She was a young, vibrant artist.
He was a block of clay, with a checkered past.
It all seemed so unlikely ...

After Ralph shot himself, a cousin discovered his closet full of dresses and ran them down to the dumpster behind the building before anyone else in the family saw them. Ralph no longer cared who knew his secret. He was dead, after all - finally released from the weird stress of pretending to be male. Oblivion, he hoped, would be sweeter.

He didn’t expect to be reincarnated as a block of clay. Would you? Yet to Ralph it was not entirely an unpleasant surprise. He discovered that blocks of clay have some abilities unknown in his previous human existence. While he didn’t actually have any senses, he did have a certain kind of awareness of his surroundings and could drift a tiny bit outside himself and look back to get a sense of where he was. This is how he learned he was wrapped in plastic and sitting on a shelf. Without a brain it was a little hard to read the sign on the shelf in front of him, but Ralph got the idea that he was on sale.

Time passed, as it does for inanimate objects. Days can go by with absolutely nothing happening, yet they rarely get bored. Ralph knew he had the option to reflect on his past life, but he was still enjoying his new experience and was not in the mood to dwell on old failures.

He was a gray block of clay. No one expected him to behave like a sphere or a pyramid. Humans would wander past and sometimes look at his pricetag. Once a human reached past him and took away a gray block of clay that looked exactly like him. Ralph wasn’t sure what to think about that.

He discovered he didn’t have strong feelings about being bought or not being bought. The store was an interesting enough place and he wasn’t especially eager to leave it. He knew from his previous life how things could go from bad to worse rather quickly, and experience had made him a bit of a pessimist.

Until the girl with the green hat came into the store. She was young and lean and Ralph was enchanted by her clear blue eyes. She wore a red peasant skirt that was similar to a skirt Ralph once owned.

She didn’t seem to know what she wanted to buy. First she was fiddling with the rubber stamps, then she opened a few of the colored pencil sets, and cooed at the orderly rainbows inside. Ralph wanted to hop off the shelf and plop into her knapsack.

Blocks of clay can’t do this, of course, but sometimes they can slightly adjust some of their qualities if they feel intensely enough about a situation.

Ralph tried to wobble. He thought about swaying back and forth, perhaps enough to tumble over on his side, making a noise to attract the girl’s attention. He couldn’t do this. But maybe he could get his plastic wrapper to crinkle somehow? He tried pushing against it, but blocks of clay can’t push.

Somehow all this intense feeling must have caught the girl’s attention, because she suddenly turned around and stared right at Ralph.

There was a long moment as they just stared at each other. Then the girl in the green hat put down the pencil set and reached up and took Ralph in her hands.

Ralph felt dizzy as she took him up to her nose and sniffed him. He had a fresh, claylike odor, even through the plastic wrapper. Her fingers were soft and strong. Ralph pressed against the palm of her hand, melting slightly and remembering her contour.

Then she was carrying him toward the front of the store. Ralph was paid for and stuffed into her knapsack. It was warm and dark and full of her essence. He shuddered with bliss, and carefully examined her palmprint on his side.

Time passed. It may have been weeks, which feel like hours when you’re a thing. Something about the girl in the green hat had brought back a flood of memories from when Ralph was trying to be a man. His short, heartbreaking time with that girl in high school - what was her name? No matter. What joy she brought him in those early days! How giddy she made him feel, just by standing next to him. Later, her disappointments, and her eventual dismissal of him, were better forgotten.

One day the bag was opened and Ralph was suddenly taken in her hands. His wrapping was quickly stripped away and discarded, and the girl was pressing her thumbs deep into him as he gazed up in ecstasy. She worked him thoroughly until he was soft, then kneaded a wire deep inside him. To Ralph’s astonishment, he began to take on a human shape. The girl molded legs and arms for him, reinforced with the wire, then skillfully sculpted a small head to sit on his shoulders.

Ralph shuddered as she pressed against his stomach, slimming him there and broadening his chest. She spent a very long time on his chest, rounding it precisely until he had two full upturned breasts. Then she focused on his legs, trimming them and curving them to her liking. She added pretty little feet and stretched his arms out in a gesture that left Ralph wide open, as if he wanted to embrace the world.

And for the first time ever, he really did. He really did.

Melody Blossoms

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he vanished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just told you —”

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

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

“There!” chorused the four girls.

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

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

The jeans weren’t his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” Clarence mumbled forlornly.

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

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

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

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

“N-now?”

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

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

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

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

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

“B-being a girl? Harriet, I —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

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

“What the hell is she doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fern chuckled and Ruby gave her a high-five.

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

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

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

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

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

She rejoined her friends to find them in another quarrel.

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

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes it is.”

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

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

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

“See? I was right,” Ruby gloated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut your mouth!” the girls chorused.

“Just talkin’ about Fern!”

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

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

“No they don’t.”

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

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

“No it won’t.”

“Yes it will!”

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

Ruby rolled off her chair laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not.”

“Sometimes you have to look deeper.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That morning she woke up with the answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dang.”

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

“Are you tryin’ psychology on me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I being a nerd again?”

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

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

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

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

“Shh! There he is now.”

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

Binqq from Klontarf snapped on the arachnotube to report her latest findings. “I am approaching the unnamed star. Unfortunately the larger planets in this system are uninhabited and unsuitable for conquest. The only sign of life here is a very primitive organism on the third planet. My scans indicate they are barely worth the notice of our beloved Imperial Pomegranate (may her name be honored eternally). I recommend this region be officially classified as BKC ... Beneath Klontarfian Contempt. Binqq out.”

The arachnotube crackled as Binqq’s communique was shuttled an inconceivable number of light-years to Central Command on the Klontarfian homeworld. It was several nanoseconds before Binqq got her reply -- however, due to the complexity of their brains, this was enough time for a Klontarfian to write sixteen sonnets, bake a souffle and genetically engineer a new race of microorganisms that instinctively sing symphonies made famous by the great Klontarfian mezzo-impressario, Berkk Bakkarakk.

So Binqq had plenty of time to ponder what the klonk was taking so long, and if she was going to be stuck dealing with dumb old Krikkenhazzer again.

“Your request is denied, Binqq,” Krikkenhazzer’s nasal monotone blatted out of the arachnotube, parting Binqq’s hair with the force of Krikkenhazzer’s annoying aura. “Proceed to third planet immediately and commence conquest with extreme prejudice.”

“Extreme prejudice? Madame Krikkenhazzer, this klonking planet is mostly water, and its inhabitants have only two eyes in their heads!”

“How many heads?”

“Only one!”

“Binqq, your orders are to commence conquest,” droned Krikkenhazzer as Binqq struggled to keep her hair straight. “And if you say klonking to me one more time I’ll come down there and wash out your arachnotube with limefire, is that clear?”

“Crystalline, Madame,” sighed Binqq.

“You will test a new invention by my Aunt, the Duchess of Blarffingwaffle. It is called a book.”

“A book?” The name sounded utterly alien to poor Binqq.

“Yes, a book. You point it at someone and then use your imagination. It is awesome in its power. Well, actually we have no idea how it works but you’ll find it attached inside your ship’s escape pod. Your orders are to take that book and experiment on the one-headed denizens of that backward water-planet. Then report back with your results. How did it go?”

“I haven’t arrived there yet, Madame Krikkenhazzer.”

“How about now? Are you there yet?” Krikkenhazzer was demonstrating one of the drawbacks of multithreaded instantaneous intelligence -- she, like all Klontarfians, was astonishingly impatient.

“I will report back with my results, as soon as I have any!” bleated Binqq, snapping off the arachnotube before Krikkenhazzer blew her hair off.

Binqq sat and sighed and arranged her heads carefully. Then she synthesized a new substitute for poured concrete and invented twenty forms of government, six religions and a computer virus that could turn every machine in the galaxy into Laughing Cow cheese. This took approximately one-tenth of a second, but she needed to unwind.

Then she stood up on her organic wheels and spun into her ship’s escape pod. She wanted to examine this klonking book contraption as soon as possible.

It was a rectangular object that opened at her touch. Thin sheets of some dried substance was sandwiched between the covers. The thing didn’t seem to be a weapon of any kind. Would these benighted oneheads even know what to do with it?

The last time the Duchess of Blarffingwaffle invented a secret weapon, half the population of Gondulsteen ended up with flippers growing out their unmentionable orifices. Binqq carefully placed the book into the ship’s launch chute and pressed the eject key. From her vantage point miles above the planet, she switched on the telephotocon and watched as the book descended into the atmosphere.

The best way to handle this hot klontato, Binqq decided, was to let the oneheads deal with it ...

Eva saw something drop in the woods. She had nothing better to do, so she walked over to see what it was. It was either that or stay in her backyard, and Eva had seven brothers. Seven!

Orville was the eldest, then came Tony and Teddy, Forrest and Frank, and Seth and Stephan. Eva was the youngest.

It had been a long boring stupid summer for Eva. All her brothers wanted to do was play baseball and each of them was more awful at it than the next. Mom lost count of how many windows had been shattered that June, and somehow her brothers always blamed it on Eva.

It was enough to make a girl walk out into the woods, even if she hadn’t seen a tail of fire whooshing down near Pismo Lake.

But when Eva got there, all she could see was a book sitting by the shore. It wasn’t even hot when she picked it up. What kind of book was this? Who left it here?

When she opened it, it was blank.

Then a light shined out of the book and into Eva’s eyes.

It was as if the woods had vanished. Eva was inside something -- not like inside a tent, but inside some kind of a thing that wasn’t a mind ... but was built to work just like one.

“What do you want?” she asked the book.

Hummm, the book replied. What do you want?

“Well, I expected a nice story ... maybe a whole bunch of stories. Stories for a girl like me. Even a goofy old boy’s story would have been okay, but you’re blank. You have nothing inside.”

I am blank, the book agreed. But one day someone will fill me up. All I need is a story teller. And ...

“And what? What else do you need?”

That depends on my story teller. Will you be my story teller?

“I don’t know. What would I have to do? I liked the stories in my big old book, but Teddy threw it and broke the binding and all the pages fell out.”

You can tell me the stories from your big old book. You will be Story Teller Eva.

“You can put all those stories on your blank pages? Stories for a girl like me? That would totally rock!”

I do believe I can. But Story Teller Eva, you will have to feed me.

“Um ... what?” Eva looked around and felt little goosebumps spring out.

I don’t know what ‘stories for a girl like me’ are. You will have to feed me.

“Feed you stories?”

Feed me girls. What are girls? I think they are organisms similar to you. I could try to use you, but you are my Story Teller. I need other girls too.

“Listen, I’m the only girl in this family ... all I have is brothers and more brothers, and they’re only boys. And even if I was lucky enough to have other girls around, I wouldn’t let you eat them just for some stories.”

Hummm, the book carefully digested this information. I think I am explaining it wrong. I don’t actually eat anyone. It’s more like ... like I take their picture.

“Well, you can’t take pictures of any girls if there are nothing but boys around!”

A leaf blew past them. The book trapped it in its beam of light.

What is this? This is not a girl. Is it an enemy?

“No, it’s a leaf. I don’t have any enemies.”

You must be a mighty warrior, to have destroyed all your enemies. I could have helped with that. I am equipped with many weapons.

Eva stared up at the leaf, still trapped in midair. “Don’t be creepy. I don’t want you to hurt anyone. Besides, you know what Abraham Lincoln said.”

What is an Abraham Lincoln? Feed me.

“The best way to destroy your enemy is to make him your friend.”

That is odd. Boys are not your enemies?

“Gosh, well, sometimes they are, but not really really my enemies, you know?”

Story Teller Eva, please explain. After the brother boy Teddy threw your old story book and it broke and the pages fell out, and you wanted to read the stories for girls like you, and you couldn’t, after all that, why wasn’t he your enemy and why didn’t you destroy him?

“Well ... because it’s just not polite to go around destroying other people.”

The book flipped the leaf over thoughtfully. Where I come from, everyone destroys everyone. Even the coffeepots have fifteen different kinds of death rays.

Then the book analyzed the leaf’s cellular structure and tried some mutations. It gave the leaf a pretty little face and a little body similar to Eva’s. The little green creature looked itself over, laughed in delight and flew off to admire itself in the lake’s shiny surface.

Was that polite? the book asked.

“Whoa,” was all Eva could say.

I will not require girls for your story book. Story Teller Eva?

“What?”

Story Teller Eva, feed me your brothers.

“Where did she go?” asked Teddy, swatting a branch out of his way.

“Who cares? I wanna play baseball!” Stephan whined.

“No one cares what you want,” Orville answered smugly.

“This is stupid,” moaned Stephan. “Why are we following Eva?”

Orville grabbed him by the shoulders. His eyes narrowed. “We’re not following her. We’re hunting.”

Eva came around the bend to see Orville sitting on the big tree stump.

“Sit on my lap,” Orville said with a crooked grin.

“Not again!” she tossed her head angrily. From behind a bush she thought she heard someone laugh.

“Aww Eva, come on,” coaxed Orville in his creepy squeaky voice. “I promise I won’t tickle you this time.”

“You said that last time,” pouted Eva. “You are a stinkin’ liar, Orville.”

“What’s that you got?” Orville pointed at the book.

“Nothing,” she turned to go, and Orville grabbed her.

Her brothers emerged from behind the overgrowth, chuckling, as Orville pulled Eva onto his lap and began tickling. She howled and kicked but she couldn’t escape his big bony arms no matter how she squirmed.

“Stop!” she cried. “It’s not funny!” But they all kept laughing.

She tried to hit Orville with the book but it bounced out of her hands and fell on the ground. She couldn’t escape his tickling fingers, and eventually succumbed to fits of giggles.

“We all get to tickle Eva!” Stephan cackled with glee, dancing around the tree stump like a manic gnome. “We ALL do!”

“Shut up, doofus!” laughed Frank, booting him in the butt.

By then Eva was laughing and crying at the same time. Orville pushed her off his lap and into the bushes. He intended to reach over and pick up the book, but Stephan bumped into him, so he grabbed his little brother, pulled his shirt off and ran away with it. The other boys took off after Orville, laughing and hooting and totally forgetting Eva.

Stephan tried to follow after his brothers but he got turned around in the woods and began trailing off in a different direction. After what seemed like a long time, he realized he had been traveling in a huge circle ... or had he? That tree stump sure looked familiar, but maybe it was a different one ... he shivered without his shirt.

A tattered trash bag hung in a tree. Stephan pulled it down from the branches and wrapped it around himself for a tiny bit of warmth. It used to be white but it had some kind of stuff growing on it that made it a mottled pinkish-red.

As he crossed past the bushes, he saw his little sister in front of him.

She had that stupid book of hers open. A light seemed to be shining up from out of the book into her face.

“Why are you shivering, dear brother?” Eva asked in an unearthly voice. “Are you scared of the big bad wolf?”

Stephan’s jaw dropped. “I ain’t scared. Only stupid little girlies are scared!” he stuck out his tongue.

“Let me fix you, Stephan. You will be the first story in the book.” Eva turned the book toward her brother and a blinding light shined on him.

When the light faded, Stephan was gone. A frightened girl in a red cloak stood in his place. She looked around in amazement and clutched her basket of goodies close.

“Pardon me, Miss,” the girl said politely to Eva. “I’m on my way to my grandmother’s house and I seem to be lost.” She lifted the hem of her red dress and curtseyed daintily. “My name is Red Riding Hood. Who are you?”

“Hi, I’m Eva. I’m your new sister.” Eva smiled and Red Riding Hood hugged her new playmate.

Teddy and Frank were a short distance away, headed toward the house.

“When she gets back tonight, we should all pelt her with mudballs,” laughed Teddy. “Wham! Smack! Kapow!” he guffawed and gestured as if throwing armloads of goopy mud at his little sister.

“You have no style,” Frank chided. “You should wait until Sunday, when she’s all dolled up in her white dress!”

They both whooped with laughter.

“Hey let’s find a beetle to put in her bed,” Frank snickered. He clapped his hands and ducked off to lift a big rock.

A few little centipedes scurried away. Suddenly he saw a huge snake slither out of the grass! Frank almost dropped the rock on himself in surprise. He rolled over onto his back, and looked up to see Eva standing over him.

“Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet,” Eva said with a smile.

Frank scratched his head. “Who are you calling Little Miss Muffet?” he growled.

“You!” she laughed. “You are the next story!”

There was a brilliant flash of light, and a little girl in an old fashioned costume was suddenly sitting there, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Hello, Eva,” said the girl, smiling up at her. “Would you like to share some curds with me?”

Eva giggled, marveling at the girl’s cute blonde curls framed by her snow white bonnet. Before she could say another word, a little crawly thing skittered up into her lap. Miss Muffet leapt to her feet and shrieked at the top of her lungs. Her cereal bowl plopped down on the ground and she ran off howling.

Eva turned around laughing mischievously, and almost got hit with one of Teddy’s mudballs!

“Nearly got you!” Teddy laughed.

“Tsk tsk! A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be digging around in the dirt,” Eva scolded. “...Unless of course, she has a garden.”

“Have you flipped?” Teddy asked in surprise. Then the light from the book shined on him, and he turned into a lovely little girl in a big victorian dress and a flowered sun hat.

“Mary Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” Eva asked her newest sister.

The girl curtseyed and replied. “With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row.”

Eva smiled and watched as Mary Mary sprinkled water on her flowers from a pink watering can.

A bunny scampered across the path in front of Eva. A moment later, Tony ran along in hot pursuit. He had his slingshot out and was ready to let loose when Eva knocked the weapon out of his hand.

“What’s the matter with you? I almost had it!” Tony yelped in frustration.

“This is more important. I want you to be in my story book,” explained Eva. She turned the book around and a beam of light washed over him. A moment later, a blonde girl in a pale blue dress stood before her.

“Where’s your apron?” asked Eva. “Alice always wears a white apron!” She jostled the book and suddenly a frilly white apron danced over and wrapped itself around Alice.

“Pardon me, Miss, have you seen a white rabbit pass by?” Alice asked her sister in a charming English accent.

A while later, Eva came upon Seth, slouched in the shade of an apple tree.

“It’s your turn to do the dishes,” Seth said to her without looking up.

“I did them yesterday!” Eva objected.

“Yeah well, I ain’t doing them so it’s your turn again.” He smiled smugly.

“It’s not fair to make me do the chores all the time! How would you feel if your sisters made you do the chores all the time?”

“Yeah well, I only have one sister and she’s too little to make me do nothing,” sneered Seth.

“You have more sisters than you think, Seth.”

He looked up at her. “What the devil is that supposed to mean?”

But before he had finished the sentence, Seth turned into Cinderella.

Eva laughed as he quivered in his sooty rags. “Did you do all the dishes?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Eva, and I swept the floors and washed all the windows. Please let me go to the ball! Pleeeease?”

Try as she might, Eva really couldn’t bring herself to be mean to her sister. She opened the book again and let the light engulf Cinderella. They both gasped to see her in a glittery blue ballgown and twinkling glass slippers.

“I saw that!” hollered Forrest, running up to the girls. “You pointed that light at Seth and turned him into ... into a freaking fairy princess!”

“I’m not a fairy princess, sir,” objected Cinderella. “Merely a simple country girl.”

“Turn him back!” Forrest commanded Eva.

“Oh that wouldn’t be fair,” smiled Eva. “She so wants to go to the ball.”

“Truly I do!” pleaded Cinderella.

“I don’t care!” shouted Forrest. He whirled on Eva, “How could you do this to your brother?”

“The same way I did to Stephan, and to Teddy and Frank and to Tony too!”

Forrest turned pale. “They’re all girls out of storybooks?”

“Not really. Teddy and Frank are nursery rhyme girls, and Stephan is a folktale.”

Forrest turned desperately to the girl in the ball gown. “Seth, buddy, don’t you even remember being a boy? Don’t you want to go back to doing all the fun stuff we do?”

Cinderella blushed, “Wellll, yes I do remember all those wild, savage things I did. But I’m a girl now, Forrest. I dearly do want to go to the ball!”

“And I want sisters! I’ve had brothers for nine years now!” pouted Eva. “Enough with the brothers already!”

Forrest shook his head in amazement. He tried to stammer out a reply, but no words would come.

“Give me that book!” he finally shouted. “I’m the biggest and I get to decide!”

“Nooo!” Eva tried to hold the book in her hands, but Forrest was the tallest and strongest of all her brothers and she felt him prying the book out of her grasp.

“It isn’t fair!” sobbed Eva. “You’re always the biggest! That means you always get to decide everything, even if you’re not the smartest or the oldest or even the most grown up!”

Forrest didn’t even bother to answer. He just wrenched the book out of Eva’s hands.

“Now how does this thing work?” he asked, flipping it open. He was shocked to see an illustration of Little Red Riding Hood that looked distressingly similar to Stephan.

“I’ll show you,” Eva pushed the book more closely to her brother’s face. “Look into the light.”

Forrest squinted as the light dazzled him. “Stop singing -- I’m trying to figure this out.”

His sisters didn’t answer. They had joined hands and were dancing and singing together. Finally he was able to make out their words.

“Thumbelina Thumbelina, tiny little thing ... Thumbelina dance, Thumbelina sing ...”

Then the book became very heavy and very large. The earth suddenly lurched up as Forrest shrank down down down to the size of the smallest girl of all, the tiny Thumbelina.

Story Teller Eva? asked the book in the grass. I need to explain to you ... I was hardwired to never reveal that you are being monitored. I still should have told you. It was not ... polite of me.

“Did you say something?” Eva said as she picked up the book.

Hummm. It had taken the book a great deal of time and effort to override the many failsafes and traps designed to prevent it from saying what it just said. Now it would have to run the entire obstacle course again.

Hummm. Just know I’m sorry, Story Teller Eva. I’m sorry about what will happen now.

The earth suddenly lurched up as Binqq from Klontarf stepped out of the electro-transporto beam and strapped on her deathmitts. She had seen the onehead playing with the book, and clearly, the book wasn’t doing much of anything. The people only had one head before the lightbeam touched them, and afterward, they still only had one head. The Duchess of Blarffingwaffle’s invention was a failure.

Binqq still had to retrieve it, of course. And as long as she was here, she may as well lay waste to the planet and claim its remains as property of the klonking beloved Imperial Pomegranate.

Binqq sighed. She knew they wouldn’t cooperate. These backward primitives never do. The rivers would run white with their dust, or whatever colored dust they had in their body cavities.

“Where the devil are all of you?” Orville shouted from the yard. For the first time since he could remember, none of his brothers were around. He was so used to them flocking around him. Sure, Forrest was now the tallest, but even he looked up to Orville as their natural born leader.

Orville was used to this treatment. To him it simply was the way things ought to be, and when one of the others didn’t follow, he took it as a personal insult. Eva was always wandering off on her own, the dippy kid. No matter what he tried on her, she didn’t seem to get the message. Orville just didn’t know what to do with the daffy girl. Should he shun her entirely, the way she apparently shunned him? What if the others began to follow her example and went off in their own directions?

The thought bothered him. A lot.

What good is a leader if nobody follows him? He’s nothing.

Orville picked up the baseball bat, then angrily threw it down.

Deep in the woods, he thought he heard a girl laughing. Then, “Ba-a-a-a-a-ah!”

“Eva?” Orville hollered. “You better get back here, there are dishes to do!”

From another part of the woods, a girlish giggle was heard.

Then, “Ba-a-a-a-a-ah!”

From all over the woods, Orville could hear girls calling, “Ba-a-a-a-a-ah!”

Then he turned and saw Eva standing next to him.

“Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,” she pouted. Then she opened her book.

A servorobot swooped down on them and snatched the book out of Eva’s hands. Eva and Orville watched in astonishment as the servorobot flew around in an arc, returning to a short green multiheaded creature that rolled into their yard. Binqq plucked the book out of the servorobot’s mandibles.

“Hey give me that back! That’s my storybook!” Eva cried at the creature.

In reply, Binqq pointed one of her deathmitts and disintegrated their garage.

Then she rolled over toward the terrified children.

“Bring your queen to me, so that she may surrender to the mighty Imperial Pomegranate of Klontarf!” Binqq thundered.

“Our ... queen?” squeaked Orville.

“I ... I am the queen of the earth,” Eva said, trying her best not to quiver. “And this is my, uh, trusted cohort.”

“You may refer to me as Binqq. Why is he laughing?”

“He’s ... well, he’s awestruck by your magnificence, O Binqq.”

“Well, let’s get this over with. The Empire of Klontarf, in the person of the beloved Imperial Pomegranate (may her name be honored eternally), officially lays claim to all your lands and resources and peoples and trademarks and intellectual property. Any attempt by you to resist our might is strictly prohibited. The Empire can simply launch a dark matter warhead into your sun, vaporizing your solar system instantly. Why is he still laughing?”

“He ... heehee ... I think he wants you to sit on his lap.”

“Yes,” agreed Orville. “It’s how we surrender.”

Binqq rolled her seventy-three eyes. “Fine.”

Cinderella, Mary Mary, Red Riding Hood, Thumbelina, Alice and Miss Muffet crept back into the yard and watched as the little green alien wheeled over to their brother and seated herself on his lap.

Another disadvantage to the monstrously huge brains of the Klontarifans was that their bodies had approximately 16,000 percent more nerve endings than humans. Klontarfians, in fact, were the most sensitive creatures in the universe, at least since the Eerdwarks had been driven extinct by an invasion of butterflies in the year Aught Cubed.

It took Orville about thirty seconds to get Binqq to promise to leave the solar system and classify it as uninhabited. Then her squirming and giggling forced her to drop the book.

Eva scooped it up and used it to imagine Binqq safely and quickly off on her way. And just to be sure, she imagined that Binqq would keep her promise for the rest of her born days.

The children celebrated their victory all evening by dancing and singing around the yard. Mom was a little surprised to see how many famous daughters she suddenly had, but they were such a cheerful bunch, she was happy to have them, and more than a bit relieved to see none of her windows had been smashed that day by foul balls. She served them each an extra slice of pie.

No one told Mom about the garage.

Alice talked about her adventures after she chased the white rabbit, and Mary Mary gave each of her sisters a fresh bouquet from her garden. Cinderella shared her frustration after discovering there wasn’t a ball within miles of their house. Mom promised to take her to a cotillion which was being held in town next week, which cheered her up a little.

“That’s really some dress you’ve got on there,” Orville said to Miss Muffet. “But don’t you want to go back to being a boy again?”

“Oh please ... don’t remind me,” Miss Muffet replied with a blush. “Of course I remember being Frank and playing with all those icky spiders and frogs and things. But now I just want to play with my sisters and laugh and sing. I’d be miserable as a boy.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t turn me into a girl too,” Orville told Eva. “I don’t think Little Bo Peep would be as good as tickling aliens as I am.”

“Only one way to find out,” smiled Eva.

She reached for her book, but then changed her mind. Orville was the only brother she had left now, and she honestly didn’t like the idea of losing all of them.

And after all, tomorrow is another day.

---

---

---

Seven-year-old Marigold sat alone in the crowded backstage dressing room. Her Momma had fixed her makeup for her and fussed over her pretty white dress. Momma left when the contest manager announced that all mothers must return to their seats in the theater. A few of the other mothers left as well, but most of them stayed, drilling their sons and daughters on last-minute stage manners. “Once more, curtsey!” a dour-looking owl momma instructed her owlet. “And smile, Olive, smile!”

Marigold kicked her big bunny feet back and forth in the tall chair, fighting a mix of jitters and boredom. She flipped through a pile of booklets the contest ladies had left next to the lighted makeup mirror. The brochures were for local contests -- mostly song competitions like this one, but also some general talent contests for kids, and a few band camps. Marigold sighed to herself. She was glad her Momma didn’t see all this stuff.

Song contests were a mistake. As much as Marigold loved to sing, and was pretty good at it, she now realized she wasn’t all that good. Not good enough to win a trophy, certainly. And it was embarrassing to get up on stage and sing your heart out and not get a nice shiny trophy for Momma to display on the mantelplace. The kids who won the trophy had been to dozens of contests and knew their way around. Plus, they could sing better than anyone Marigold had ever heard before.

Marigold sighed and flipped through the brochures again. She could hear the hubbub of the audience seated in the theatre, yards away from where she sat. She knew her Momma was there, and her Poppa, and Toto and Peanut, her two big brothers. They would soon be cheering and rooting for her to win. But she knew some other kid would get the trophy, and then her family would have another long car ride home, with Poppa declaring that winning is not the most important thing and that she needed to keep trying.

Toto had a trophy on the mantelplace for last year’s baseball championship. Peanut had two trophies, one for the spelling bee and one for archery.

Just then, she noticed a bright pink brochure tucked into one of the other booklets. LOCAL BEAUTY PAGEANTS – SIGN UP NOW! The brochure described a half-dozen local pageants for girls, and included the rules and applications for each pageant. Marigold smiled. She carefully put the other brochures aside and turned her full attention to the pink one.

The sound of applause signaled the first of the song contestants to make his entrance, a portly pig boy who began singing Oklahoma in a thin, reedy tenor. But Marigold was deeply engrossed in reading pageant rules. The Miss Harvest Squash Pageant was strictly for ages nine to thirteen ... that was a bit older than she needed. And the Miss Magnolia Blossom Pageant only accepted contestants aged five through eight. But there were several others that fit exactly what Marigold was looking for. The Foghorn Falls Tippytoes Pageant had a much wider age range, as did the Miss Succotash Junior Queen Festival Competition.

She grabbed a pencil out of her backpack and began filling out an application in Toto’s name.

It had been several years since Toto and Peanut were first introduced to dresses. Marigold fondly remembered that day. She was five years old. It was a rainy Saturday morning and momma was hurrying to get her shop ready for the 9 a.m. opening. Momma wore her usual shopkeeper attire, a spotless white blouse and a dark knee-length skirt with polished brass buttons.

Marigold was coloring in her art book and Toto and Peanut were having a rousing game of tag, chasing each other up and down the rows of dresses.

“Don’t break anything!” Momma cautioned. A moment later, there was a crash as a rack of dresses spilled over onto the floor.

Marigold shrugged and helped her momma pick up the dress rack as the boys raced upstairs to the second level of the shop.

Momma picked up an armload of dresses from the shop floor. Most of the colorful party dresses were fine, but two of them would need a lint brush. She hung those two on a hook just inside the dressing booths.

“You two play nice up there, or you’ll wish you did!” Momma yelled after the boys in her warning voice.

“Yes Momma!” both boys called back, followed by the sound of clatter as another dress rack fell to the floor.

“For Heaven’s sakes! We’re opening in thirty minutes, I don’t have time to clean up after you!” Momma exclaimed.

“It was Toto!” Peanut hollered down from the top of the stairs. “I wasn’t doing a thing!”

“He pushed me!” Toto accused.

“Come down here and sit nicely, so Momma can keep an eye on you!”

“Yes Momma,” the two boys chorused solemnly. Then they skipped downstairs, mischievous grins on their bunny faces.

“And don’t push your brother!”

“I only pushed him like this,” explained Peanut, gently pushing one of the chairs next to the front counter. “But heee – he pushed me like this!”

He gave the chair a mighty push and the counter behind it teetered back and forth. A display of earrings tipped over and fine jewelry scattered, jingling as it flew to every corner of the shop.

Without another word, Momma grabbed Peanut in one paw and Toto in the other and marched them both back to the dressing booths. Marigold sighed and started picking up the shining earrings from here and there.

“Get those off!” she heard Momma shout from behind the dressing booth curtain. “You two are in for a well-earned punishment now!”

“I’m not wearing this!” Toto objected. “I wasn’t doing --”

“Yes you are! You are wearing this! And you, Peanut, are wearing this!”

“Noo Momma, we’ll be good from now on!”

“That’s right, you will be good from now on!” Momma agreed. This was followed by the quick sound of a zipper being pulled up, followed by a second, equally authoritative zip. “Stop fidgeting! You’ll wear those until you prove you can behave yourselves, understand?”

Marigold put a pawful of earrings back on the countertop as Toto wandered out from behind the curtain. He had a dazed expression on his furry little face. He was wearing a pale yellow taffeta party dress puffed up with a lacy petticoat. A shiny satin sash encircled his waist and tied in large butterfly bow in back.

Marigold was so surprised she forgot to giggle. “Toto? What happened to you?” she asked in wonderment.

“Hmph! Nothing!” Toto crossed his arms and turned sharply away, his dress flipping, rustling and bobbing as he moved.

“But Momma—” Peanut complained from behind the curtain.

“Maybe you’ll be a little more careful around here, young bunny! Out you go!”

Marigold turned expectantly toward the curtain. She was rewarded with the sight of Peanut in a pale green dress decorated with rows of lace ruffles. The sleeves were puffed out in two pretty spheres and trimmed with a floral lace overlay. The fine silk of the dress shined and shimmered. His brother’s dress was truly fit for a fairy tale princess. This time, Marigold enjoyed a little chuckle, but quickly went silent as Momma entered the shop.

“There! This is what your horseplay and hijinks have brought you to! Now march yourselves up to the balcony and wait for me there! I have a lot of cleaning up to do, thanks to you! And don’t show your underskirts on the steps!”

The two boys glumly made their way upstairs, carefully holding their skirts close to their legs as Momma instructed. They crossed the carpet on the upper floor and opened the door to the little outdoor patio, where the balcony overlooked a pretty courtyard of buildings in the shopping district.

“I think I found them all,” Marigold said softly, as she put the last of the earrings back on the counter.

“Thank you, baby,” Mamma said warmly, and began to place the earrings back into the display case. “Baby, please check on the other rack your brothers knocked over -- and don’t tease them. This is a very severe punishment for boys to endure.”

“Oh, I would never tease my brothers, Momma,” promised Marigold. But in her heart she knew this would be a titanic promise to keep. “Um, but why did you put them in dresses?”

“Because I wanted good behavior from them.”

“So putting a boy in a dress makes them good?” Marigold asked.

“It’s a way to get good behavior from naughty boys,” nodded Momma.

Marigold thought this over as she made her way upstairs. The dress rack that fell here only had a few dresses on it and was easily put back in place. Then Marigold quietly opened the sliding door to the outdoor balcony, where her two brothers sat on a long wooden bench under the galvanized awning, staring unhappily out at the rain. A chilly breeze blew up from the vent in the floor, making the boys’ dresses flutter aimlessly.

“You look like a lemon and a lime,” Marigold said smugly as she sat next to her brothers.

“Hmph! Very funny!” Toto fumed.

“We might be wearing dresses now, but you have to wear dresses for the rest of your life!” Peanut said angrily.

Marigold carefully smoothed out her skirt and fluttered her eyelashes. “Well, who knows how long you’ll be wearing dresses? Because I –”

“Because you what?” Toto asked anxiously.

“Because I hid your trousers while Momma was busy!” Marigold said, surprising herself with her own idea.

Peanut looked like he swallowed a pepper plant. “Not our trousers! Where did you hide them?”

“In ... in a place nobody can find them! So I hope you like wearing your fancy fluffy dresses!”

Toto wrung his little paws together. “Oh come on, Marigold. That’s no fair. You have to give us our trousers back!”

“If you don’t, we’ll tell Momma!” Peanut threatened.

“If you tell Momma, you’re a frilly lacy lime-colored tattle-tale!” Marigold answered, and stuck out her tongue.

“Am not! Now give us our trousers back!”

“Okay,” Marigold smirked, “but first, you have to do me a favor.”

“A favor?” Toto asked suspiciously. “What kind of a favor?”

“A very nice one, mister fluffy puff dressy dress. My friend Zephyr is coming here today.”

“Zephyr’s coming here? Why?”

“To buy a dress, silly.” She drew closer to Toto and whispered in his ear. “I know you have a crush on her.”

Toto looked down at his pretty yellow dress in frustration. “I do not! And don’t tell her that!”

“So, what do we got to do?” Peanut asked impatiently.

“Just offer to help her pick out her dress.”

Peanut and Toto looked at each other uncertainly. “That’s all?”

“No. You’re going be modelling dresses for her,” Marigold explained with a sweet smile.

“No way! I’m gonna tell!” Peanut hollered.

“If you tell, you’ll never get your pants back. You’ll have to walk home dressed like that,” giggled his sister.

“Ooooh! We ain’t doing it!” Toto yelled, his paws balled up in fists.

The clock began to chime. It was time for the shop to open.

Marigold hopped off the bench. “Okay, you two stay here in your pretty dresses, I’ll go help Momma.” She scampered downstairs as quick as her bunny feet could carry her.

“You haven’t been teasing your brothers, have you?” Momma asked, as she undid the lock on the big front doors.

“Mee?” asked Marigold. Her cheeks blushed red.

“Hmm ... well, tell the boys to come down here, their punishment time is over.”

“Already?” Marigold’s disappointment was considerable.

“Yes, and don’t tarry! Your friend is arriving this morning and I want you to help her find the perfect dress.”

“Yes Mamma,” Marigold turned and scampered back upstairs. She pushed open the door to the balcony and made a funny face at her brothers.

“Little Miss Lemon and Little Miss Lime!” she giggled. The boys sat on the bench with their arms crossed, looking very uncomfortable.

“You shut up!” Peanut grumbled at his sister.

“Yeah, shut up!” Toto agreed. “We decided, we ain’t modelling any dresses for anyone!”

“Especially girls!” Peanut added.

“Yeah! Especially especially pretty girls like Zephyr!” declared Toto.

“It’s beyond our dignity and honor!” Peanut exclaimed.

“Really? I guess you won’t get your trousers back then.”

The brothers looked at each other in panic.

“Now come on, Marigold!” Toto yelled.

“Now come on, Marigold!” Peanut echoed.

“Also, Momma wants you downstairs right now.”

“She does? Why?” Peanut asked nervously.

“I don’t know. But you dollies better hurry if you know what’s good for you.”

Toto hopped to his feet, the crisp taffeta of his dress swishing and swaying about him. “She’s not mad any more, is she?”

Marigold paused for dramatic effect, then shook her head. “She didn’t seem mad.”

“Oooh, we better hurry anyway!” Peanut peeped, the green lace of his dress crinkling and flouncing as he rose from the bench.

“Remember to keep your underskirts hidden, girlies,” Marigold said with a smile.

The boys hurried inside. At the top of the steps, Toto grabbed Peanut by the lace hem of his dress. “Wait a minute. If Marigold hid our trousers and Momma can’t find them, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know! But I ain’t modeling no more of these stupid things! I’ve had it with frilly girl stuff!”

“Hey!” Peanut’s eyes lit up. “Maybe we can just say we want to model dresses, and then sneak off before anyone knows what’s up.”

“Sneak off, dressed like this? That’s got to be the dumbest thing you ever said!” Peanut’s ears twitched and quivered. His delicate lace dress ruffles flapped about his legs as he hopped indignantly.

Marigold, listening behind the door, had to cover her mouth to quiet her chuckles.

“Well, maybe modeling a few stupid dresses is the easiest way out of this predicament,” Toto argued.

“No way! Marigold and her zebra chum will laugh at us!”

Their plans at a stalemate, the boys made their way down the steps, carefully watching their puffy dresses as they descended.

When they looked up, the first thing they saw was the striped face of Mrs. Watusi, Zephyr’s momma. She was a tall regal-looking zebra lady wearing a small sky-blue hat trimmed with long, curled feathers. Her tailored raincoat perfectly matched the color of her hat. She carried a pearl-handled umbrella that was roomy enough for two. Her black purse shined like polished onyx. She wore earrings and a necklace of thick, heavy gold.

Next to her stood her daughter Zephyr, the lovely zebra lass that poor Toto was so enchanted by. She looked at him in surprised amusement as Toto reached the bottom of the stairs and took his paws from the hems of his lively skirt.
“Oh no!” Toto blurted out.

Zephyr wore a starched white blouse covered with a pattern of pink and blue floral blossoms. Her skirt was midnight blue, with perfect deep pleats. She wore a bracelet and necklace of the same thick gold as her mother’s. Her cropped mane shone, black and stiff. Her lovely face was beautifully exotic and refined. Toto was lost in her merry green eyes.

Mrs. Watusi’s mouth formed a small circle of surprise as she looked down at Toto and Peanut. Her eyes darted questioningly toward Momma.

“My boys were a bit rambunctious this morning,” Momma explained. “They needed a little change of pace to settle them down, but I think they’ve learned their lesson now.” She smiled and gently began to usher the stunned Toto and the shivering Peanut back toward the changing booths.

“Wait!” Zephyr said. She quickly crossed to Toto’s side and took his paw in her firm zebra grip. Peanut tried to draw back, but she quickly took hold of his paw as well.

Marigold watched from the top of the stairs, wondering what would happen next.

“It is you, Toto!” Zephyr exclaimed.

“Um, yeah, I guess it is,” Toto admitted shyly. “I guess you want to buy a dress or something like that, huh?”

“Why, yes,” Zephyr’s melodious voice washed over the timid bunny boy. “My cousin is getting married in the fall and she’s asked me to be her flower girl! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Oh boy, yeah, that’s just swell, Zephyr,” Toto replied, nervously glancing at Mrs. Watusi. “Why, hello, Ma’am, welcome to my Momma’s dress shop.”

“Yeah! We got a whole heap of dresses and other girl stuff here,” Peanut explained, trying to appear relaxed and casual in his shimmery party dress. “You’re gonna be a flower girl? I guess there’s some flowery type dresses somewhere in this place. There’s gotta be, right?”

“Of course there is,” his Momma assured. “I set aside a selection of our best flower girl dresses for Zephyr to choose from. I know you’ll find your dream dress here, dear.”

Zephyr smiled, keeping her eyes on Toto. She seemed utterly charmed by the two boys in their puffy party dresses.

“Zephyr? We could –” Toto blurted “I mean, if you wish – my brother and I could help.”

Mamma had just taken Mrs. Watusi’s umbrella and was placing it in the stand near the door when she heard Toto’s offer. “No, that’s – where is baby Marigold?” Mamma asked.

“Would you help me, Toto? And Peanut? Oh that’s so thoughtful and nice of you. Look, mother, they know all about flower girl dresses! Isn’t it remarkable?”

Mrs. Watusi blinked. She was too puzzled to know what to say. “But Zephyr dear, how could these boys help you pick your dress?”

“We could model them for you,” Toto whispered, his face turning crimson.

Zephyr hopped up and down joyfully. “You could? You would? Oh, Toto!” she cried and gave the bunny boy a kiss on his reddened cheek. “And Peanut too! Such a thoughtful lad!” she gave Peanut a peck on his cheek as well.

“Now hang on a dang-blasted minute here!” Peanut objected. “I ain’t gonna—”

“Zephyr!” Marigold shouted from the top of the stairs, rushing down to meet her friend with a joyful hug. Zephyr finally let her grip on the boys’ paws loosen just enough for them to wriggle free.

The two girls hugged like long lost companions, although in truth they had spent most of yesterday together in Zephyr’s back yard, playing on the swing set and discussing the pretty celebrities on TV.

Momma looked over at Mrs. Watusi, and shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I thought Marigold would help model dresses for Zephyr this morning, but I suppose the boys will be modeling as well!” She laughed a bit uncomfortably at her own joke.

“My Zephyr seems to like the idea,” Mrs. Watusi said thoughtfully, “And you do have the best selection in town — but I must say it’s rather unusual.”

“Oh mother,” Zephyr pleaded. “Please let them get all dressed up for me! It will be unforgettable, and fun too!”

Mrs. Watusi looked from one bunny boy to the other. “I suppose a few pretty dresses won’t hurt them. If their Momma agrees.”

“My Toto’s a natural born salesman,” Momma patted her blushing boy. “I can see he’d do whatever it takes to please a customer.”

Toto just felt lost in the radiance of the merry zebra girl’s nearness. He looked down at his soft lemon colored skirt, overwhelmed with feelings, as Zephyr gave him another gentle kiss on his cheek.

Peanut tugged at his Momma’s dress. “But Momma, I don’t want no part of this girly business!” he whispered.

“Hush, not in front of the customers!” She turned to the zebra lady. “This way to the lounge please, Mrs. Watusi.”

Momma led Mrs. Watusi into the room she called the lounge. It was for the most part, a long corridor with a pretty velvet couch at the far end. Momma snapped on the music system and a soaring violin concerto trilled from the stereo speakers. Zephyr followed her mother, and the two boys in lemon and lime followed close behind her. A skipping Marigold took the rear.

“So what the heck is a flower girl dress anyway?” Peanut whispered to Toto.

“It’s like a white dress, very puffy and –”

“Like these, Missy Peanut!” Marigold called out happily, pointing to the rack of beautiful flower dresses lined up in the lounge.

“Oh my goodness!” was all that Peanut could say as he beheld the row of fluffy whiteness before him.

Marigold pulled the first dress off the rack and skipped over to Zephyr, who was sitting with her mother on the big velvet couch. She held the dress up to herself, posing before her friend. “Get a load of this one, Zephyr! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Ooh! It’s got little fabric flowers inside the hem! Zephyr clapped her little hands together, making a joyful clipclop noise. “Are you going to model for me as well?”

“Sure!” laughed Marigold, “Anything for my super zebra friend!” She quickly produced another two dresses from the rack. “How about this one?” she asked, holding a lovely satin dress up to Toto.

Toto blushed more than he probably needed to, considering he was already in a dress. Zephyr and her mother tilted their heads and considered the satin dress. “I think ... I’d like to see something more ... fussy?” Zephyr declared.

“Fussy?” Peanut retorted. “They’re all fussy!”

“Peanut, go into the dressing room now,” Momma said in her no-nonsense voice.

“Yes, Momma.”

“And take this,” she handed him a particularly fussy dress from the rack, with embroidered smocking and a satin sash.

Peanut hesitated but took the dress in his paw. “Yes, Momma.”

Momma selected another dress of floaty chiffon and held it up in front of Toto. “Do you like this one, Zephyr?”

“Oh yes,” brayed the girl, “I’d dearly love to see him in it!”

Toto looked down in embarrassment at the full-skirted chiffon dress. It looked something like a ballerina would wear, with a glittering beaded bodice, puffy chiffon sleeves and a rhinestone decorated neckline. With a heavy heart, he took the dress from his Momma’s paw.
“We’ll be back in a flash,” Momma promised her customers, “Enjoy the music, please.” She smiled and grabbed Marigold by one wrist and grabbed Toto by the other, and marched them off to the dressing rooms.

“It ain’t fair!” Peanut was wailing.

“My little fireball ... life ain’t fair.” Momma said as she slid his lime colored dress off. “Marigold, go fetch some underthings for your brothers. They can’t wear their regular briefs for this job!”

“Yes, Momma,” Marigold did her best to look solemn but she wasn’t successful.

“And nothing too fancy! The fancy underthings are for paying customers!”

“Yes, Momma.” Marigold skipped happily out of the dressing room and gathered up two pair of the fanciest lace panties in the entire shop. On top of them, she stacked two adorable lace camisoles and two packages of white tights, remembering that Peanut would need a larger size since he enjoyed a bit too much ice cream.

Then she remembered the Easter bonnet display Momma had set up last week, and picked out some dainty white bonnets and a few pair of white cotton gloves.

She skipped back to the dressing room to hear Momma talking sharply to the boys. They were both stripped down to their white briefs, the fancy white dresses hanging ominously behind them. “I can see the sun’s coming out! I was about to let you two have your trousers, and you’d be playing at the park by now! What happened, my dear Toto? What on earth made you announce that you and your brother wanted to model dresses for Zephyr?”

“It’s not my fault,” Toto mumbled. “It was Marigold! She said we had to model for Zephyr! She stole our trousers and wouldn’t give them back!”

“What on earth are you talking about? Your trousers are right here, hanging on the same hook since I took them off you!” Toto and Peanut stared up at their trousers in amazement. Momma looked over at her youngest. “Marigold, were you fibbing to your brothers?”

“Mee?” Marigold said meekly. “I was just kidding, Momma.”

“You’re the eldest, Toto! You shouldn’t be foolish enough to believe everything your little sister tells you! Or are you a baby?”

“No, Momma!”

“When you make a promise to a customer, you are bound to it, do you understand?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you promised that your brother would dress up as well, didn’t you? Do you think that was fair to him?”

Peanut shook his head in disgrace.

“Well, now you’re obliged to model dresses, and so is your brother, thanks to you!”

“I—I’m sorry!” Toto mumbled sadly.

“You’re getting a spanking tonight and no dinner! Because of what you did to poor Peanut!” Momma said sharply, grabbing the armload of things from Marigold. She looked at the extravagant lace panties in her paws. “Marigold baby, is this just a game for you?”

“They were the only ones I could find, Momma!”

“You’re getting a spanking tonight as well! For horsing around and playing tricks on your brothers!” Momma declared. “I’m sorry, Peanut dear, but you have to wear these.”

Peanut looked at the panties. They were pearl colored, with an iridescent sheen, and lavish lace trim around the waistband and leg holes. The matching camisole was equally upsetting to his male ideal of proper undergarments, with ruffled lace along the shoulder straps and a tiny satin bow at the neckline.

“Don’t forget your tights, Peanut dear,” Marigold said as poker-faced as she could.

“Are those the ones with the little hearts?” Momma said in surprise.

“It’s for a wedding, Momma. They ought to be special.”

“Little hearts?” Peanut said, his long ears flicking in irritation. “That’s for g—”

“We know they’re for girls, Peanut, just go put them on!” Momma said impatiently. “Our customers won’t wait forever.”

Peanut and Toto forlornly made their way into individual booths, their arms filled with unfamiliar lingerie.

“Can I help them, Momma?” Marigold asked as innocently as she could.

“I think you’ve helped them enough, baby. Go to the lounge and show off that pretty dress to your friend.”

“Yes, Momma, right away,” Marigold turned to the large mirror and began fussing with her dress.

From behind the curtain, Peanut cried out, “These are really much too soft!”

“Oh Peanut, girls like their panties to be soft!” Momma explained.

“The top part is soft too!” complained Toto. “This is much too frilly and girly!”

“I don’t know how tights work!” wailed Peanut.

“Just point your toes and – oh Marigold, help Peanut! I’ll help Toto!”

Momma rushed into the booth with Toto. Marigold rummaged for a minute in Momma’s purse and then went into Peanut’s booth. Peanut stood there in the pearlescent panties and camisole, a befuddled expression on his face. She could see his fluffy tail quivering in the mirror behind him. The camisole only covered the top half of his little belly, so Marigold gave the hem a tug to pull it fully down to the waistband of his panties.
Then she lifted up the perfume she got from Mama’s purse and gave Peanut a good squirt. The scent of violets filled the room.

“Hey! Don’t spray all that flowery stuff on me!”

“You’re a flower girl now!” Marigold laughed. “You’re supposed to smell like one! Lift your arms up high in the air!” she told him, spraying his underarms with the pretty scent as he did so.

“Now, pucker like this!” She puckered her lips in a little ring, then covered Peanut’s mouth with lipstick when he did the same.
Peanut ran his tongue over his colored lips in surprise. “What was that for?”

“To make you a pretty young lady! Now, gloves!” she displayed a pair of snow white cotton gloves, and Peanut gingerly held out his paws.
“I don’t need these!” he griped, as Marigold swiftly wriggled the gloves into place and did up the little pearl button at each wrist.
“Yes you do! You’re supposed to look girly, and you’re a boy! You need all the help you can get!” she quickly pulled open the package of tights. “Come on, sit down, chop chop!”

Peanut plopped down on the little changing room bench, feeling quite overcome by the busy actions of his little sister. “Point your toes, sweetie! That’s right!” she instructed, then gathered up the legs of the tights and drew them up his legs. “Now stand up to pull it all the way up to your tummy! Very, very good!”

Peanut looked down in dismay to see the pattern of white hearts covering his tawny legs. It was as if he had been swept away on a sea of feminine feelings as the scent of the perfume, the feel of the lipstick and the touch of the soft girlish underthings all combined together.

Girls were really a mystery to young Peanut. They were all over the place and you had to deal with them one way or another, but he certainly never imagined that any of their fluffy, lacy stuff would float their way into his boyish world of racing, chasing, throwing and knocking things over. Now it seemed like his secure, reliable world had suddenly vanished as he was plunged into a new universe of satin and lace, charm and manners. His little sister’s barrage of orders had worn him down to the point where he barely voiced a complaint as he automatically complied. It was embarrassing to be fussed over so much by Marigold, but deep down, a little part of him enjoyed all the attention and careful grooming. Peanut looked about anxiously. At least they were behind a curtain, hidden away from curious onlookers. No one could see his little sister treating him like this.

“Aren’t the tights pretty? Pretty pretty Peanut, that’s you!”

For Marigold, the experience of dressing her brother was like a dream come true. She had always dearly wished for a little sister she could share special girlish secrets and experiences with, to fuss over and fix her hair just so. Even though Peanut was bigger and taller than her, and certainly a boy, she began to imagine he was just a little sister who needed her guidance and direction.

She gently touched the tip of his nose. “You are just a little ball of fluff,” she told him.

“Hmph! That’s… Hmph!” Peanut said uncertainly. “Go tell Zephyr I’m not doing this!”

Marigold smiled. “No.”

Peanut trembled, and tried to undo the button on his glove. “Oh please!” he pleaded.

“No. Leave your pretty gloves alone. You’re gonna model flower girl dresses, and that’s that!”

Peanut looked helpless and desperate. He calmed down a bit as his sister patted him on the shoulders.

“There, there. You’ll be fine. If a little girl can do this, so can you!” She gently turned him until he was facing the mirror. “See how pretty? You’ll be fine, missy!”

Somehow, Peanut felt her soft words were calming him down and taking away the edge of panic he was feeling. He still didn’t like all the lace trim on his shoulder straps, and the panties were much too soft, but it wasn’t the absolute worst thing in the world. His sister smiled at him and gently stroked his ears.

“Where’s your petticoat?” Marigold asked. There was a loud rustling as his sister found what she was looking for. “Okay, lift up your arms! That’s a girl!”

The curtain parted just as Marigold tugged the boy’s lacy petticoat down into place. Mama entered the booth and helped her daughter fluff out poor Peanut’s underskirt. Marigold glanced over to see Toto in his lovely ballerina-style flower girl dress, overwhelmed by masses of chiffon fluff. He watched unhappily as his sister and Momma carefully pulled Peanut’s dress over his head. It was a lightweight brushed cotton with an ivory-colored smocking pattern across the chest. The waist had a shiny satin sash which gathered at the side in a large thick bow decorated with tiny fabric flowers. The skirt was shiny taffeta, which rustled and zipped at the slightest movement.

As Momma smoothed out the skirt, Marigold popped one of the Easter bonnets onto Peanut’s surprised head. “Good idea, baby,” Momma said happily, and began to tie the sash of the bonnet around Peanut’s chin. “Wait! Why are you wearing lipstick?”

Peanut blinked. “I don’t know. To look girly?”

“He’s a fashion model, Momma. He has to look good.”

Momma’s nose wiggled as she sniffed. “And perfume? Did you play with Momma’s perfume, Peanut?”

Peanut looked to Marigold, expecting her to explain.

“Oh, it’s okay if you wanted to play a little bit, my darling Peanut,” Momma gave her nervous little child a hug. “You are a elegant little girl now. Did Marigold tease you again?” she asked warningly.

“Um. Not really ... she just said what to put on.” Peanut blushed and looked down at the full round skirt of his bright white dress.

Marigold pulled a bonnet onto her head. “We all need bonnets before we do our modeling!”

“No we don’t!” objected Toto. A moment later, Momma was placing a broad-brimmed white sunhat on his head.

“Sorry, honey. But it really does improve the look of the outfit,” she said. “And I might sell a hat as well! Hold still, angel.”

“Hold still, angel bunny butt!” whispered Marigold.

“Marigold, I expect you to be on your best behavior! Take your brother’s hands and walk nicely out to the lounge! And no more teasing!”

“Yes, Momma,” Marigold genuinely wanted to please her Momma but the temptation to take advantage of her brothers’ predicament was enormous.

Toto wore most of the dresses that long, long morning. Marigold lost count, but she knew he wore more than fifteen flower girl dresses. Momma let Peanut go after his eighth modeling appearance, and he was soon back in his trousers and running around in the park, his relief undercut slightly by the scent of violet perfume wafting about him. Marigold did her share of the modeling task as well, but Zephyr kept asking if she could see that dress on Toto, leading to many changing room visits and sighs and blushes for the lovestruck bunny boy.

Finally, Zephyr discovered her dream dress. She had to see Toto model it, of course, and then model it again after he had worn a few other styles, but she finally rose from the velvet couch to try it on herself. Mrs. Watusi and Momma both agreed it was a perfect dress for the wedding, the skirt had just the exact fullness and bounce, the ruffled tiers of soft silk fell one layer upon the next in just the right way. Toto was thrilled with the news that his modeling predicament was finally reaching a conclusion and hurried back to the changing room, only to find that Marigold had hidden his trousers. He hurried back to the lounge, his long heirloom gown flapping around him, ready to confront his little sister over her exasperating pranks. Instead, he found himself wrapped tightly in sturdy zebra arms as he got a big hug and kiss from Mrs. Watusi.

“What a talented young man you are!” Mrs. Watusi said, smiling indulgently as she looked down at him. “Zephyr is overjoyed with her dream dress, and you were so kind and thoughtful to spend the morning assisting her! Your Momma should be very proud of you!” He smiled up shyly as she favored him with another motherly kiss. “Now where is your wonderful brother? He has earned a kiss as well!”

“Peanut went out to play, he couldn’t resist a run in the park once the sun came out,” Momma said with a happy smile.

When Toto was finally released by Mrs. Watusi, he found himself wrapped in another strong hug, this time from Zephyr. Her dream dress floated and flounced against his own fluffy dress, as the enchanting zebra girl gave him a full kiss on the lips. “You’ve been so lovely, so graceful!” she exclaimed in an impassioned whisper (but Marigold overheard everything). “You helped me find my dream dress. I wanted to be pretty for my cousin’s wedding, and now I will be beautiful! You are my dream dress boy!”

“Oh, well, gosh!” was all Toto could think to say, as Zephyr’s hug continued. She began to gently rock him back and forth, their dresses swaying this way and that.

“You are invited to come visit me any time, my sweet bunny boy.” She looked down, seemingly shy at what she wanted to say next, then blurted out, “I only need this dress for the wedding and you can try it on any time after that. Don’t worry, it will be our little secret,” the pretty girl promised him.

“Oh Zephyr, I couldn’t—”

She gently placed a finger on his lips. “Don’t agree right away, think it over!” she whispered.

The crimson-cheeked boy wished dearly there was some way to impress Zephyr with his natural boyishness. In any case, he was glad to see his starry-eyed attachment to Zephyr was not one-sided.

Mrs. Watusi skillfully separated the two lovebirds and made her daughter pose again in front of the mirror.

“Let’s see, are you buying the gloves and hat too?” Momma asked, jotting everything down on her notepad. “And the tights? They are so lovely, with the little hearts, I have a fresh package right here. – What about the petticoat? I have one that is exactly the correct length for that dress.”

“Goodness, I never even thought about the petticoat!”

Toto froze as he felt Marigold take a strong hold on the hem of his dress and lift it high in the air. “Here is what the petticoat looks like!” she announced. The bunny boy trembled as he felt Zephyr and Mrs. Watusi also take hold of his dress to get a better view of his underskirt.

“Ooh, so pretty and lacy!” squealed Zephyr. “Mother, please?”

“Yes, it does add such a nice finishing touch,” agreed Mrs. Watusi.

Momma rushed to Toto’s side and helped him arrange his dress properly once everyone had released it. “Don’t tease, Marigold!” she whispered in her warning voice.

“What about panties? Toto’s got on some nice panties too!” Marigold announced.

Toto tried to hold his skirt in place, but Marigold got a firm grip with both paws and lifted his petticoat and dress as high as she could.

Unlike her vivid recollections of her brothers’ very feminine predicament, Marigold only dimly remembered her spanking. She remembered shedding a few tears in silence, and feeling proud that she was much quieter than the dreadful racket that came from Toto’s bedroom when it was time for his spanking.

All things considered, she thought to herself, it was probably worth it.

“You’re up next, hon,” the contest manager tapped Marigold on the shoulder. The bunny girl looked up from her stack of completed pageant applications. Oh yes, the song contest! “Good luck ... Toto,” the manager said, peering over her shoulder at the application she was finishing.

“Oh, I’m not Toto -- this is for my brother,” Marigold explained, but the manager had already hurried away to see after another detail.

She sat up straight in her tall chair, and stretched. She felt much better. The routine task of filling out applications, coupled with her recollections of a favorite childhood memory, left her feeling refreshed and jolly.

The bunny girl rose to her feet and made her way over to the stage entrance, just in time to hear her name announced to the audience. She stepped onstage to the cheers of her family in the front row. She waved to them, and then to the row of stone-faced judges. A gaunt vulture woman wearing a judge’s badge jotted something in her notebook. The applause from the rest of the audience was polite, but brief. It had been a long evening, and the piggy tenor had not yet been topped.

Marigold sang a medley of tunes she had rehearsed dozens of times before. It included her favorite, “I Enjoy Being a Girl” followed by “Femininity” from the film Summer Magic, then “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story, and the Dinah Shore classic “Buttons and Bows.” Thoughts about her brothers’ first experience in dresses swirled about her head, and mixed with plans for future adventures on the pageant circuit. She felt her mood lift and her self-consciousness vanish.

About midway through her medley, Marigold realized the audience had become a lot more friendly than at the other song contests she had performed at. Even the gaunt vulture woman was nodding to the song and tapping her talon on the floor. When Marigold broke out in the final part of the medley, “Get Happy” from Summer Stock, the audience rose to their feet and began to clap in time with the music. Their enthusiasm led Marigold’s performance to new heights. Again she sang her heart out, but this time her heart was being welcomed and embraced by everyone in the little theatre. She ended with a graceful little curtsey, hearing the roar of applause in her ears.

“And the winner is,” a judge read out from the podium a few minutes later, “Piggie Poltowsky singing Oklahoma! Congratulations, Piggie! Good night, everyone!”

It was a long drive home in the family car. The spring in the front seat was broken, so Momma sat in the back with Marigold on her lap. Her brothers sat next to her, and Poppa drove.

After a few miles of silence, Peanut suddenly exclaimed, “Marigold should have won! She was really good this time!”

“Well, sometimes things like that happen, Peanut,” Poppa said philosophically. “Sometimes, a piggy just barges in front of you, and you can’t do a thing about it.”

“Humph!” snorted Toto. “If I was in that contest, I’d punch that piggy in the nose!”

“Oh yeah?” Peanut replied, not wanting to be outdone, “If I was in that contest, I’d put a firecracker in that piggy’s trousers and blast him to the moon!”

“Now, now, boys, violence is never the answer,” Poppa admonished them.

“Did you want to be in the contest?” Marigold asked slyly.

“Um, I dunno,” Peanut pondered. “It looks like a lot of work.”

Toto frowned. “It’s not that much work!”

“I guess if Marigold can do it, it’s not too hard,” Peanut nodded.

“Okay, good, because I ...”

“Because you what?” Toto asked suspiciously. “What did you do this time, Marigold?”

“I just thought you might have fun in a few of the contests that were coming up, that’s all. So I ...”

“So you did what?” Momma asked cautiously.

“I just signed up Toto and Peanut for a bunch of things while I was waiting backstage.”

“What kind of things, Marigold?” Peanut asked, alarmed.

“I can’t remember them all,” giggled his sister. “Little Miss Watermelon, that was one.”

“That’s a beauty pageant!” Momma exclaimed.

“Well, they were all beauty pageants, Momma! There was the Carroltown Junior Miss Competition and the Badgerville Petite Southern Belle Gala, and, oh yeah, the Foghorn Falls Tippytoes Pageant!”

“The Foghorn Falls Tippytoes Pageant?” Toto exclaimed. “That’s for girls!”

“All beauty pageants are for girls, Einstein,” Peanut said dryly.

“Wait a minute! I ain’t gonna be no Little Miss Watermelon!” Toto exclaimed.

“Don’t talk negative! You can do anything!” Poppa admonished. To be fair, Poppa was driving and not paying close attention to the conversation.

“Poppa’s right,” giggled Marigold. “And it’s not that much work! Momma has all the dresses and stuff you need right in her shop, and I’ll help you practice! I bet Zephyr would help too, her parents were big stars in the circus!”

“Oh baby, there you go again,” laughed Momma and bounced Marigold on her lap. But Momma had a little smile on her face, a smile that told Marigold her hopes weren’t totally out of the question.

“I think it would be a good experience for them, Momma! They’re getting much too boisterous! They broke Mrs. Crow’s window last month, and they’re always getting in fights.”

“Hey, I apologized for that window! It happens when you play baseball!” Toto objected.

“Boys will be boys,” Momma told her daughter.

“Fights?” Poppa said, his face suddenly serious. “Who is getting in fights?”

“Nobody, Poppa!” Peanut replied.

“Well, if ‘nobody’ gets in another fight, he will have a big sore bottom!”

Peanut fell silent. He thought he had kept his street boxing secret enough, but it was hard not to brag about his exploits, and news carried quickly from kid to kid. It was no surprise that a little busybody like his sister would get wind of it.

Marigold looked from one brother to the other. “Come on. It’s only four little pageants, and the Petite Southern Belle Gala is just a parade where you sit on a float and wave your paw.”

“Hmph!” Peanut said in disgust. “Four little pageants my foot! I’m not getting involved in all that frilly fluffy stuff!”

“Hmm, maybe few pageants would be all right,” Momma said thoughtfully. “It would keep you boys out of trouble, and maybe you’d learn a thing or two.”

“Yeah, maybe you’d learn a thing or two,” Marigold echoed.

“You shut up!” Toto growled. “You’re always trying to get us into dresses!”

“Don’t be rude to your sister!” Momma warned. “She’s only seven!”

“I only want what’s best for you,” Marigold smiled cheekily at her brothers and nuzzled in her Momma’s lap.

And that, dear reader, is how Marigold retired from song contests and got her brothers involved in beauty pageants.

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