Rollings’…number.

Jimmy spent a considerable amount of time chasing me…last year…my senior year in school. I was a cheerleader…and he was the starting quarterback...which is somewhat unusual…for a junior.

I had no interest in him. Period. Nada! Not even in the least. I still don’t.

Well, it’s not as much him…as I really didn’t have an interest…in any guy. Now, Stacy…the head cheerleader…she was cute! I let out another deep sigh. It’s not that I had…have…anything against guys. There are some really cute ones. But Jimmy…he’s never been anywhere near the top of my list of potential…datable material…. Actually, he’s never even been on my list. Period. Nada! Not in the least…not even like at the bottom.

But I may as well kill two birds with one stone. I still have no idea why Lissa wants him specifically…in the trial…. Or why she wants him so badly. She just said she would let me in on the rest of the plan…when I have him “hooked and landed.”

He’s pretty much convinced he’s God’s greatest gift to women. But, like most guys, he never had that appeal to me. Even if he is totally buff…and in great shape…and does have a cute butt….

I shake my head hard. Why am I thinking about him like this, all of a sudden? My damned hormones have gone crazy! I force my pulse to slow down and to stop thinking about his butt…but then his tight abs come to mind!

“Hello?” He answers his phone and pulls my thoughts back to the business, at hand.

I steel my resolve…. “Jimmy, Hon!” I say it in a husky voice. “It’s Ronni Brown. How about we finally go out on that date?” Not that I even have to try for “husky”…anymore…it seems to be my new “default.”

Trying not to throw up…I push the bile in my throat back down into my stomach and set up the date with Jimmy. Then I hang up, and sigh. I rub my forehead and grimace, in frustration.

I always thought that I’d be a virgin for my wedding. Whether that be with a guy…or a girl. I’m still not sure, where I’ll wind up…on that little detail. But either way…this was not my plan!

Now Lissa has other ideas…all in the name of her trials…. She is the Devil, incarnate!

I really don’t want to do what she’s demanding of me, but…I have to show her my…loyalty. I shudder and fight the tears that want to form. I have to give up my virginity…to prove my…fealty, to her.

She has made it clear that she can destroy my professional credibility…not just at WG…and I believe her. My career would be over before it even begins. She also has a lot of ties to the academic world…and could make or break my attempts at getting into college…the good ones, at least.

On top of that whole issue, I’ve been getting to the point that…I’m…well…having…undeniable…needs.

I’ve never had issues with popularity, but lately boys have been chasing me…more than usual. It doesn’t seem to matter that I am now completely immersed in this infernal “Goth” mode…another of Lissa’s requirements to prove my fealty. I don’t know why, but it’s like I’m somehow irresistible to them…what that has to do with the look, I don’t know. But the really weird thing is that I can’t deny that…they’ve been looking…good…to me, too. And like I said…that’s just not normal for me.

I check and make sure that my makeup is perfect…and that I look pretty…well, pretty for a “Goth.” I don’t even really notice that I’m doing it…not even the shudder that I still get every time I see my pale face, in the mirror…. I mean, I had quit worrying about my looks, after school…and my cheerleading “career” where I had to be little “Miss Perfect.” Not that my current look would have gone over very well with that crowd.

And…now, the girls at work…especially Dharma and Joyce…have been after me, to play my part as the “bait,” for recruiting. Lissa is fully on-board with that…as a collateral duty to my PA role. But the whole thing has really intensified my…desires. And the boys are really eating it all up…and it seems to encompass the whole table…like there is this radius of desire around me. While mostly I have been fighting the boys off with a stick…the girls have been looking for prospects to sign up for the next trial…whatever that is.

I pop in a fresh piece of gum and chew it frantically. It used to be more…calming…. Now, I just seem to have this irrational need, to chew it…. I groan, as I feel myself flush…and squirm…with a strange anticipation.

Tomorrow evening can’t get here soon enough!

 

* * * * *

Jimmy

* * * * *

 

I’m getting ready to go to football practice. School doesn’t start for another two weeks, but Coach has us practicing early…as usual…before classes start. I’m going to be the starting quarterback, again. If I play my cards right, I may get a football scholarship out of it…and go pro.

Not having to take over at the lumberyard, wouldn’t hurt my feelings. Not saying that it wouldn’t break Dad’s heart. But I don’t want to waste my life away at the sawmill, like he did. It’s bad enough, that I’ve had to waste my summers…and weekends…there!

And…well…Dad’s proud of my football progress, too! I think he would be OK with me making a few million in the NFL! Then I could just hire someone to run the mill for me. I grin and shake my head at my own far-fetched dreams.

I’m about to get into my car, when my phone rings. I jump when it goes off, since I rarely get any calls during the day…everyone knows I usually have to work. I look at the caller ID…and nearly drop the phone. It’s Ronni Brown! I didn’t even realize that I have her number in my phone, anymore!

I have no idea why she would be calling me. I had more than just a small crush on her, last year. I was head-over-heels in love. She’s such a babe!

I nearly fumble the phone, when I answer, but catch it…just in time. “Hello?” I sort of blurt it out, like an idiot. I pause…not wanting to say anything stupid…until I know if she just somehow butt-dialed me, or something.

“Jimmy, Hon! It’s Ronni Brown. How about we finally go out on that date?”

My heart beats faster when I hear her breathy voice. And this time…I actually do drop the phone.

“Jimmy? Are you there? Jimmy?” Her voice is coming from the floorboard where my phone landed.

I quickly locate it under my feet and pick it up. “H…H…Hi, Ronni!” I’m stuttering like a nervous idiot! Pull yourself together, Jimmy! “This is a surprise! Yes! I would love to go out on a date, with you! When? Where?”

She takes a deep breath and I hear her smacking on gum and popping it. “Awesome! How about Jackson’s at 7:00, tomorrow night? I’ll meet you there?”

My heart is still beating hard…like a tom-tom! This is really happening! “Sure!” I croak and I have to clear my throat. “That sounds great! I…I…have to run to practice, but I’ll see you at seven o’clock, tomorrow night!”

She makes a kissy sound into the phone and her voice gets even more sultry. “Seven p.m., sharp! Don’t be late!” And she hangs up.

I start the car and am so nervous, I accidentally put it into drive, instead of reverse. I almost drive into the pole in right front of me. I shake my head…to clear out the cobwebs…and put into reverse, then carefully back up. I take a deep breath to steady my shaking hands and wait for my heart to slow down…then take off towards school in a daze.

 

* * * * *

Coach Reynolds

* * * * *

 

I watch Rollings throw a deep pass to Brinkley. These two have what it takes, to go the distance! If they can keep from self-destructing…. So many great prospects do, before they get their shot. They let it go to their heads, or get a girl pregnant, or any number of bone-headed things.

I pump my fist in celebration, as Rollings steps out of the pocket, to complete another pass to Brinkley…while avoiding a sack, that would have cost him a loss of twenty yards. He made it look easy!

I shake my head. He’s in perfect shape. He’s a significant triple threat, on the field. So, I don’t get why he’s lost his confidence, off the field. Ever since that cheerleader, Ronni Brown, shot him down last year, he’s just…moped…around. He needs to get over her! But he does seem to have more spring in his step, today…something that he’s been lacking. So, maybe there is hope, after all!

I look at my watch. Six o’clock! I loudly blow my whistle, to signal the end of practice. “Good job, everyone! Now, hustle to those showers!”

---

Isn't everything working the way it's supposed to? Everyone is falling in love with Sam....

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WunderBoy

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau

All Rights Reserved.

(Cover image designed by Shauna Rousseau & Joyce Melton.)

(Image Sources: Androgynous Man & Football Field

---

 

 

~ Day 50 ~

 

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* * * * *

Samantha

* * * * *

 

I feel completely drained. Things have turned so weird in my life! I shake my head. “I just don’t get it, Faith! I don’t know how I feel about any of this…. Do you think I look…OK? This is the look that WG wants me to…keep….”

I am next door at my best friend Faith’s house. I’ve been spending a lot of time over here, the last couple of weeks. She’s always been a good friend…and was my first “best friend”…despite being a girl. But then Mark took over…especially after she went to Oakwood. Now…I guess she has taken back that role. I still haven’t heard back from Mark…and I have no idea how he will react to any of this. I don’t even know how to begin to explain it to him…I’ve started to put it into an email a million times…with more detail…. But I don’t know how. Besides…he seems too busy to respond anyway.

Today is my “day off” at WG. I never really know what day I’ll get off during the week, since it depends on modeling schedules…and whatever practice schedule they put me on. So, I make the best use of them I can…when I do get them…like catching up with Faith. I came over early…before Claire…I’m still getting used to calling Mrs. Beaumont that…rode into work at WG…with Momma…so we have the place to ourselves.

We typically meet over here. Even when Chad is at work at the lumberyard…and Daddy is at the car dealership…Gem is usually at home…so we have more privacy here.

I look at Faith…who is intently studying my “look.”

She shrugs. “I don’t see any difference. Am I missing something?”

I sigh. “No…there’s no difference in the overall color…it’s what they’ve been making me go with…for weeks now. But…I don’t know if this is…me.”

“So?” She shrugs again. “You can always change it…right? I mean it’s just hair color and some colored contacts. Stop coloring your hair and take out the contacts…when you’re not at work.”

I shake my head. “You don’t get it, Faith. This is my hair color…not dye. And there are no contacts. The products they have me using at WG changed my colors….”

“Really?” She looks dubious. “Even if that is true…then stop using the products….”

“That’s just the thing!” I whine. “Yesterday…they supposedly…somehow…made it…permanent. I have no idea if it’s true, or not…but the way it hurt…I don’t really doubt it. They did…something. I’m losing grip on ‘Sam’…whether I want to, or not!” I fight the tears that want to start pouring down my face.

Faith looks stunned. “Can that even be true? That sounds like some sort of bullshit science fiction stuff. Changing the color of your hair and eyes? I don’t know….”

I shrug. “There’s all kind of weird stuff that goes on in Lissa’s labs.”

“Lissa?” She looks confused.

“Dr. Melissa Greene. She’s the Director of R&D.” I forget that Faith doesn’t know everyone there…like her mother. “I think she may actually be the Devil!”

She giggles.

I don’t.

“Wait! You’re serious? Is she really that bad?” She looks concerned.

I nod. “Don’t say anything to your momma…but that woman is evil. The others kind of go along…I think they’re scared of her. I know I am! Terrified, actually!”

“But she didn’t…turn you into…“Samantha”…. Wasn’t that…Joyce…? Isn’t that her name?” She screws up her face as she tries to remember the name.

I shrug. “Well…Joyce, Dharma, and Greta have all played a part in that…. But Lissa is the one that talked Momma into signing up for the modeling thing…to begin with. Then that convinced Momma to sign me up for the trial…with the modeling modification. So…somehow…it all goes back to Lissa. After they started me actually modeling…then Adam Ansel got involved… I don’t know how much Lissa had to do with that….” I shudder as I remember the last thing that Greta told me, yesterday.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” Faith is just about the only one, anymore, that will call me “Sam.” But not because she sees me as my “old” self…it’s just a shortened version of “Samantha” to her.

Daddy is the only one that seems to hold onto “Sam” as a shortened version of “Samuel.”

I feel sick. “I have to go out on another date with Gerome…on Friday….”

 

* * * * *

Faith

* * * * *

 

I’m not sure what to make of Sam’s story. She’s…once again…become my best friend. We used to be best friends before I had to go to stupid Oakwood…not that I ever wanted to go to private school. But it was really easy to settle back in with her…and I can relate even better to her better…that she’s…well…a girl. There’s no doubt in my mind…and my heart…that she is. I blush at that thought…and quickly put it aside. Anyway…I know she still doubts her status as a girl. I also wish there was some way to get her into school with me…or to convince Mumma to let me go back to “regular” school.

Then she brings up an upcoming date with Gerome. He’s not a bad guy…not really. I don’t really get her hang-up with him. Well…I mean I wouldn’t want to date him, either…but I don’t want to date any…guy. I once again put that thought aside. I need to support my best friend…I mean I do understand her hang-up…with dating guys. But…I can’t let her…anyone know that.

“What do you have against Gerome, Hon? I think he was kind of sweet at the Country Club the other day. I mean…I guess I get you’re still confused about your sexuality…but give him a chance. It would be different if you knew you weren’t into guys….” If only…but she needs to be sure….

She shakes her. “Other guys…. Despite what everyone keeps saying…I’m not a girl.”

“Are you sure about that, Sam? I give her a pointed and very doubtful look. “I don’t see a guy sitting in my room.” I giggle. “As a matter of fact…there better not be a guy sitting in my room. I’m not allowed to have guys in my room…especially when Mumma’s not home!”

She makes a sour face. “You know what I mean, Faith! Besides…they’re pushing me to date him. It’s like an arranged marriage! How would you like that?”

“I suppose I wouldn’t be happy with that either.” I sigh. “But what I know of Gerome…he seems nice enough. He’s always polite at the Country Club. Trust me…there are some real slimeball members there! And…he seems pretty…OK…at school. Of course, I don’t have a lot of contact with him there…only during breaks and over lunch….”

She shrugs. “Yeah…I know…he hasn’t been…terrible…. I just…lost control…last time…. I wanted to do things…things I shouldn’t…want to.”

I shrug…not really shocked…but disappointed. “You make my point. You wouldn’t want those things…if you weren’t at least open to the idea of liking a guy.”

She shudders and abruptly changes the topic. “I don’t want to think about it…not right now. I just wish you were back in school with me. I’m going to miss having you around for moral support!”

I smile. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere. I am just next door! But…I do wish we were back in school together, too.”

“What’s it like…there? Is it as snooty as I imagine?” She grins. “You just don’t fit the mold of who I picture going there!”

I shrug. “Yeah…it’s pretty much what you would expect an old-fashioned private prep school to be like. It started out as an all-girls school…but turned co-ed right before the turn of the century. Even so…us girls are still segregated from the boys in class. At least they are loosening up some on the girls. It used to be a ‘finishing school’ and taught girls to be ‘perfect ladies.’ There still is that ‘traditional’ track…but most girls are in the more contemporary college prep track. Surprisingly…there are still an astonishing number of girls in the finishing…or ‘traditional’ track…mostly girls from rich families…that come in from all around and board there. I guess there aren’t that many schools left that offer such an ‘opportunity’….”

She screws up her face. “What do they have to do? It sounds misogynistic.”

“No…” I sigh. “There’s no hatred of women…at least not systemically. It’s just pure old-fashioned sexism. It’s totally weighted toward home ec, deportment, and other…‘feminine’ things…even ballet. There’s enough of the basic stuff sprinkled in to have the credits to graduate…and get into a good college…. But only as long as it’s for something that’s in a ‘woman’s’ realm…. Girls from that track would really struggle academically to catch up in…say medicine…or another ‘male’ realm.”

She has a sour look on her face. “That sounds…oppressive! And…a lot like the crap that Joyce and Dharma have been drilling into my brain. It wouldn’t surprise me if they went there!”

I shrug. “Yeah…. And that’s only underscored by their uniforms…. You’ve seen mine…what you would expect…a boring pleated, beige tartan skirt, white blouse, green blazer, and black Mary Janes. Theirs is also a tartan skirt… but in mauve, lavender, and periwinkle…and made of the finest silk…plus it’s an extremely tight knee-length pencil skirt. They have silk blazers…also mauve…and matching five-inch suede stilettos. Their silk blouses are a pale lavender. I mean…it’s pretty…but I’d break my neck in that skirt and those heels!” I look at the designer clothes and the shoes she’s wearing and giggle. “You…on the other hand…wouldn’t have an issue!”

She sticks out her tongue at me and gives me a raspberry. “I guess I can be thankful that we’re poor! There’s no way I would want to go there! I feel sorry for you, Hon!”

 

* * * * *

Chad

* * * * *

 

I get into my car and shake my head. I just met up with Alice at the Quick Stop. It’s the first time we could hook up for days…. And her first question to me is if I can have Samantha show her how she did her makeup the other night at the Country Club. I guess she saw her there when she went with Claire and Faith Beaumont. Alice’s family has a membership….

It’s just weird…Alice is a varsity high-school cheerleader and drop-dead gorgeous…and she wants makeup advice from my…former brother…. Of course, that was a whole other discussion…explaining “Samantha” to her…. I hope Samantha is OK with being transgender…it’s all I could come up with…I mean it has to be true…right? How else do you explain it?

I pull into “my” parking spot at the lumberyard. I park way out…where no one ever parks…but me. I don’t want any fucking door dings!

“Chad! What’s up, Bro?” Jimmy cheerfully greets me. Something’s up! He’s in too good a mood…this close to school starting. But it is our last school year…so maybe that’s it. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him after football practice yesterday…but come to think of it…he seemed in a good mood there, too. Yeah…it must be senioritis!

“Hey, Jimmy! Wanna go over to Fred’s after practice?” There’s just not a lot of time to hang out before school anymore. “Alice and I are going…. I mean…I know you’re not currently serious with anyone…but maybe LuLu would want to hang….”

He shakes his head…but grins wide enough that I think his mouth is going to split. “I can’t! I have a date, Bro! I’m in love!”

I haven’t seen him this goofy since his failed attempts at seducing Ronni Brown.

“You’ll never guess who called and asked me out!” It doesn’t seem possible…but his grin gets even wider!

I shrug. “Ronni Brown?” Of course, I’m just fucking with him.

He seems shocked…but then nods dreamily. “Wow! Fucking good guess! We’re going to Jackson’s after practice. I nearly passed out when she called!”

I shake my head in my own shock. But something’s not right…. She didn’t want anything to do with him, last year. But…I guess everyone has the right to change their mind. I just never would have thought that Ronni would…not on this. “Well…congrats, Bro! After you get the whole first date thing out of the way…we can go out on a double.”

He fist bumps me…and we go our separate ways to get to work…. We both have a lot to do, since we have to leave early for football practice.

 

* * * * *

Gemma

* * * * *

 

I shudder as I finish up in the shower. The tingle isn’t anything like it was…but I’ll fix that with the other products…that I’m now officially allowed to use…. The creams and lotions will certainly give me the tingle I want. I smile…and I can always get a piece of gum…that always helps!

I finish drying off, then take the towel off my head to start drying my hair. I comb though it with my fingers, as I blow it dry…and startle. Something doesn’t look right…it must be the steam doing something to my reflection in the mirror. I point the dryer at the mirror to clear off the fog and inspect my hair more closely in the mirror…. I drop the dryer in shocked dismay…and shriek…loudly! The roots…about half-an-inch of them…are not my normal blond…they’re neon pink!

“Sis!” Fuck…fuck…fuck! I pause to make sure I didn’t say that out loud…then shriek again. “Samantha!”

“What is it, Gem? Claire is going to be here any minute and we’ll need to leave right after that. Your sister has already gone over to talk to Faith.” Momma pokes her head in my bedroom door, but doesn’t come into the bathroom.

I yell out to her. “Nothing, Momma! I just have a question for Sis. I’ll ask her later.” Thankfully, my long hair…mostly hides the pink…when it’s brushed out…and hanging down. I have to figure out something…and quick. I think furiously…and remember that can of spray-on hair chalk that I got for last Halloween. It’s pink…and I still have half a can. I quickly get it and spray it into hair…and brush it out into streaks… It does a good job camouflaging the roots.

Lilly’s mom is picking me up in thirty minutes…and we’re going to the mall…. Lilly has been my best friend…forever…and she’s really jealous about my WG gig. She’s working on her parents…well her momma…to let her sign up, too. Anyway…Lilly just called me and surprised me…and so I won’t have a chance to talk to Sis before tomorrow, since she’s going with Claire to the movies this evening…. And I definitely want to talk to her…before I go to Momma with this. This totally sucks! WTF? I shudder and finish getting ready.

 

* * * * *

Julia

* * * * *

 

“Good morning, Claire! I’ll be ready in a sec! Do you want a coffee to go? The pot is fresh…Samantha got hers…and took it with her over to your house and Gary has his, too…so there’s plenty.” I finish putting on my heels and check my hair in the hall mirror.

Claire pours herself a coffee in one of the spare travel mugs and adds some sugar and creamer.

I sigh…I hate it when people mess with perfectly good coffee…like Gary…otherwise we wouldn’t even have creamer!

“Thanks, Hon! I was running a little late…and didn’t have time. I was going to ask if you stop to get one on the way…but this is much better!”

I nod and we get in the car. I fight the urge to light a cigarette and take a sip of coffee instead. I really don’t want to smoke in the car. “I’m glad to get out of the house…it’s a madhouse! Gem just started on the new WunderTeen products…and is going to Samantha for advice on things. I would be upset…but it’s kind of cute. I’m glad they’re bonding…I think it’s good for Samantha.”

Claire nods. “I agree. It’s cute. But tell me about WunderTeen. I haven’t heard of it.”

I shrug. “I don’t know much, either. It’s a new line that WG is testing…for young teens. Lissa’s involved…somehow…which worries me…. But Greta says it’s legitimate…and safe. At least there’s no real contract involved…Gem gets the product…and tries to sign up more friends to help promote it. If she signs up two people, then the product is free…or she stays on to promote it for a year. Otherwise, she has to pay for the product…which can’t be that much…it’s just the typical body, skin, and hair care products…and a line of makeup.”

“Sounds like a teenage heaven! Not only getting to wear makeup at that age…but promote it, too!” She giggles.

“I though so, too. I was going to let her start wearing it next week on her birthday, anyway…and this way we get free product! Win-win, in my book!” I giggle back…and pull into my parking spot. “Well…here we go! Another wonderful day ahead of us! I actually love my job, now!”

Claire squeezes my arm. “Me, too! I’m so glad it worked out so well…for both of us!”

I look at the clock on the dash and nod…with a grin. “I’ll see you later! We better run!”

 

* * * * *

Jimmy

* * * * *

 

Practice is finally over! This day has just crept by…in anticipation of what is coming this evening. My heart still beats a hundred miles an hour, whenever I just think about it!

I hurry to the locker room and shower off. I swiftly rid myself of my sweat and grime…and hurriedly towel off. Then I run to my car and jump in. After a quick drive home, I bound to my room and get dressed in “nice” clothes. Jackson’s isn’t the absolute fanciest restaurant, in town…but it’s way up there.

Then it hits me…. “Oh, fuck! The bill…!” I can’t help but swear out loud…something I’ve been doing more of lately…to my parents chagrin. No matter…I go downstairs to hit Dad up for some cash. What else am I supposed to do? It’s not like he really pays me for working at the mill. It’s all supposedly going to my “college fund.” The little bit he does give me is a pittance…nowhere near enough for the likes of Jackson’s! I have no idea how he will react….

Thankfully…when he hears that it’s for my “dream girl”…he simply forks over a hundred-dollar bill and grins! He doesn’t say a word….but he does wink.

I smile back at him. “Thanks, Dad!” I take the bill and pocket it. “I’ll pay you back! Or take it out of…something…. No time to chat…I’ve gotta run! I don’t wanna be late! This is so f…ummm…awesome!”

I hurry back to my car and drive the short distance to the restaurant. I’m so nervous when I get out that I’m sweating. I do my best to settle down…and walk semi-calmly into the restaurant. I don’t want to stink…or be all sweaty!

“Good evening, sir?” The hostess is a cute little Asian girl, who is smiling a little too much to not be fake. “May I get you a table? Do you have a reservation?”

I nearly choke. “I…well…ummm…I mean…. Well…I’m meeting someone. But I don’t know whether she’s here? I don’t…think we have a reservation.” My heart is pumping hard in my chest…like after running for a touchdown and evading a huge tackle, in the process.

“What’s her name?” She keeps smiling…but looks a little…aloof. “Maybe she’s here…?”

I sigh. “Ronni…Rhonda Brown?” I can’t help but shrug in impending defeat. Throwing a touchdown is a million times easier than this…even out of the pocket and under pressure!

She looks at her pad. “No…no reservation under that name. And she must not be here, yet…. Normally, I shouldn’t…since your party is not complete…but we’re not terribly busy tonight…. So…I can seat you…and let her know you’re here, when she arrives? I would just need your name….”

I jerk. “Yes! Thanks! Jimmy Rollings! Do you have something…intimate?”

She giggles. “So…it is you! I’m just a sophomore…and not a cheerleader…so you probably don’t recognize me…. Anyway…only the best for our special quarterback! Follow me…Mr. Rollings.”

She takes me to a secluded table…set up for two. “Thanks…?”

“Kameko…but everyone calls me ‘Kim.’” She smiles…genuinely, this time.

“Thanks, Kim. This is perfect!” I sit and take a nervous sip of the ice water she pours into my glass, from a nearby pitcher.

She places our menus on the table and gives me one of those fawning looks the younger girls always give me at school…then she goes back to the front.

After what seems like an hour, I check my watch…but it’s only been a couple of minutes. It’s 7:00, on the dot.

I look up and see Kim coming towards me…with a Goth Goddess. I’m not usually into that type of girl, but this one is…exquisite. I shake my head…I’m here for Ronni…. Then, I recognize her…and sharply inhale. I actually hear myself hiss.

“Jimmy! Hon! It’s so great to see you!” She comes over and gives me a hug and a kiss…on my cheek…but sort of brushes my lips in the process. I’m not sure if it was by accident…or not….

“Ronni? Wha…?” I get a whiff of her perfume…and…and her…aroma. And instantly get hard. My heart is about to pound its way completely out of my chest!

She giggles. “I wanted to rebrand myself…. Being labeled as a cheerleader, was just so…boring. What do you think?” She twirls.

I can’t take my eyes off of her.

She looks like a luscious vampiress.

“You’re…beautiful!” I don’t add that she’s an absolute wet-dream!

She smiles with lips that are so dark red that they’re nearly black. Her deathly pale skin and raven black hair just emphasize the beauty of her smile. The shiny hoops in her lower lip are gleaming…and I’m ready for those “fangs” to sink into my neck…any time she wants them to!

I’m hopelessly in love…once again!

 

* * * * *

Rhonda

* * * * *

 

I follow the girl, Kameko…no…Kim, into the restaurant. I remember her from school…she’s cute! Much cuter, than my current…prospect. I sigh…and resign myself to my fate. But I can’t help wonder if I might be able to sneak her number? She’s not that much younger than me.

I see Jimmy sitting at a secluded table, just large enough for two. It’s a romantic spot. And he has no clue that I am…well…me. Of course, he wouldn’t be expecting a girl in all her Goth glory…especially not…me.

Then, his eyes suddenly light up. It seems he finally recognizes me and quickly stands up. After the initial awkwardness, he shakes his head. “Ronni? Wow! Look at you! You’re…stunning!”

I can’t help but blush…although, I have no idea what his definition of “stunning” even looks like. My appearance is certainly not my definition of anything even remotely close to that…not with my bleached-out complexion. I go give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I honestly want to barf as I gently…but purposely…brush his lips on the way to his cheek. “Hi, Jimmy! It’s about time we got together!” Of course, I’m lying through my teeth. “It just would have been so…cliché, in school. But we’re past that awkwardness, now!” I break the hug…and nearly choke on my…feelings…and force a smile as I step back. He smells…delicious…and my nipples are hardening.

He pulls out my chair…obviously playing the gentleman.

I sit and “coyly” smile at him, over my shoulder, as he pushes my chair in. And I can’t help but notice that he has a very large…tent, himself.

He quickly walks around the table and takes a seat. “I’m really glad you decided to give me a chance, Ronni! I was…crushed…when you wouldn’t give me the time of day, last year. Not that I thought I was anything special…but you certainly are!”

I choke on my water.

Thankfully, I’m saved by our waitress. “Hi! I’m Jenna, and I’ll be serving you, tonight. Can I get you anything to drink…besides water?” She smiles and refills my water glass.

“Iced tea, please….” I nod. “Unsweetened.”

Jimmy shrugs. “I’ll have the same….”

Jenna nods and quickly leaves to get our drinks while we look at the menus.

The rest of the dinner is pretty mundane. We catch up, which is really boring…. I mean, he’s a high school quarterback…and he works at the lumberyard. So, nothing’s changed…or become any more interesting, in his life. What was I expecting?

I give him a little background on working at WG…but not too much…. I still need to reel him in…and a little mystery is good…to help get him hooked.

I’m thankful when we finally finish dessert…signaling an end to this part of my ordeal. Although…a part of me doesn’t want it to end…because now we go on…to the next.

He quickly pays the bill…without flinching at the cost. To be honest, I wasn’t sure he would have the funds.

“This was lovely, Jimmy! Now…why don’t we go somewhere, more private…for a little…alone time?” I wink seductively. But I really want to puke!

Lissa is pimping me out! She knows that Jimmy just turned eighteen. He was in the “late starter” group in school because of his birthday.

I’m still seventeen…I was in the “early group” and on top of that, I graduated early…when I was just sixteen. I pop in a piece of gum and chew it frantically, hoping with all my might that he’ll refuse. If he doesn’t…he’ll be committing a crime, tonight. And…I technically will no longer be able to wear a white wedding gown. But the more I chew, the more I want him…not to refuse. I curse…whatever…this lust is!

“Are you sure? That sounds great, Ronni! There’s a really great spot at the lumberyard…” He smiles…and is nearly drooling.

I shake my head. “I have my own private apartment above my parent’s garage. Just follow me in your car….”

 

* * * * *

Mr. Rollings

* * * * *

 

I sit back and relax. Days are always longer when school starts…and leading up to it…when football practice starts again. I’ve come to rely on Jimmie at the yard. I know he will likely get a football scholarship to college…then…hopefully come back and help run the business…and ultimately take it over.

I guess there always is a chance he could go pro…but I don’t really think it’s very likely. According to Coach Reynolds…he’s good…really good! But slots for professional quarterbacks are hard to come by…and he doesn’t have the physical…constitution…to really take another position. He’s in really good shape…but wiry…not beefy. And he’s not a receiver…like Chad…. He’s definitely not a blocker…or anything…that requires bulk. I mean…I suppose he could bulk up…but I don’t think that’s the type of position he’s looking for…and even bulked up…he’s just not a hulk. No…he’ll be back!

I smile at Martha, my beautiful wife of thirty-five years, as she puts down my plate with dinner on it. It smells wonderful…and I’m starving! “Where’s Jimmie? Isn’t he eating with us?”

She shakes her head. “No…he has a big date, tonight….”

Before she can say another word, he comes bounding down the steps…and asks me for money to take his girl to Jackson’s. That surprises me…not that he asks for money…but where he plans on taking her. He’s never asked for anything like this…and he impresses the fact on me that this is the date. His “dream girl.” I remember taking Martha on our first…and very important…date. It was life-changing.

I just wink and hand him a Franklin.

When he rushes back upstairs, Martha just giggles. “It’s Ronni Brown…she asked him…finally! After all that mooning last year…it looks like she’s giving him a chance.”

“Well…it’s about time! I hope it works out for him! The last time I saw her…it’s been a while…she was still really cute. She would be quite the catch.” I smile at her and tuck in.

 

* * * * *

Gary

* * * * *

 

I sit on my lounger and light my cigar. I puff on it and pour a glass of good whiskey…neat. I lean back, blow out a cloud of blue smoke, and peer through it at the pile of unopened mail on my lap.

One of the envelopes looks interesting…. I open it and nearly choke on my smoke.

“Jules! Come here! Do you know anything about this?” I reread the letter.

Jules comes out and sits next to me. “What are talking about? Know what?”

I shrug and flash the letter at her. “We’ve been invited to join the Country Club…and our family’s lifetime membership has already been paid for!”

She shakes her head. “I have no idea…. Claire is a member…I can ask her if she knows anything. I’ll talk to her about it in the morning.”

I nod…completely taken off-guard. But I’m not looking a gift-horse in the mouth! I’ve been drooling to get back out on the links…. I used to play all the time…before…well…family happened. But…maybe it’s time to get back out there…the fresh air would do me good…and maybe take my mind off of some of the…weirdness…going on in the family.

I just have no idea where this could have come from! Maybe a happy customer…that really likes their car…?

I shrug and happily continue puffing on my cigar.

 

* * * * *

Roger

* * * * *

 

I’m worried about Ronni…she’s my only daughter…well…my only child! I don’t know what’s gotten into her…with this whole…Goth…thing. Belinda went ballistic! But…even though Ronni’s only seventeen…and living in the apartment over our garage…she is practically a genius…. She could have graduated even earlier…but we discouraged it…the same as going to college early. She has a fulltime…paying job…and with all of that she is technically on her own.

The problem is…the job she has. It’s well beneath her potential. Being a glorified secretary is not the type of job that she deserves…or will keep her satisfied for long. I understand it’s good for her resume…but I don’t understand why she thinks that she needs it to help get into college…not with her grades. I just don’t trust this Dr. Greene…or Lissa…as she likes to be called…she may be a genius, too…but I’m not sure she’s the best role-model for my daughter. I’m not sure I buy that it was completely her that made Ronni take on her current…appearance…or that it’s somehow permanent, as Ronni claims. But…I do buy that she somehow influenced it…at the very least.

So…I finally bit the bullet and will start working for WG, on Monday…as a corporate lawyer. It’s not something that I had planned…but they’ve been courting me for several weeks now…enough so, that I’ve been letting my clients know there could be a potential conflict of interest. At least, this way, I can keep an eye on Ronni “from the inside.”

I just hope I’m not too late.

---

Isn't everything working the way it's supposed to? Everyone is falling in love with Sam....

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WunderBoy

Copyright© 2021 Shauna J. Rousseau

All Rights Reserved.

(Cover image designed by Shauna Rousseau & Joyce Melton.)

(Image Sources: Androgynous Man & Football Field

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~ Day 51 ~

 

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* * * * *

Rhonda

* * * * *

 

I wake up with a jerk from the most bizarre dream. Or was it a nightmare? My mind is still foggy with sleep…but I dreamt that I had slept with Jimmy Rollings. It was both wonderful and disgusting….

Then I move my legs and feel the slight discomfort between them…and come fully awake…only to realize that it wasn’t a dream….that my living nightmare actually started last night. I don’t even really remember Jimmy leaving. I was in such…euphoria…and caught up in the lingering ecstatic feelings he had given me…at least for that moment. It’s certainly not how I would describe my feelings now! But…then again…it did feel good…really good.

I shudder and get up to take a shower. Maybe I can scrub the “disgust” off…and just be left with the “euphoria.” After the water turns steamy hot, I step into its welcoming warmth. I scrub myself…hard…then even harder. But it doesn’t help…the memories of last night…all of them…are indelibly imprinted on my mind…

After our dinner at Jackson’s, he followed me home…in his car. One of the perks of having good grades and graduating early…plus getting the job at WG…is that my parents let me move into the studio apartment…above the garage. It’s completely separated from the house, since it was originally meant to be rented out. Well…that’s what the former owners of the house intended. It sat empty for years…only occasionally used by us…as a guest room. Until now…now it is “home.” It has its own entrance…and it couldn’t work out more perfectly for me. It gives me privacy…but I still technically live at home. That solves the whole legal issue of me still being underage…but allows me to be semi “on my own.” Sometimes it pays to have a lawyer for a daddy…although…that can have its downsides, too!

Of course, my parents would never condone what happened last night…. When we got here, Jimmy parked around the corner and followed me up the outside stairs to my apartment. By then, I was no longer able to control myself…and neither was he. I still don’t know what has gotten into me, of late.

I shudder at the memory of the things we did. Thankfully, the apartment is well sound-proofed…since we were quite loud. The feelings he invoked in me…and my body’s responses…were wonderful...in the heat of that moment. And even if he is a guy. But my emotions…in the aftermath…were ones of pure disgust. I’m no longer a virgin…and it was not by my choice. Not that I blame Jimmy for that…that’s Lissa’s doings…. But that doesn’t help me…or Jimmy. We’re both screwed.

I sigh and turn off the water and wrap myself in a towel. I still feel dirty…both from what I did last night…and what I have to do today. I suppose I could talk to Daddy…but…I want to handle this on my own…I’m a big girl...and I need to start acting like one.

I quickly get dressed and do my makeup, then take my daily vitamins and birth control pill. I had no idea when Momma made me get on the pill…last year…that I would actually need it…. I just assumed that any sex I would have would be with another girl…but being on it has helped my complexion, so I’ve religiously taken my daily regimen of them…along with various vitamins and other supplements. Now…it was my saving grace. The last thing I need is to get pregnant! I shudder at the thought.

I take a deep breath and decide to grab a coffee and bagel on the way to work…instead of having my usual breakfast with Momma. I just can’t face her this morning. I feel crappy enough about what happened last night…and I don’t want to get into it again with her, on the whole “Goth” thing. It’s become a morning ritual to argue about it. She just doesn’t buy that Lissa insisted on it…or that it’s permanent….

I sigh and grab my purse. I need to get on the road…my meeting with Lissa…and Jimmy…is in an hour. I pop in a piece of my gum and lock the door behind me. I close my eyes and shudder…I’ll wash my sheets later. Once I’m in the car, I call Jimmy.

“Good morning, Ronni!” He answers on the first ring. “I still can’t believe last night! It was great! Do you want to get together again…tonight?”

I sigh. “Actually, I was hoping you could meet me at work…in say…an hour. My boss has this weird thing about meeting her employee’s family and…significant others.” I put more “husky” in my voice. “After last night…I think you qualify. Don’t you?” I fake a girly giggle.

He’s quiet for a minute. “You mean…we’re a real item? Sure! I can be there!”

“Meet me at the front entrance at 7:50 and we can walk to her office together.” I make a kissy sound and hang up. I groan…I want to puke!

 

* * * * *

Melissa

* * * * *

 

I open the envelope and pull out the stack of official-looking papers. I shuffle through them and giggle…maybe just a bit maniacally. My “Samantha” problems are solved…my contact came through! All the paperwork to officially identify her as transgender is in my hand. I put the papers back into the envelope and put it in my top drawer. I take out the documents for my next meeting before closing and locking it. My contact helped modify the standard contract, as well. I scan back through the modified contract, then send Julia and Claire a message to come over to my office at ten o’clock.

I’ve just refilled my coffee when there is a knock on the door, and I grin in anticipation of what is to come.

Ronni comes in with my newest guinea pig. She has a sour look on her face, so I know she did my bidding.

I don’t care about her feelings…I know she had to have enjoyed it…whether she wanted to, or not. Her special gum wouldn’t allow her not to. And she’s happily chewing on more….

Our guinea pig certainly looks smug. I’m assuming the reason for that is Ronni gave him the cover story we “agreed” on.

I motion for Ronni to close the door behind them and smile brightly. “Well, hello there! I assume this is our newest guinea pig. Jimmy, right?”

He gets a confused look on his face.

“Yes, Lissa.” Ronni nods. “Jimmy…meet Lissa. My boss.”

He still looks confused. “Hello…Lissa? Ummm…Ronni said you would want to meet me…since we’re an item….”

I actually laugh. “An item? That’s an interesting way to put it. But…I suppose it would be accurate…based on what I know. At any rate, I have a responsibility to look out for my P.A.! So…an item…. Hmmm…. Tell me, Jimmy. Just how old are you?”

“Umm…well…I just turned eighteen. Why?” He obviously still doesn’t get it.

I suppose he really doesn’t have a reason to…and nod. “Ronni tells me that you and she slept together last night…as in…had sex. Is that right? Was it good?” I laugh at his face. “Oh…come on, Jimmy! We’re adults here, right? We can talk about stuff like this! Was Ronni any good?” I ignore the look of disgust on her face.

Jimmy grins. “She was awesome…but I still don’t get….”

I break in. “You do know how old Ronni is? Tell me you do, Jimmy.” I smile menacingly.

He shakes his head and looks at Ronni…more confused than ever. “I…I….”

“I’m seventeen.” She shrugs.

I nod. “Seventeen. Have you heard of statutory rape, Jimmy? It’s when someone ‘of age’…an adult…has sex with someone that’s ‘underage.’ A minor. It doesn’t matter if it’s consensual, or not. It’s illegal. Very illegal.” I tap a fingernail on my desk.

He pales. “But…but…but…” He looks at Ronni. “You set me up?” He looks like a whipped puppy.

She shakes her head. “I….”

“Whine…whine…whine….” I break in. “Ronni called to let me know that she was bringing you by…and why. She was excited. You know…since you two are now ‘an item.’ Now, let’s get to the meat of this matter. Jimmy, you broke the law…and I can’t just ignore that.” I nod at the camera recording the session. “And…you just admitted to it on camera. Just to be clear…Ronni’s motives for hooking up with you are completely beside the point. You like her, right? She likes you. Like you said…you’re an item. And I’m happy for you both….” I give Ronni a pointed look. “I’m sure you’ll continue to be a very happy couple. Yada…yada…yada….” I look back at Jimmy. “But you still broke the law…and I have to look out for my employees. We’re a very close-knit family around here.”

I sit back and pretend to mull it over. I want to laugh at his discomfort. “Now…I could be convinced to handle this differently…if you also become an employee…like Ronni….part of the ‘family.’ Then I could handle this as an…internal matter…between two employees.”

I’m pretty sure he’s not smart enough to know that’s totally illegal, in and of itself. Just because it’s “internal” doesn’t mitigate the crime he actually committed…. And…with their close proximity in age…it’s unlikely he would get much of a sentence…although…with her father…I’m sure he would get convicted. Anyway…I’m counting on his ignorance. Once I get my hooks into him, it won’t matter….

He looks dumbfounded. “I don’t get it. You want me as an employee? Doing what? Sweeping the floor? This is a cosmetics company…and I’m no Sam Brinkley!”

I smile dangerously. “Well…you can either tone it down…or I can call the police, right now!”

He pales.

“Now…. Let’s be clear, Samantha signed a contract to be a model with WG…as a WunderGirl. You would not be expected to do that. I don’t see you as WunderGirl material. But just to be sure…you’re not transgender…like her, right?” I feign embarrassment. “Oops! Damn! I shouldn’t have said that. Please keep it to yourself…it’s not widely known.” Of course, I fully expect them both to spread my “slip-up.” I need to cement Samantha’s “status.” I pretend to sigh. “Anyway…she has her reasons for being who she is…and doing what she does.”

I pause briefly to let it all sink in. “If you sign up for the trials…you will be contractually required to test certain body care products…like Samantha…but not as a WunderGirl.”

He shakes his head. “This is crazy!”

“Well…you can take your chances with the law. I think you should expect around fifteen years in prison…something like a hundred thousand dollar fine…and mandatory lifelong registration as a sex offender. You can kiss any kind of college goodbye. Or…you can sign up to test a few products…designed specifically for you.” I shrug. “It’s completely up to you….” I know those are the maximums…and like I said…he likely wouldn’t get the maximum. But he doesn’t know that.

He looks over at Ronni.

She knows to play along with this…like a good girl…and a supportive girlfriend. “Look, Hon. I don’t blame you…. I didn’t know about this…legality…either! But Lissa’s right…you need some protection…. This can give it to you…to us.” She looks like she’s going to throw up. Luckily…that can just be attributed to her normal Goth look…even though I know better.

He sighs and nods…then he looks at me. “Where do I sign? It’s only for body care products, right? And you won’t turn me in?”

I pull out the documents and don’t answer his questions. “Here’s the contract. Just sign here, here, here…and here. We’ll backdate it to yesterday…no one will ever know. That way you were an ‘employee’ when it happened….”

He signs everything…without even pretending to read it. At least the Brinkleys sort of knew what they were signing. This idiot just signed. Well…blackmailing an ignorant kid does have its perks, I guess!

I take the contract and put it in an envelope. “Ronni. Be a dear and take this over to HR for them to process. You can bring his copies of the contract back with you…then the two of you can go celebrate…however you want.” I wink. I know that gum has to be working on her. “In the meantime, I’ll take care of our first WunderBoy.”

Ronni takes the envelope…giving me a totally pissed off look…and quickly leaves….

Jimmy looks at me in confusion. “Wonder boy? What do you mean?”

“Well…” I shrug. “The contract you signed includes the standard WG marketing clause…. Well…almost standard. It is standard in that it says that you can be pulled in to help market our products…. But…since I assumed you didn’t want to market the WunderGirl. products…I asked for it to be modified to specify WunderBoy. products. Don’t worry…that product line doesn’t actually exist…but you’ll be first up to market it…when it does. I had the modification made for male participants after signing Samantha up…when it became clear to me…back then…that it would be an issue for a real man.”

He looks visibly shaken.

“I tell you what….” I give him something akin to an encouraging smile. “Let me take you over to see Ginny. She can explain your test products to you. I’ll send Ronni over there to pick you up when she gets back from HR.”

And this time…I know the psych test he’ll be given is valid.

 

* * * * *

Julia

* * * * *

 

I get Lissa’s message to meet her at 10:00. I’m instantly nervous…then I see that Claire is included on the email. That quickly settles my nerves. There’s only one reason that Lissa would want to see both me and my next-door neighbor, slash WG finance supervisor, slash best friend. It must have to do with Samantha and the Ansel Award.

Claire and I were just talking on the drive in about the strange invitation to the Country Club…and she let me know that it likely came from Adam Ansel. She also let me know after our initial discussion on the award that Lissa was working on getting the paperwork in order….

That alone is enough to scare the bejeebers out of me…knowing that Lissa is even involved. She is a snake…and a venomous one, at that.

I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole award idea. I’m especially not sure how I feel about it…with this whole membership thing…it just seems…off. I know that Adam wants Samantha to get the award…and Claire has moved mountains to make it happen. But…it means declaring that Sam is transgender…and basically forging documents to prove it. Knowing Lissa…the documents will be in order...but at what cost? And what does Adam get out of it?

Then…there is the bigger issue…Samantha has no idea…nor does Gary…about the award. And how do I explain the membership? But…for Samantha to have the opportunity to go to Oakwood…even if just for a year…is too good to pass up. So…she’s going to get a surprise later today…when Claire announces the winner. And…I guess we can celebrate at the Country Club.

I shake my head…at least that’s what I think the meeting is about. It’s all I can think of. I guess I’ll know for sure…in about an hour. I go outside to take a smoke break, in the meantime…and am surprised to find Claire already in the Smoker’s Corner.

“Hi, Claire. Ummmm…this is the second time you’ve been out here this week…. Is it becoming a habit again? I know how that is….” I grimace.

She nervously laughs. “God! I hope not! That’s the last thing I need…but Lissa sent a message to meet her…. Well…you’re on it, too. That woman scares me!” She inhales deeply on her cigarette and rolls her eyes.

I nod. “I assume it may be about the Ansel Award? I’m still not sure how I feel about that…especially after you told me Adam likely paid for our Country Club membership.” I light my cigarette and blow out a cloud of smoke. “Samantha still doesn’t know about the award…or its implications…nor does Gary.”

She shrugs. “Look. It’s a great opportunity. We can all go to the Country Club together. Gary can play some golf with Adam. And Samantha can go to school with Faith…and sidestep a lot of questions that she would have to deal with at the public school. Sure…she has to ‘admit’ to being transgender…but I’m not so sure she isn’t. Are you?”

I sigh. “No…. I don’t really know what to think anymore….”

She grabs my hand. “It’ll be OK, Jules. Samantha will love Oakwood.” She takes one final drag and stubs out her cigarette. “We just have to survive our meeting with Lissa. I’ll meet you there at 10:00!”

I nod as she leaves me alone. I finish my cigarette and light another. I will be glad when this is all over….

 

* * * * *

Claire

* * * * *

 

I meet Jules outside Lissa’s door at 9:58 and we go in together.

Lissa looks up from the pile of papers on her desk and motions for us to sit. “Hi, girls. My contact came through.” She pulls a manilla envelope out of her top drawer and hands it to Jules. “These are the papers you will need for Oakwood…and anyone else that needs ‘proof’ that Samantha is TG. She’s even covered if anyone gets the bright idea to check up on the papers. It cost me a lot…in terms of owing a favor…to get these. So…I will be collecting from both of you, in return.”

Jules pales and takes the envelope. Then she slowly pulls out the papers with a sigh.

While she’s shuffling through them, I look at Lissa. “So…we’re good to announce that Samantha got the award?”

Lissa nods. “Does she know, yet?”

“No…I haven’t told her. Have you mentioned anything to her since we last talked?” I look over at Jules.

She shakes her head. “No. She has no idea. I know that there’s a lot to do to get her enrolled…and everything. So, it’s good these came in…there’s not much time left before school starts. I just don’t know how she’ll do there.”

I nod. “Well…Faith can help her…and Gerome, too. He may not be in her classes…but he will be in the same school.”

Jules pales. “Gerome goes there? Is that why Adam wants her to go so badly?”

I shrug. “It seems to be part of it…yes. Is that a problem?”

“I guess time will tell.” She sighs. “Samantha is not Gerome’s biggest fan, right now….”

Lissa grins. “Ahhh… Young love. I just had to deal with some of that myself…between Ronni Brown and Jimmy Rollings.”

Jules looks shocked. “Ronni and Jimmy? Really? When did that happen?” Jimmy is Chad’s best friend…and he hasn’t mentioned anything about it. And I’m still shocked at the change in Ronni, since she became Lissa’s P.A.

Lissa shrugs. “Last night, it seems. Jimmy is also a now participant in our newest trial… He signed up yesterday…and is finishing up with Ginny, as we speak.”

I smile. “Well good for them! I don’t get Ronni’s new look…but who understands kids these days? I wonder what her mother thinks? But I’m glad she’s found someone that likes her…in spite of her…uniqueness. Anyway…I need to let Samantha know about winning the award…and send out the notification to everyone. I will also let Dr. Henderson at Oakwood know that Samantha got the award. She’ll likely want to meet with Samantha…and you and Gary…tomorrow, Jules.” I quickly leave them to go back to my office.

 

* * * * *

Samantha

* * * * *

 

I’m on my second round of the morning. Dharma has me in six-inch stilettos, this morning…and the heels are as pointed as an old-fashioned ice pick. I only know that because I saw one at the lumberyard….

I don’t know why they keep making me practice walking in heels. I think I could play basketball in them now…well…if I could play basketball…. Anyway…they don’t even really kill my feet…or calves, anymore…not even after walking in them all day.

I round the corner and enter the main R&D hallway. I see Ronni and some guy entering Ginny’s lab. I still can’t believe the change in Ronni…I never would have pegged her for a Goth! It just doesn’t…fit her. Then I nearly trip as the guy turns his head slightly on his way in. It’s Jimmy Rollings! What in the world is he doing here? And with Ronni…going into Ginny’s lab?

I don’t get a chance to ask. I’m about to call out to them…before they disappear into the lab…but my phone goes off and distracts me. I stop and pull it out of the small crossbody purse I use when “making my rounds.” I see that I have a “work” email. I rarely get anything like that…so I’m curious. I see that it’s from Claire when I open it. Then I nearly choke when I read it.

“Adam Ansel Award? What the Hell is that? Wait…! Distinguished female model…? Scholarship to…Oakwood?” I’m muttering to myself as I read through the lengthy notification. Then I scream when the implication hits me. “Gerome goes there! Arrrrgh!!!”

I pivot on my heels…I’m surprised that I don’t drill right down through the marble with the sharp points…and head to where I’m pretty sure I’ll find Momma. I have to know if she knows anything about this!

Sure enough. She’s with Claire in the Smoker’s Corner. It’s a filthy, dirty habit…but it does make finding her easier…the lure of nicotine must be something terrible.

“Momma! Claire! What is this? How can I win an award for a girl? That’s not right! And…I don’t want to go to school with Gerome!”

Momma chokes on her smoke.

Claire looks at me and smiles. “It’s a wonderful honor, Samantha. And don’t think about going to school with Gerome. He’s in the boys’ classes, anyway. Just think about going to school with Faith. You’ll have many of your classes with her. Although…your curriculum will be much more heavily weighted toward the ‘finishing school’ aspects than Faith’s is. You’ll be in the ‘traditional’ track…not the ‘modern’ one.”

I sigh.

Momma finally gets over her choking. “Hon, just think about it. You’ll be going to school as a girl…no matter what. Don’t you think it will be easier to go somewhere you’re not known? You can always go back to public school…if things…change.” She shrugs. “But for now, it really is your best option.”

Other than Mark, I really doubt anyone at school would care…and I don’t even know how he will ultimately react to my…changes. He’s still in Europe…Italy, I think…with his parents…and still hasn’t responded to any of my emails.

Thankfully, Faith has been there for me. It will actually be kind of nice to be back in school with her…I guess. But…I’m still not sure about Oakwood.

“Maybe so…I don’t know.” I shrug. “Anyway…I still don’t get how I can win an award meant for a girl! Won’t they have to know at school that I’m not? And…if so…how will I get put in with the girls? Won’t I have to be with the boys? How is that any better? That would be way worse!”

Momma looks embarrassed…when she admits the truth. “Well…Hon…I have some ‘official’ papers that certify that you’re transgender…that you’re really a girl…on the inside. You will be with the girls…since you are one…at least in the school’s eyes.”

I feel faint.

“It also makes you eligible for the award.” Claire smiles wanly.

“B…b…but…doesn’t that take a doctor…a shrink…or something…to certify it? Aside from it not being true…how did you get these papers. I’ve certainly never seen a shrink!” Suddenly…I’m starting to see the appeal of those cigarettes…or maybe a heavy-duty drug of some sort! Heroin sounds good, right now!

Claire clears her throat. “Well…Lissa was able to ‘remotely’ get you the appropriate statements…kind of like tele-medicine. You have a meeting with Dr. Henderson…the Headmistress…in the morning, at eight o’clock. It’s important that you…stay in your role of ‘Samantha.’”

“But why me? I don’t deserve this award! I don’t even qualify!” I cross my arms in front of my chest and huff. I don’t realize just how much that makes me look like the girl that I’m protesting being.

Momma smiles. “Are you sure, Hon? That was a completely girlish reaction! Are you really sure that you’re not a girl? Give it a shot. What can it hurt?”

“Other than my sanity? My…entire life?” I shake my head. “Oh…I don’t know….” I let it drop. It’s clear to me that I’m just along for the ride. But…I do have to admit…it is kind of cool to win the award. “Wait! Does Daddy know about this?”

Momma sucks deeply on her cigarette and shakes her head…she’s bright red…and coughing again.

This should be interesting!

 

* * * * *

Jimmy

* * * * *

 

I meet Ronni in front of the factory and give her a kiss.

She seems kind of…nervous…or something. I’m not really sure what it is. She’s just acting kind of weird as she leads me into the building.

I nervously take her hand and look around…at all of the women walking in the halls…. They’re all perfectly made up and provocatively dressed. It’s every man’s wet dream…the way they look. But this place gives me the creeps…it reeks of estrogen. I think I’ll steer clear of the drinking fountains…they probably add it to the water in high doses…. I wonder if they can somehow pump it through the air? I shudder. How long can I hold my breath?

My frantic thoughts are thankfully interrupted as Ronni stops in front of an office and knocks on the door…before entering without waiting. I nervously follow her in.

A menacing-looking woman is sitting behind a desk and motions for Ronni to close the door behind us.

Scant minutes later…I fall down the rabbit’s hole. This woman drops an atomic bomb on me. When I can in here…last night was the best night of my life! Now, I can only pray that it was a dream. Because…otherwise…it has become a nightmare! I just turned eighteen a couple of weeks ago…and that makes it illegal for me to sleep with my girlfriend? I get having to worry about her parents…but the law? But…somehow…I know this “Lissa” isn’t joking around.

So…I give in…and sign her infernal contract. At least it seems that Ronni and I can still be together…and I suppose that…now that I’m part of the ‘family’…that…what we do together is…up to us. I mean…that’s how I take the “…then the two of you can go celebrate…however you want” comment…and the accompanying wink.

But then Ronni leaves me alone with her…and takes the contract with her…to file it with HR. It seems that I’m stuck with it…now. For better or worse…. I wonder if this is how Sam Brinkley felt?

This woman is some sort of Devil. I’m sure of it! When she calls me a “wonder boy” it both confuses and worries me…. That’s awfully close to WunderGirl. But…her explanation of what she actually means only serves to make me even more ill at ease…. I mean…what does she mean…the line doesn’t exist…yet? Does that mean it will? And…I will have to market it? I’m afraid to push it…I’ll have to talk to Ronni about it.

Then she drops me off at some sort of lab…. She seems oblivious to my muddled state of mind…or she just doesn’t care…which is much more likely.

But…If I thought the morning…so far…was weird…I was wrong. The next several hours are just fucking bizarre…right out of a horror movie! This woman in the lab…Ginny…makes me take this strange written test…with all kinds of odd questions. Then she loads me up with a fucking truckload of products…potions and lotions…and shit. She gives me detailed instructions on how to use them all…and tells me there are even YouTube videos….

After she’s done going through it all, she dumps me off on this photographer…Becky…who takes “baseline” photos…whatever the fuck that means. She seems oddly…disturbed by me being in the trial…but doesn’t really say much outside of giving me instructions on how to “pose.” Finally…she dumps me back in the lab…with Ginny.

Thankfully, Ronni is waiting for me when she does. “Hi…Hon. How did it go?”

I just shake my head in total confusion…completely overwhelmed with what just happened.

Ginny smiles. “Ronni is a great resource. She can help you with any questions you might have. Of course, you’re always free to ask me, too. You’re one of us, now!”

Ronni just nods and smiles. She’s chewing furiously on her gum. “Come on! Let’s go back to my apartment…I forgot something. Then we can…celebrate…like Lissa suggested!”

“Umm…sure. Bye Ginny…I guess I’m supposed to take all of…this…with me?” I look at the bags of…stuff….

She nods and waves. “Yep! See you later, Hon!”

I pick up the bags and follow Ronni out. When we get back out to the parking lot, I unceremoniously dump the stuff in my trunk and look at Ronni. “What the fuck just happened in there, Ronni? Do you really think I raped you?”

She shakes her head. “No…Hon. But Lissa will…take advantage of anything she can. That’s just…her. She saw an opportunity…and took it. But staying on her good side can bring a lot of benefits. I just warn you about getting on her bad side…. Anyway, let’s not talk about that…I haven’t made my bed yet….” She winks and furiously chews on her gum.

My heart leaps…and I goofily follow along behind her, in my car…back to her apartment.

 

* * * * *

Chad

* * * * *

 

I’ve never known Jimmy to be late for a practice…and today was too close! He waltzed in with thirty seconds to spare! He barely had time to get suited up before Coach Reynolds blew the whistle to start practice.

I catch him on the way out. “What the fuck, Dude? You were almost late! We can’t afford for you to get benched!”

He grins and waggles his eyebrows. “I just scored…twice. Last night…and just now…and the extra points were good!”

It hits me what he means. “You mean…Ronni? Seriously? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

He just shakes his head and grins. “Fred’s tonight…at seven. Bring Alice!” He runs off to talk to coach while I go to start warming up.

 

* * * * *

Gary

* * * * *

 

I vehemently blow my smoke out in frustration. “We have to do what, now? Because of what, now?” I must have misheard Jules.

She nervously lights a cigarette…which is not a good sign. If she’s nervous…it can’t spell anything good. She’s always rock steady. “We need to go to Oakwood tomorrow and speak with Mrs…Ms…Dr. Henderson. She’s the headmistress…to finish Samantha’s enrollment.”

Sam is sitting there…with a mixture of dread and…curiosity…on his…her face.

“I don’t understand. Does this have something to do with the mysterious Country Club membership?” I am completely lost…and I don’t like losing control of my situation…like with Sam….

Jules shrugs… “According to Claire, the membership likely came from Adam Ansel…the very person that insisted on Samantha getting the scholarship. I don’t pretend to understand it all…but the membership is in good standing…Claire checked. She wants us all to go there and celebrate on Sunday. She said something about Adam needing a new golf partner…and wondered if you would be interested. I told her that I assumed you would be.”

I nod. “Sure…that would be great…but I still don’t understand!”

Jules shrugs again…as she blows out her smoke…then deflects as she stares at Sam. “What? I’ve seen you staring at me…and the others in the Corner. Don’t be so quick to judge, Love. You’re curious…aren’t you? Do you want to try it?” She pulls out an unlit cigarette and holds it out to him…her….

My heart nearly stops.

Sam just blushes and shakes his…her head. “No, Momma. Ewwww!”

“OK, then. Anytime you’re ready…you just let me know. But don’t you ever judge me, young lady!” Jules puts the cigarette away.

I’m blown away. I’ve never seen Jules react this way. It’s like a mother-daughter thing…. She really does see Sam as her daughter. I shake my head. “Can we get back to the matter-at-hand? Oakwood?”

Jules sighs. “Like I was saying…Samantha has won the prestigious ‘Adams Award.’ It’s a full ride to Oakwood…started by Adam Ansel…hence the name. The thing is…she will be enrolled as a girl…in the traditional girls’ track.”

My head hurts. “Wait! Sam won an award for a girl? How…? Aren’t there some kind of rules…?”

Sam looks smug…as she grins at Jules.

“Well…yes…. You see Samantha is transgender. I have the paperwork in my purse to prove it. She’s really a girl….” She sucks on her cigarette.

“Bullshit! That takes a shrink! And Sam’s never said anything about it…ever!” I feel like my head is going to explode!

She just gets up and pulls out a sheath of papers from her purse…and hands them to me.

I read through them and almost drop them to the ground in defeat. “So…Sam is a girl…. But when did she see a shrink?”

Sam…antha turns bright red.

Jules shrugs. “It was a…virtual…thing…you know…like tele-madicine. Lissa set it up.” She gives Sam…antha another pointed look.

Sam…antha gets an angry look on her face.

I’m completely lost…maybe it’s another mother-daughter thing?

“You know what, Momma? I think I will take that cigarette!” She glares at her.

Jules smiles…dangerously.

I know that smile. Poor Sam…antha!

She hands her a cigarette…and lights it for her. “Now…young lady. You will smoke the whole thing. I want to see you inhale it…deeply…hold it in for a count of ten…and slowly exhale it through your nose. That way I know you’re actually getting the full effect…and not faking it.”

I want to protest…but know better. Our parents did the same thing to both of us…to discourage us.

Samantha inhales…deeply…and nearly chokes. But she holds it together…she exhales through her nose.

Jules makes her keep on.

She gets greener with each drag. Finally, she puts out the butt…and runs to the bathroom…likely to throw up. She returns after a minute…with a defiant look on her face.

I don’t think she actually vomited…but I doubt that she’ll want another, anytime soon.

It worked on Jules and me, too…for a couple of days…. But we had a whole lot more peer pressure than Sam…antha…smoking was “cool” back then. Anyway…if this didn’t work…then…she…can meet one of my cigars. If it goes beyond that…well…then we warned…her….

I shrug. “OK. Now that that drama is over…whatever it was…what is this about tomorrow?” I take a drink of whiskey. This is just too weird!

Samantha looks defiant. “Oh…it’s nothing, Daddy. I’m supposed to go sign up to be ‘finished’ as a ‘young lady’…and be prepared to take on my role in life ‘as a woman.’ It’s demeaning…and it’s wrong! And I don’t want it!”

Jules loudly slaps the patio table in front of her…rattling the glass.

We all jump!

“Enough!” She shakes her head. “Samantha…you can’t turn down the award…you will go…at least for this coming year. Now get over yourself. Us women have been dealing with sexism for centuries…you’ll live!”

Samantha turns beet-red…and makes a big show of taking a cigarette from Jules’ pack. She looks Jules defiantly in the eye…lights it…inhales deeply…and slowly exhales through her nose.

So much for that plan…!